SEVERALTY
CHAPTER 7
Cry by Cigarettes after Sex
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL X READER (Mafia x Doctor AU! Arranged Forced Marriage; Enemies to Lovers? Slow Burn!!)
Warnings: Strong language, manipulation, shitty parents, forced marriage, guns, and some wrist and chin holding ANGST!. They get married.
AN: Missed me?
CHAPTER 1 --- PREVIOUSLY
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Seldom there comes a time in a manâs life when he has to relive his nightmare over and over again, making one realise how much more he has to give before he has nothing left to give at all. Maybe thatâs what Min-Jaein is going through. Seeing his most precious being in this world walk into the dragonâs lair, guided by the most vicious of the devilâs spawn. Â
The office smelt faintly of old leather, strong alcohol, and coldâlike the stone that never felt the sun. Everything was sharp-edged: the heavy desk carved from dark walnut, glass shelves lined with books, and worn and beloved books read and passed through generations. So many memoriesâChoi Si-won sat at the centre of it all like a man carved from the same wood as his desk. Expressionless and composed, fingers steepled as he looked across the room at the man sitting opposite him.
Your father.
And beside him, a curly-haired boyâyoung, no older than 24, his wide brown eyes bouncing between them, uncertain.Â
The air seemed to shift the moment your foot crossed the threshold. Your heart dropped as if someone had yanked it downward with a string. Cold swept over you, creeping across your skin, gathering like ice at the base of your neck.
Everything became muffled. Voices sounded distant. Like you were underwater.
The heartbeat in your ears was deafening, steady, and brutal.
Thenâ
âY/N, Doll.â
Your eyes snapped to the source, your body jolting back into sensation as if someone had ripped the cord connecting you to reality.
âY/N.â
Your eyes met hisâand everything inside you shattered.
âNo,â you whispered, your voice cracking at the edges. âNo, no, noâthis⌠this canât beââ
You stumbled a step backward, vision blurring. âYou were deadâthey told me you were dead. They showed me pictures, the ringâyou were wearing your ringââ
Panic bloomed like poison in your chest. Your throat tightened. You couldnât breathe.
âI asked to see your face. I begged,â you choked out. âBut they said it was too damaged. they told me it was youâhow could theyâhow could youââ
You turned, your eyes darting, the room spinning too fast, too loud.
And thenâ
You backed into something solid.
A chest. Broad. Familiar. Unyielding.
Your father.
Alive.
He rose slowly from his chair, every movement deliberate. Like he wasnât sure if youâd bolt.
âDollâŚâ he said softly, voice husky, like glass ground into velvet. âI had to do it. I had to keep you away from all of this.â
His hand reached for yours, hesitating just before touching. His eyesâusually cold and calculativeâwere glassy.
You didnât reach back.
You couldnât.
Rayn stood just behind him now, unmoving, his gaze locked on the man before him. Disbelief warred with something softer. Recognition, maybe. Or betrayal.
Is that really him? Rayn thought. My father? Was he ever capable of anything akin to showing emotions?Â
âYouâre not my father,â you hissed, the words slicing out of you like shards of glass. âMy father is dead. I donât want to be a part of thisâI never did. I just want to go back.â
âDoll, hear me out. Just onceââ
âWhy?â you snapped. âWhy should I? If you really wanted to keep me out of this, why bring me here? I donât care what itâs forâI never asked for any of it!â
Your voice broke. A splintering sob fought its way up your throat, but you bit it down with shaking lips. Everything around you was suffocatingâtoo much. The polished marble, the stifling scent of cigars and leather, the unreadable faces in the room. The weight of it all pressed against your chest like a concrete slab.
You didnât notice him step closer. Not until warm, calloused hands suddenly landed on your shoulders, steadying your trembling frame.
âSteady, sweetheart,â came the deep, low voice from just behind youâsmooth like velvet dragged over steel. âBreathe, will you?â
Your body jolted, your breath caught in your throat. You knew that voice. Heard it in nightmares and memories alike. The new heir. Choi Seungcheol.
But before you could even reactâ
âTake your hands off my daughter.â
The thunder in your fatherâs voice cracked through the air like a bullet. Youâd never heard it that loud. That's cold. Gone was the man with glassy eyes and a hesitant touch. In his place stood something darkerâolder. A roar of a wounded tiger.Â
The room fell still. The tension wound tight, like a string pulled too far.
Seungcheol lifted his hands in the air, a lazy smirk stretching across his lips. He stepped back, slow and deliberate, two mocking paces.
âToo soon?â he drawled, his tone dancing with amusement, but his eyes never left your fatherâs.
Your father stepped forward.
âI saidââ he growled, every word drenched in venom, ââdonât touch her.â
He didnât speak. But you felt his presence behind you shiftâlike a wall of heat inching forward. He didnât need to reply. The weight of his silence was louder than a gunshot.
You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch him in the corner of your eye.
Dressed all in black. Eyes colder than winter on the Tiber.
Watching you like he already owned you.
And for the first timeâŚ
You felt it.
The real reason youâd been brought here.
âHey Hanââ A slow, gravel-thick voice cut through the room like smoke curling from an expensive cigar. âIf your little reunion is over⌠shall we get back to business?â
Your head turned instinctively toward the sound, eyes landing on the man behind the massive mahogany desk.
He sat like a monarchâreclined but commandingâone leg crossed over the other. The light caught the silver in his slicked-back hair, age-worn but powerful, dressed immaculately in a three-piece charcoal suit. His gold cufflinks gleamed like bloodstained medals of honor. A signet ring caught your eyeâthick, old, and engraved with a Choi family crest.
Late sixties, maybe older. His skin bore the years, but his posture? Straight as a blade. And his eyesâŚ
Cold. Calculating. Cruel.
You didnât know his name. But your body recognized him.
âWh-what business?â you asked slowly, voice cracking as you looked between your father and the stranger. âWhat the hell is going on?â
The older man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he laced his fingers together.
âItâs nice to see you again, Y/N,â he said, with mock warmth. âYouâve grown into a promising young woman. Iâm not sure if you remember meâbut once upon a time, you used to run through these halls. Little footsteps. Little braids. You always asked for those vanilla almond cookies my housekeeper used to bake.â
You didnât remember. Or maybe you didnât want to.
He sighed dramatically and continued. âWell, thatâs the past, isnât it? And from what I gather⌠the past hasnât been particularly kind to you. Or to Mira.â
At that nameâyour motherâs nameâyour heart stopped.
âOh yes,â he went on, lips curling into a mockery of sympathy. âMy deepest condolences. Mira⌠she was a woman of God. One of a kind. May her soul rest in peace.â
âKeep her name out of your mouth, Choi.â
Your fatherâs voice had never sounded so sharp. So lethal.
Min Jaein had risen from his chair like a stormcloud. His hands clenched into trembling fists at his sides, and for a second, you thought he might leap across the desk.
Choi Siwon raised his eyebrows, that smirk never faltering.
âWell,â he chuckled, âlooks like some things never change. Even after all these years, Han Min Jaein is still all fire and no finesse.â
Then his eyes slid toward someone else.
Toward Rayn.
Your half-brother stiffenedâbarelyâbut it was enough. Siwon caught it like a predator sensing weakness.
âPoor Cassandra, am I right?â he said, so casually it felt like a slap.
Raynâs face twitched. His gaze dropped to the floorâfirst to his shoes, then to the rug beneath them. He didnât respond. Didnât look up.
Your eyes jumped between the three men. You didnât know all their stories. Not yet.
But one thing was already crystal clear:
The Choi menâyoung and oldâwere sadistic bastards. The kind who fed off discomfort. Who toyed with people the way children pulled wings off flies.
Choi Siwonâs expression twisted, venom replacing amusement. His eyesâwolfish and coldâcut toward Jaein with quiet cruelty.
âAnd now,â he said, voice slicing through the silence like a blade, âit looks like your fatherâs gone and put your entire future in jeopardy.â
Your father shifted slightly, unease flickering across his face as his eyes met yours. He looked at you as if he wanted to explainâbut there was no room to speak. Not here. Not anymore.
Siwon didnât wait. He continued, savoring each word like poison on his tongue.
âYour daddy dearest signed a treaty with me,â he said, slowly circling his desk, swirling the amber liquor in his crystal tumbler. âA truce that clearly stated: If one violates it, the price would be paid on equal terms. Isnât that right, Han?â
Jaein clenched his fists, but said nothing.
Siwon stopped in front of a large portrait mounted high on the wallâa gilded frame gleaming in the dim light. You followed his gaze.
The painting looked almost sacred, the kind of thing you saw in European churches or forgotten wings of palaces. In it stood Mincheolâtall, a proud, content smile, dressed in a dark tailored suit. He held a small baby wrapped in ivory christening silk, like something pulled from a royal baptism. Beside him stood his wife Veronica, a unique glimmer in her eyes, the man standing behind you with his hand resting on the shoulder of a seated woman. Her eyesâglassy, hauntingâstared straight ahead. And sitting next to her, Choi Siwon, his hand gently placed on her knees . The image screamed of power. And control.
Maybe Nurse Hanna had been right. They really are like royalty here.
âBut,â Siwon continued quietly, âyour father took something from me⌠something that nothing can replace. Not even if I took everything from him in return. Not even if I carved him open with my own hands.â
He turned from the portrait. âStill. A deal is a deal.â
He took another sip of his drink, eyes burning as they landed on Rayn for a brief moment.
âBefore you,â he said, âyour brother was to pay the price. And your father⌠well, he didnât seem all that heartbroken about it. Cold bastard, really.â
A dark chuckle escaped him.
âThen your new mother, I mean Stepmotherâsweet Cassandraâtold me something very interesting,â he said, dragging out the word like honey over a blade. âAnd when I looked at your father's face... saw his expression change thatâs when it hit me.â
He stepped forward, deliberate and slow.
âMy people,â he said, âneed stability. A symbol. A promise.â
He stopped right in front of you. âAnd you, my dear,â he whispered, âwill give me that.â
You felt your skin crawl before the meaning even registered. When it did, you froze.
âYou,â he repeated, âHan Min Jaeinâs daughter⌠will give me a grandson.â
Disgust twisted your face. You took a step back. âWhat makes you think Iâll give you anything?â
Siwon didnât flinch. His voice was silk soaked in steel.
âOh, you will,â he said. âBecause I wonât leave you any room to negotiate.â
Your eyes narrowed. âWhy me?â
He let out a long sigh and turned briefly to his son, Seungcheol, who hadnât said a word. The younger man gave a low, bitter snicker under his breath.
âFor a doctor,â Siwon said dryly, âisnât she a bit slow?â
You stiffened.
âWell,â he went on, âif you werenât around for the prologue, allow me to read you in. Our business doesnât answer to the public. But our actions? They affect thousands. Every word, every move, causes ripples. Right now⌠those ripples are starting to look like waves.â
He paused, then stepped toward you againâcloser this time. His voice lowered, not with tenderness, but with power.
âAnd I will not let my sonâs death be used as an excuse for revenge. Or disrespect. For anyoneâs personal vendettaâ
You felt your throat tighten.
Siwon looked down into his glass as if it held answers. âAs much as it sickens me,â he muttered, almost to himself, âyou will marry my son. Quietly. No press, no announcement. What father buries his eldest son and then parades the wedding of the youngest a week later?â His voice broke on that sentenceâjust slightly. Barely noticeable.
You clenched your jaw. The rage was thick, humming in your bones. âWhat kind of father uses his own son like a stallion?â
A visible shiver ran down Seungcheolâs spine. He opened his mouth to speakâbut Siwon beat him to it.
âThe same one whoâs lost one,â he snapped, eyes glittering with unshed fury. âAnd the same one who refuses to lose his legacy with him.â
The room dropped into silence. Even your heartbeat had the sense to quiet.
âBack off, Siwon.â Your father's voice rang clear across the roomâcontrolled, but deadly. âI told you, there are other ways to settle this.â
Siwon turned his head slowly, a mocking smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He raised an eyebrow, the glint in his eye sharp and cruel. âIs there, Jaein?â he asked silkily. âBut then... whereâs the fun in that?â
âSiwonââ Jaein warned.
But Siwon was already moving. âYou know what?â he said, stepping back a pace. âFine.â He reached into the inside pocket of his coat, and for a second the room tensed. Fingers twitched. Muscles coiled. Then he pulled out a sleek black pistol and held it up by the barrel.
He walked toward Jaein, slow and theatrical, and pressed the cold metal into his palm. âHere,â he said, voice like venom. âYou choose. A son... for a son.â With a sudden, violent grip, he seized Rayn by the nape and shoved him forward, right in front of his father. âGo on. Choose. Shoot your eldest, and Iâll be merciful. Iâll let your daughter walk out of here untouched.â
For a long moment, time collapsed into silence.
Jaein stared at the gun in his hand.
For a man like himâwho had lived and bled by the bulletâthis used to be second nature. But now, the weight felt foreign. Like holding the ghost of a past heâd buried in a shallow grave.
âYou always find new ways to show how pathetic you are,â Jaein said finally, his voice low, deliberate. âShortsighted. Impulsive. If only youâd seen through that meeting with Leon, we wouldnât be in this mess.â
A dark line of fury slithered across Siwonâs jaw. But behind him, Seungcheolâwho had stayed silent till nowâlowered his eyes. A storm of emotion brewed within him, quiet but violent. His jaw clenched. His teeth ground together. Born of a devil, he thought. There was no doubt now.
Siwon stepped back, arms folded smugly across his chest. âSo?â he asked, almost cheerfully. âWhatâll it be, Jaein? Your son... or your daughter?â
Jaein didnât flinch. He stepped forward, the gun heavy in his handâheavier than it had ever felt. He looked at Rayn. Then turned his gaze toward you. And finally, to Siwon.
âIf itâs blood you wantâŚâ he murmured, stepping close to his son. He raised the gunâslowly, steadilyâpressing the muzzle against Raynâs temple.
Your breath caught in your throat. âF-Father?â Raynâs voice broke, eyes wide, paralyzed.
Seungcheol stiffened beside Siwon, eyes narrowing. The tension in the room crackled like dry air before a storm.
You couldnât move. Couldnât breathe. The scene in front of you shattered every illusion you ever had of the man you once called your father.
And thenâjust as his finger found the triggerâJaein moved.
In a sharp motion, he turned the gun on himself, pressing the cold barrel to his own temple.
His eyes locked on Siwon.
âSee you in hell, Siwon.â And pulled the trigger
âFATHER!!â
You stared in horror, hand clamped over your mouth, unable to comprehend what had just unfolded.
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The gym smelled of sweat, leather, and disinfectant. Heavy bags swung lazily on chains, their rhythm matching the sharp, precise punches Jeonghan landed on the bag in front of him.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
Shirt damp with sweat, gloves taped over his knuckles, he moved like a machineâtight footwork, quiet breath. The fluorescent lights above buzzed like they were struggling to keep up.
From the corner, Dr. Aamer, arms crossed and dressed in scrubs still stained from the dayâs work, watched with a raised brow. When he walked into the gym room their shared flat. His lab coat hung off the back of a chair like a ghost waiting for its body.
âYou know,â Aamer started, grinning as Jeonghan paused to wipe the sweat from his jawline with his wrist, âyou donât punch like a man whoâs keeping things casual.â
Jeonghan gave a breathy scoff, turning back to the bag.
THUMP. THUMP.
âWhat are you talking about?â he muttered, but his ears were already turning red.
âY/N,â Aamer said simply, pulling a protein bar from his coat pocket and unwrapping it. âItâs pretty damn obvious youâre head over heels, brother. Might as well step up and ask her out straight up instead of your little hints, manâ
Jeonghan stilled, hands on his hips, chest heaving as he caught his breath.
He looked at his roommate and shook his head, âYou donât get it, man, you donât know her like I do.â
Amer rolled his eyes and waved his hand in the air in dismissal, âYes, yesâ you both have known each other all your life blah, blah. Wallahi dude I tell you, you wouldânt know what hit youâ if you dont make your move then pooofâ he snapped his fingers, âsheâll be gone, you know i saw this new intern talking with her all giggly and shitâÂ
Jeonghan smirked and tuned back to his hook.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP
Jeonghan was fifteen. Skinny. Bruised. Eyes were hollow with too many sleepless nights.
The building was a crumbling messâflickering hallway lights, mildew in the corners, water-stained ceilings. The sound of glass breaking and a womanâs cry echoed from his flat. His fatherâs drunken rage was a daily routine.
Then, her door creaked open across the hallway. Y/N, hair wild and a little messy, stood barefoot in pyjamas too big for her. Her collarbone peeked out. She held a bandage box in one hand and a small flashlight in the other.
âYou need ice,â she said softly.
He didnât answer. Just stared.
âYouâre bleeding, Jeonghan.â
She was the first one to say his name like it mattered.
It is unbeknownst to him when she became such an important, indispensable part of his life, despite his many efforts to push her away. Then one day, the night when he saw her lose everything
The doctor had just said it: "She didnât make it. Iâm sorry." Cordon knew it was inevitable that her motherâs illness had become too aggressive to bring her back. And upon her insistence, he didnât make her undergo any treatment, in all honesty, for a first time in his career, he felt such helplessness for his patient, watching her wither away in pain, with the hospital and its strict rules and funding. Despite the attempt to help her enrol on the testing program. What made his heart screech was this girl, no more than skin and bones, so smart stare down her motherâs body without any tears in sight.Â
Y/N didnât scream. Didnât cry. She just turned and walked out of the hospital into the rain, the orange band that gave her a pass to come to the ward drenching was like a shackle breaking off.Â
Jeonghan ran after her.
Didnât say a word. Just kept pace behind her as the rain soaked them both. They walked for nearly two hours. Not once did she look back.
He was there. That was enough.
Jeonghan snapped out of it, eyes narrowing.
âSheâs been through enough,â he said quietly, tapping his glove twice against the heavy bag before leaning on it. âShe deserves peace. And sheâs finally got some control now.â
Aamer hummed, biting off a piece of his protein bar.
âWell,â he said between chews, âyou might want to make your move before someone else gives her more than peace.â
Jeonghan shot him a look.
âIâm serious,â Aamer laughed, raising both hands. âSheâs brilliant. Beautiful. Got fire and bite. I mean, Iâve met enough people in this city to knowâthat kind of woman doesnât stay unclaimed for long.â
Jeonghan exhaled through his nose, picked up the towel hanging off the bench, and slung it over his shoulder.
âIâm not claiming anything,â he muttered, heading toward the locker room.
âSure,â Aamer called after him, smirking, âkeep telling yourself that. But I saw the way you looked at her when she fell asleep in the waiting room last week. Like you were afraid even time would steal her from you.â
Jeonghan didnât respond.
But in the silence of the locker room, standing under the flickering light, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His knuckles were red. His heart is louder.
And the truth whispered back to him.
He was already hers.
But was she his?Â
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The only sound that echoed in the silence was the sharp click of the gun as the film rotated.
Empty.
The barrel never held a bullet.
There was a beat of stunned stillnessâthen the silence shattered with a hollow, mocking laugh from Siwon, and a sombre look dawned on Jaeinâs face. The elder Choiâs shoulders shook with delight, like a man thoroughly entertained by his own cruelty.
âAlways so emotional,â Siwon chuckled, shaking his head as if disappointed in an old friend.
You stood frozen. Disgust twisted inside your chest like a wire.
Your eyes darted between the men in the roomâyour so-called father, who played Russian roulette with lives and didn't blink, and the devil himself, Siwon, who puppeteered pain for sport.
You could feel the bile rising.
"Youâre all sick." The words slipped out before you could stop them.
But no one answered you. Siwonâs attention was still on Jaein, his voice smug. âDid you really think Iâd give you an easy way out?â
Something in Raynâs chest swelled, eyes burning, jaw clenched. His father⌠hadn't pulled the trigger. Maybeâjust maybeâhe wasnât as heartless as heâd thought.
But for you, it was too much.
Your stomach lurched. The heat behind your eyes blurred the walls. The stench of lies, power games, and betrayal felt suffocating.
You turned on your heel and ran.
Down the hall. Past the portraits. Away from the gun, the laughter, this blatant display of cruel cogency.Â
You barely made it to the door when a hand seized your wrist, yanking you backwards. The next thing you knew, you were shoved into a dim, cold roomâthe scent of cedarwood and iron clinging to the air.
The door slammed shut behind you.
âWhere do you think youâre running off to, doctor?â
His voice slithered through the dark like a blade. You thrashed against his grip with every ounce of strength, your body twisting violently, sending both of you stumbling back.
âLet. Me. Goââ
âEnough!!â he barked, and before you could resist further, he slammed you against the nearest wall, the impact jolting through your spine.
You hissed, pain flaring through your shoulder. He loomed close, breath hot, expression merciless.
âYou might be under some misconception about me⌠maybe no oneâs told you what I do to people who cross me.â
Your eyes narrowed, the fury of a cornered animal gleaming through the haze of pain. âI donât care who you are or what youâve done. And I donât care if you kill meâ But I will not let anyone decide for me. Or for my body.â
You took a breath, voice trembling yet sharp as glass.
âItâs tragic what happened to your family, truly. But I had nothing to do with it.â
He didnât flinch. In fact, his grip on your wrist tightened, bone pressing on bone.
âOh, I know that, sweetheart.â His tone dropped into something colder. âThis isnât about your guilt. Itâs about leverage. Youâre your fatherâs only weakness.â
His other hand reached upâfingers brushing your jawline. You jerked your head away, but his touch persisted, rough and deliberate.
âHe was ready to sacrifice his son for a deal tonight. But youâŚâ He smirked, pressing his thumb against your chin, tipping your face up.
âYou are priceless. Every moment you spend in agony will carve a hole in him he canât fill.â
Your heart thudded like a war drum. Rage surged. A scream built in your throat, but you swallowed it.
âDo you really want to father a child with your enemyâs daughter?â you spat.
He paused.
Then smirked. âOh, sweetheart⌠even the thought of touching you makes my skin crawl.â
You almost smiled.
âLikewise.â
Still, you pushed. âThen why the hell are you holding me like this?â
For a moment, he lookedâconfused. As if he just noticed how tightly he still held you.
His eyes trailed to his own hands: one clutching your wrist in a bruising grip, the other still on your chin.
His grip tightened further, fury flashing like lightning.
âHereâs the deal.â His voice was low, lethal. âWeâll marry. Youâll give me a son. And thenâ Iâll decide what becomes of you.â
You stared at him, voice quiet but ice-cold. âAnd if I donât?â
A smirk. A shrug. A promise carved in cruelty.
âThen I will crush everything and everyone you hold dear. Starting with the people in that hospital.â
Your heart froze.
You closed your burning eyes, breath shallow, pain pulsing through your wrist. There was no escapeâyou opened your eyesâstill burning, still defiantâbut clearer now. Controlled. Calculated.
âFine.â The word dropped from your lips like poison. âBut I have some terms.â
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If her math was right, this would be her third glass of the hard liquorâdark, peaty, and far too smooth for the bitterness she wanted to feel. It had been a gift from her predecessor, a relic left behind like the dusty files crowding her desk. Commissioner Susan Paul stared at the stack of reports, each one stamped, signed, and soaked in the rot of a name she could no longer read without fury: Choi Siwon.
Her fingers rubbed the bridge of her nose as her eyes skimmed through recordsâarrests that disappeared, evidence that changed hands mid-process, and testimonies that collapsed just before court dates. A low sigh escaped her lips as she threw her head back, the ceiling above spinning slightly.
The dull burn at the back of her eyes wasnât just from the alcohol.
A whisper from memory slipped in, uninvited but firm, like her fatherâs voice had always been
âEven if itâs buried under a mountain, we dig it out. Thatâs what we doâwe seek out the truth.â
Her jaw clenched. He had lived that code. An honest officer, dignified to a fault, respected across ranksâuntil one of his own men, a junior hungry for power, sold him out. A scapegoat. They let him fall. Then let him vanish.
Now that junior lived in a gated mansion, pension doubled through âconsultancy,â children schooled abroad, vacations taken on bribes they never admitted to. And her father? A ghost. A man who couldnât walk into a station without whispers trailing behind him.
Susan took another sip. The bastard had good taste in alcohol. Sheâd give him that.
The files in front of her blurred slightly, her vision swimming not with the drink but with a cold, steady rage. Every thread she pulled on led to one manâor more accurately, one legacy: the Choi empire and his previous lackey, Jae-in.Â
Then, in the silence of her office, her phone buzzed to life. A single message lit the screen:
Tonight. 3 AM. Same place. Donât bring your car.
She stared at it. No name. No number. Just the weight of what it meant.
She set the glass down and leaned forward, her reflection faint in the dark screen.
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The sound of the key twisting in the lock alerted Rocky. Your Doberman rose from his place near the kitchen, ears perked, head tiltedâhe knew something was wrong before he even saw you.
You stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind you. Darkness swallowed the room whole. You didnât bother turning on the lights.
You couldnât.
You didnât make it more than two steps before your knees buckled under the crushing weight of everything. You collapsed onto the cold floor, your hands hitting the ground as the first sob tore through you loud, aching, from a place so deep it startled even you.
Your whole body trembled. The sobs came again and again, wracking through your chest, shaking you like a storm too big for your frame.
Rocky whined and padded closer, gently nudging your arm with his nose. He lifted a paw and rested it awkwardly on your slumped shoulder, then leaned down to lick the tears streaking down your cheeks. It only made you cry harder.
âMamaâŚâ
The word spilt out of you like a wound reopening. A desperate, helpless cry. Your breath hitched and your body curled in on itself.
You didnât even know why you were crying anymore.
Was it because you were stripped of your pride? Because someone had taken away the controlâthe most basic rightâyou had over your own body?
Or was it because of your father?
Because after all these years, he was alive. Breathing. Living. And yet he had done nothing. Nothing to save your mother. Nothing to stop her from dying a slow, quiet death, waitingâhopingâfor a man who never came home.
Your cries grew louder. Uglier. You buried your face in your hands.
âHow am I supposed to face you, Mama?â
The question echoed inside you, louder than the sobs still trembling through your chest. What would you even say to Dr. Cordon? That everything he built for you, every sacrifice he made, was undone in a single afternoon? That his belief in you, his endless faith, had been swallowed by something so vile you could hardly name it?
And Jeonghanâhow could you ever look him in the eye again? How would he see you now? Not as the girl who fought tooth and nail to survive, not as the one who dared to hope in impossible futuresâbut as someone who had given up everything without a fight.
You rocked forward on your knees, choking on air that refused to fill your lungs. Rocky pressed close, his whines soft but insistent, his presence the only thing anchoring you to the present.
But even that couldnât keep the truth from surfacing.
Within six hours, your life had been rewritten.
You hadnât just lost controlâyou had been reshaped, rebranded. And not by choice.
The word wife clawed its way through your thoughts, unfamiliar and unbearable. It didn't feel like it belonged to you. And yetâit did. It was yours now, carved into your reality without permission.
You were married.
Married to Choi Seungcheol.
The name tasted bitter in your mouth, like poison you couldnât spit out. The truth sat there, heavy and immovable. It didnât matter that the thought of him repulsed you, that the touch of his name alone made your skin crawl.
The question echoed through the darkness. A fact written in ink, in law, in something far more binding than paper.
You felt hollow, like something had scooped you out from the inside. Like a vessel meant to carry someone elseâs legacy, not your own. And worst of all, your mother wasnât here. She wasnât here to rage on your behalf, to hold you close, to whisper that this wasnât your fault.
You were alone.
And somewhere in that darkness, with Rocky curled beside you and the night pressing in from every wall, a part of you wished she had never lived to see this.
Maybe it was better that she was gone.
END OF CHAPTER 7
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