Chapter 2 2

Song Min-Ah

The look of horror on Jiho's face as the realization dawned would have been satisfying if I weren't so devastated. The apartment, worth millions, had been purchased through one of my father's companies as an "investment property" that Jiho managed. He had lived there rent-free, believing it was a gesture of trust from his future father-in-law.

The door closed behind me with a decisive click, cutting off Jiho's panicked protests. In the privacy of the elevator, I finally allowed myself to crumple, silent sobs wracking my body as five years of love and plans disintegrated.

Outside, the rain had intensified, matching my mood as I stood under the building's awning, suddenly directionless. I couldn't go to my family's Seoul mansion, it was closed while my father and brother were still in Beverly Hills finalizing business deals. The housekeeper wouldn't arrive to prepare it until next week, when I was officially expected to return to start my internship.

Hotel? No, the paparazzi would spot me immediately. The daughter of Song Tae-woo, checking into a hotel alone, soaking wet and clearly distressed? The gossip columns would have a field day.

There was only one person in Seoul I could turn to. One person who had always been there for me, even when my own boyfriend hadn't.

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed.

________________________________________

"Min-ah?" Kang Ji-hoon's deep voice answered after just two rings.

A small, broken sob escaped my lips before I could stop it.

"Min-ah? What's wrong? Are you okay?" His tone immediately sharpened with concern.

"Ji-hoon oppa," I whispered, my voice thick with tears. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I didn't know who else to call."

"You're never a bother," he replied instantly. "Where are you? Aren't you supposed to be in Beverly Hills until next week?"

"I came early to surprise Jiho," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Turns out the surprise was on me. I found him in bed with Choi Sera."

I heard his sharp intake of breath, followed by what sounded like a curse.

"Where are you right now?" he asked, and I could hear keys jingling in the background.

"Outside Jiho's building. I can't go to our house, it's closed up, and I don't want to be alone in a hotel. The press...."

"Give me fifteen minutes," Ji-hoon interrupted. "I'm coming to get you."

Relief flooded through me. "Thank you, oppa."

The line went dead, and I huddled deeper under the awning, watching rain transform Seoul into a blur of neon reflections. Fifteen minutes. I could hold myself together for fifteen minutes.

I tried not to think about Jiho and Sera, still upstairs in what I'd thought was our home. Tried not to imagine them laughing at my shocked expression, at my naivety. Tried not to remember the dozens of video calls over the past eight months when Jiho had professed his love, his loneliness without me, all while another woman warmed his bed.

Headlights cut through the rain, and a sleek Aston Martin pulled up at the curb. The door flung open, and Kang Ji-hoon emerged, tall, commanding, his usual impeccable appearance somehow intact despite the storm.

"Min-ah!"

I looked up at my brother's best friend, the man who'd always treated me like an equal despite the seven-year age gap between us. The man whose tech empire rivaled my father's cosmetics conglomerate. The man who was, if rumors were to be believed, engaged to Park Yoo-na, the pharmaceutical heiress.

"Ji-hoon oppa," I whispered, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks.

Without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms, uncaring that my wet clothes immediately soaked through his expensive suit. I clung to him, my body shaking with silent sobs, breathing in his familiar scent, sandalwood and something uniquely him.

"Shhh, I've got you," he murmured into my hair. "I've got you."

I felt his body tense suddenly. Looking up, I spotted Jiho at the building's entrance, hastily dressed and watching us with a panicked expression.

Ji-hoon gently transferred me to his security guard. "Get her into the car," he ordered. "I'll be right there."

Before I could protest, Ji-hoon was striding toward Jiho with measured steps. I watched from beside the car as Jiho backed up nervously.

"Kang Ji-hoon-ssi," I heard him begin. "This isn't what....."

Ji-hoon's fist connected with Jiho's jaw before he could finish the sentence. My ex-fiancé stumbled backward, clutching his face in shock.

I couldn't hear what Ji-hoon said next, but the cold fury in his expression made Ji-ho pale visibly. When Ji-hoon turned away, straightening his suit jacket, I was still staring, caught between surprise and something more elemental, something that made my heart race despite my devastation.

"Was that necessary?" I asked as he approached, though there was no rebuke in my tone.

"Yes," Ji-hoon replied simply, opening the passenger door for me. "It was."

The drive to Ji-hoon's penthouse passed in silence. I stared out at the rainy Seoul streets, trying to process the wreckage of my life. Five years with Jiho, gone. My dreams of building a life with him while working my way up from intern to executive at Lumière Cosmetics Seoul, shattered. The engagement ring I'd shown off proudly to my friends and family, hurled back at the cheating bastard who'd given it to me.

I glanced at Ji-hoon, his strong profile illuminated by passing streetlights. At thirty, he was one of Seoul's most eligible bachelors, brilliant, devastatingly handsome, and notoriously private. He'd always been kind to me, treating me as more than just his best friend's little sister. In the years I'd been away, our relationship had evolved from childhood acquaintances to something like friendship, our occasional text exchanges about business theories and market trends a welcome respite from Jiho's increasingly superficial communications.