POV: Tae-junThe engine of the dark sedan roared through the pre-dawn fog before I had even finished reading the second security alert.Ji-hoon ran logistics from the back seat, his mechanical pencil moving across physical maps while his fingers flew across an encrypted tablet. Drawing on his deep knowledge of supply routes, he hijacked Kangseong's internal freight signaling network, remotely tripping emergency maintenance protocols to lock down every private airfield, cargo dock, and container port within a ninety-minute radius of the capital.Beside him, Seo-rin sat in stiff, terrifying silence, her laptop screen illuminating her pale face in cold blue light. Using the high-level compliance overrides she had quietly maintained since the Daehan audit, she tracked Chang-min’s personal cell signal as it flickered across secondary cell towers heading southeast.Choi Dong-wook rode in the front passenger seat, staring out into the rain-slicked darkness. He said nothing. But as the car sw

POV: Seo-yeonThe morning after Ahn Tae-hyun caught me clutching the Project Anchor folder behind my mother's locked mahogany desk, I woke expecting a execution. I expected my mother to be waiting in the dining room with a cold smile and a forced institutional exile, summoned by a midnight phone call from the man I had unwisely trusted.Instead, Tae-hyun called my private line at seven in the morning. His voice was flat, hollowed out, and stripped of its usual razor-sharp, arrogant polish. He asked me to meet him for an early breakfast in a secluded private room at the Grand Hyatt, far from the prying eyes of our families' driver pools.When I stepped into the quiet suite, I didn't see the ruthless, calculating heir who had helped engineer my husband's public destruction.Tae-hyun sat by the floor-to-ceiling glass, an untouched cup of black coffee cooling in front of him. His hands were trembling—a subtle, terrifying detail he couldn't hide even as he pressed his palms flat against th

POV: Seo-rinTae-jun told me the moment we stepped into the heavy silence of the penthouse study.I couldn't stop myself from watching his face as the confession spilled from his lips. It wasn't the bittersweet ache of a man discovering he had a half-sister in the world. It was the far worse, hollowed-out look of a child who had just realized his father had chosen to raise one life in the warm light while leaving the other to burn in the dark. Kang Min-jae hadn't just kept a secret; he had curated a sanctuary for Soo-ah while using Tae-jun as a living shield against the city's hungry wolves.My chest crushed under a sudden, overwhelming wave of empathy. I reached out and took his hand, my fingers weaving through his cold, trembling knuckles, desperately trying to anchor him against the terrifying weight of his father's betrayal.Then I pulled my hand away.The sudden withdrawal made him flinch as if I had struck him with an open palm. But I couldn't afford tenderness—not when my own c

POV: Seo-rinI learned about the engagement rumor the exact same way the rest of the city did: from a shrill tabloid push notification vibrating against my kitchen counter at six in the morning.KANGSEONG HEIR TO WED HA DAUGHTER: STRATEGIC ALLIANCE FINALIZED.I stood alone in the cold morning light, staring at the bright screen until the words burned into my retinas. The blurred photograph showed Tae-jun leaning toward Ha Eun-ji across a candlelit table, his posture intimate, his smile polished and charming.A sudden, terrifying wave of pure fury surged through my veins, surprising me with its sheer, visceral violence.The fake engagement story itself wasn't even the part that cut deep enough to draw blood. What stung—what left an agonizing, hollow ache in the center of my chest—was the sickening knowledge that he had told me about the meeting beforehand. I had stood in his study, held my pain like a weapon, and given him my cold, flat permission. Yet standing here now, looking at his

POV: Seo-rinThe Incheon deep-water terminal at two o’clock in the morning smelled of thick maritime diesel, rotting bait, and the cheap, vinegary steam of unfinished cup noodles left on a night-shift desk.I stood before the heavy steel door of Terminal Building Four, my breath pluming into pale, frozen clouds in the damp night air. My fingers were ice as I pulled the laminated plastic card from my coat pocket and slid it into the electronic sensor.The green light blinked once. The heavy electromagnetic lock clicked open with a soft, clean snap.The keycard worked flawlessly. And that simple, instant compliance unsettled me far more than a blaring security alarm or a jammed latch would have. A stolen badge should have been rejected by the secondary firewalls; a fabricated clearance code should have triggered an administrative ping. Instead, the terminal welcomed me like an old, favored tenant.I slipped inside, pulling the heavy door shut behind me, plunging myself into the dim, amb