AFTER THE DIVORCE, I BECAME A BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER 2: THE MAN BEHIND THE NAME

I didn't get into the car immediately.

For nearly a full minute, I stood in the rain staring at Choi Dong-wook, waiting for him to admit this was some elaborate mistake arranged by the Han family to complete my execution.

"My father is dead," I said. "He died twelve years ago."

"The man who raised you is dead, yes," Dong-wook replied smoothly.

"I don't have a father named Kang Min-jae. My father was Kang Sang-ho."

Dong-wook offered a single, respectful nod. "A remarkably noble man who raised you with unwavering devotion."

The precision of his tone sent a chill down my spine. He knew about the drafty house in Incheon, the medical debt, the late-night study sessions. He had cataloged my past before pulling up to this curb.

"Then you're talking about two different men," I spat.

"No, Young Master," Dong-wook said. "I am talking about the man who raised you... and the man who gave you life."

I looked down at the rain pooling around my shoes. "I don't want his money."

"That is fortunate," Dong-wook said without blinking. "If you wanted the money, I would be worried. Get in, Tae-jun. You're bleeding time."

I hesitated, then ducked into the warm, leather-scented cabin. The heavy door shut, severing the storm's roar. Dong-wook handed me a black towel and a matte-black leather binder embossed with a single gold word: KANGSEONG.

I flipped it open to a maze of corporate registries, offshore trusts, and bank records. Near the middle lay an official death certificate.

Kang Min-jae. Cause of Death: Acute Myocardial Infarction.

Below it was an index of the empire's holdings: forty-seven major subsidiaries across commercial banking, logistics, shipping, defense tech, and real estate. Beneath the equity mandate, a hundred percent of the primary voting shares were registered to my name.

"This can't be real."

"It is as real as the forty-seven dollars in your back pocket," Dong-wook said flatly.

"If he had this kind of power, why didn't he ever come for me?" The anger flared hot. "I worked three jobs to pay off my father's medical debt! Where was Kang Min-jae when I was eating cold rice in a basement?"

"He was watching," Dong-wook replied softly.

The answer hit like a physical blow. Dong-wook pulled a smaller parchment folder from his jacket and laid three thick cream envelopes on my lap. Each was addressed in sharp, sweeping calligraphy: To my son, Tae-jun.

"When were these written?"

"The first eleven months before his passing," Dong-wook said. "The second seven months ago. The third... three weeks before he died."

I held the third envelope, unable to break the seal. "Why wait eleven months after his death to bring me this?"

"Because those were your father's explicit instructions," Dong-wook said, his voice turning ice-cold. "Kang Min-jae knew he was going to die. He knew someone inside his inner circle was calculating his execution."

The cabin felt razor-thin. Outside, the sedan glided past the glowing skyscrapers of the financial district.

"There is another reality you must understand," Dong-wook continued. "Two years before his death, Kang Min-jae quietly acquired a forty-three percent controlling stake in Daehan Development."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"Forty-three percent. Han Seong-ho believes he owns that board, but your father owned the dirt beneath his feet."

The weight of the number settled in my chest. Daehan Development. The company where Han Mi-sook ruled, where Han Do-jin strutted like a prince, where I had just been handed divorce papers. My biological father held the leash to the entire enterprise.

"Who else knows I exist?" I asked.

"No one within Kangseong's active board," Dong-wook said. "To the Hans and the Ahns, you were simply a powerless architect with an obscure background."

"How did I survive?" I asked. "If his enemies were that dangerous, how did they never trace his bloodline?"

"Because for thirty years, Kang Min-jae deliberately allowed you to be nobody," Dong-wook said. "He scrubbed your records and let you live in poverty. He knew that the moment his enemies discovered you, you would be hunted down before you learned to stand. Your obscurity was your armor."

Later that night, inside the dark study of a private residence in Seongbuk-dong, I broke the seal on my father's final letter.

Tae-jun, the letter began in bold brushstrokes. If you are reading this, Choi Dong-wook has handed you the keys, and I have failed to protect my own life from the shadows inside my house. I will not ask for your forgiveness. Words written by a dead man are cheap comfort. I kept you distant because the world I built is inhabited by monsters, and I required you to grow up with a soul intact before I handed you a sword.

My chest constricted as my eyes moved down the page.

You will feel an overwhelming urge to use this power to strike down those who humiliated you today. Do not pursue revenge.

A bitter smirk touched my lips in the dim lamplight. My father clearly hadn't known the dark ash settling in my veins. Then I read the next line:

Not yet.

My smirk vanished.

First, learn the true depth of the empire I built. Learn every corridor, every asset, every weakness. Learn the faces of the board members who smiled at my table while measuring my casket. And above all, find out who among them sold my life. When you know who holds the knife... then you may burn the house down.

I stared at the signature until the ink burned into my mind. I looked up at Dong-wook, who stood by the tall glass windows overlooking the city.

"What really happened to him eleven months ago?" I asked. "The autopsy says cardiac arrest."

Dong-wook turned slowly, his eyes devoid of warmth. "Officially, his heart stopped in his sleep. Unofficially... someone replaced his medication with a synthetic toxin forty-eight hours before he signed the final trust documents."

He met my gaze directly. "Your father was murdered, Young Master. And the killers are currently sitting in the executive suites of Kangseong Holdings, waiting to see who claims his chair."