Chapter 4 4

Kang Ji-Hoon

The morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. I had barely slept, my mind replaying the events of the previous night on an endless loop: Min-ah's broken voice on the phone, the sight of her standing in the rain, devastated and lost, the satisfying crunch of my fist connecting with Lee Jiho's jaw.

I nursed my bruised knuckles with a glass of whiskey, watching Seoul wake up from my kitchen island. The city spread out below me like a living map, buildings catching the morning light, but all I could think about was the woman sleeping in my guest room.

The sound of a door opening pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Min-ah emerge, still swimming in my clothes, her hair tousled from sleep, eyes puffy from crying. Despite everything, my breath caught in my throat.

She was beautiful. Not in the polished, manufactured way of the women who typically graced my arm at corporate events, but in a raw, undeniable way that made my chest tighten. Her natural beauty shone through even now, with no makeup, wearing oversized clothes, and clearly heartbroken.

Get it together, Kang Ji-hoon. She's Min-ho's little sister. Your best friend's baby sister.

But she wasn't a baby anymore, was she? At twenty-two, Song Min-ah was a woman with a business degree, dimples that could stop hearts, and hazel eyes that saw right through people's pretenses. Including mine.

"Morning," she said softly, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

I cleared my throat, banishing inappropriate thoughts. "Did you sleep at all?"

Min-ah shrugged, moving to the coffee machine. "A little. You?"

"Enough," I lied, watching as she expertly operated my expensive Italian espresso maker. She'd always been observant, figuring out complex things with minimal instruction.

"You punched him," she said suddenly, her back still to me as she waited for the coffee to brew.

I flexed my hand, the skin across my knuckles tight and discolored. "I did."

"Why?" She turned, those hazel eyes searching my face.

"Because he hurt you," I said simply, the truth slipping out before I could censor it.

The espresso machine hissed, breaking the moment of tension between us. Min-ah turned back to it, her shoulders tight. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know."

She retrieved two cups, filling them with the fragrant dark liquid. As she handed one to me, our fingers brushed, and I felt the contact like an electric shock.

"Thank you," she said, and I knew she wasn't talking about the punch. "For being there last night. For not asking questions. For... everything."

I took a sip of coffee to hide my expression. "Always."

I hadn't planned to hit Jiho. When I saw him standing there in the rain, hastily dressed, watching Min-ah sob in my arms, something primitive took over. All I could see was her tear-streaked face, the devastation in her eyes when she'd called me. All I could think about was this pathetic excuse for a man, who had everything I'd ever wanted, throwing it away like it meant nothing.

"Kang Ji-hoon-ssi," he'd begun, backing away nervously. "This isn't what....."

My fist connected with his jaw before he could finish, sending him stumbling backward. The pain shooting through my knuckles was nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing him sprawled on the wet pavement, clutching his face.

I stepped closer, my voice low enough that only he could hear. "If you come near her again, if you so much as breathe in her direction, I will dismantle your career piece by piece until there's nothing left. Do you understand me?"

The fear in his eyes told me he did. He knew who I was, what I was capable of. The Kang name carried weight in Seoul, and I'd never been tempted to abuse that power until that moment.

"She deserves better than you," I added, straightening my suit jacket. "She always did."

When I returned to Min-ah, her eyes were wide with surprise, a flash of something else...respect? admiration?... glimmering beneath the tears.

"Was that necessary?" she asked, no real rebuke in her tone.

"Yes," I replied simply. "It was."

"I should call my father," Min-ah said now, cradling her coffee cup. "Let him know what happened."

I nodded, watching her carefully. "Do you want me to be there when you do?"

She shook her head. "No, this is something I need to do alone." She paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "I left my suitcase at the penthouse. All my clothes, my laptop..."

"Tell me when you want to get them," I said immediately. "I'll take you."

"I should go today. Get it over with."

"After breakfast," I insisted. "And after we get you something to wear."

Min-ah glanced down at my oversized clothes and managed a genuine, if small, smile. "I don't think the heir to Lumière Cosmetics should show up for her first day wearing borrowed sweatpants."

"Definitely not," I agreed, relieved to see that spark of humor. "How about this, I'll take you shopping, then to get your things, then to Lumière. You still start today?"

She nodded, her expression growing determined. "I'm not letting Jiho ruin my career plans, too."

That was the Min-ah I knew, resilient, unstoppable. Even as a teenager, she'd had a core of steel beneath the sunny personality and dimpled smile. It was one of the many things I'd always admired about her. One of the many things I'd tried not to notice over the years.

"Then we have a plan," I said, moving to the refrigerator. "But first, breakfast."

The exclusive boutiques of Cheongdam-dong opened early for clients like me. By nine, Min-ah had selected a modest but elegant outfit for her first day at Lumière: a cream silk blouse, tailored navy trousers, and a matching blazer that emphasized her petite frame while projecting competence and confidence.

"What do you think?" she asked, emerging from the dressing room.

I swallowed hard. The outfit transformed her from the heartbroken girl in my sweatpants to the poised businesswoman she was becoming. "Perfect," I managed. "You look ready to conquer Lumière."

Min-ah smiled, a real smile that reached her eyes and revealed those devastating dimples. "I feel ready. Or at least, I'm getting there."

Watching her chat with the sales assistant, selecting a pair of simple heels to complete the look, I was struck by the change in her demeanor. The vulnerability of last night was still there, beneath the surface, but she was gathering her strength, putting herself back together piece by piece.

My phone vibrated with an incoming call. Park Yoo-na. I silenced it without answering, but the reminder of my own complicated situation dampened my mood. Min-ah noticed immediately when she returned to my side.

"Everything okay?" she asked, those perceptive eyes missing nothing.

"Fine," I lied smoothly. "Just business. Are you ready to get your things from Jiho's place?"

Her expression tightened, but she nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The drive to Jiho's, Min-ah's penthouse was silent, tension radiating from her slight frame. When we pulled into the private garage, I noticed her hands trembling slightly.

"I can come up with you," I offered, parking the Aston Martin.

Min-ah took a deep breath. "No, I need to do this alone. I'll be quick."

I didn't like it, but I respected her decision. "If you're not back in twenty minutes, I'm coming up."

She managed a shaky smile. "Deal."

I watched her disappear into the elevator, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. Min-ah was strong, but she was also facing the man who'd just shattered her heart. Alone.