The elevator ride down felt longer than the one that had brought her up. Claire kept her chin high, but her grip on her handbag was tight enough to leave faint marks on her palm. Every second replayed Evan Lee Hyunsik's voice in her head. His calm, arrogant certainty that she would have no choice but to say yes.
When the lobby doors slid open, the world outside felt too loud, too bright. People rushed past with coffee cups and briefcases, unaware that her life had just been cornered in a glass tower.
The company driver was waiting at the curb, the black sedan polished to a mirror shine. She didn't speak during the ride, didn't even notice the blur of skyscrapers giving way to older, weathered buildings. Her mind was on her father.
Her father's office was a far cry from Lee International's fortress-like opulence. The walls were lined with old wooden shelves sagging under the weight of paper files. The faint scent of dust and coffee that had been reheated too many times clung to the air. The blinds rattled faintly from a draft sneaking in through the cracked window frame.
"Claire," her father said when she stepped inside, relief flickering in his eyes. "You're back early."
She set her bag down on the worn leather couch. "Have you signed anything new?"
He frowned, puzzled. "Not yet. There's a meeting on Thursday… why?"
Her gaze swept the desk, taking in the stacks of unpaid invoices, the red-stamped notices that had been pushed to one side as if ignoring them would make them disappear. A lump formed in her throat. She had grown up watching him work late nights to build this business from scratch. Now, one wrong move could take it all away.
"Just… be careful," she said, keeping her voice light. "Some offers look like a way out but come with strings."
He chuckled softly, clearly thinking she was talking about the usual corporate predators. "I've been in business a long time, Claire. I know how to spot a bad deal."
If only he knew the strings were already tightening around both of them.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. She slid it out without thinking. A text glared back at her in crisp, unhurried words:
Read the contract. —E.L.
Her pulse spiked. She locked the phone before her father could see. "I'm going to head home early. Need to sort some things out."
That night, in her apartment, she sat at the kitchen table staring at the folder Evan had slid across the desk. The words Marriage Contract seemed to mock her from the cover page.
She flipped through it. Every clause was designed with surgical precision: no public displays beyond agreed events, no interference in each other's personal affairs, and an iron-clad non-disclosure agreement that would bind her long after it ended.
It was cold. Impersonal. Like she wasn't a person at all, but a business arrangement.
She pushed the folder away. Her hands itched to tear it apart, but she knew Evan had a copy… probably ten copies, tucked into safes and encrypted drives.
The phone rang again. This time, it wasn't him. It was her father's assistant, panic sharpening her voice.
"Miss Yoo… the bank called. They're freezing the company accounts pending review. Mr. Yoo doesn't know yet. I—I thought you should hear it first."
Claire's stomach dropped. "Pending review" was polite banking language for you're in trouble. She didn't need to guess who had pulled the strings.
She flipped through it. Every clause was designed with surgical precision: no public displays beyond agreed events, no interference in each other's personal affairs, and an iron-clad non-disclosure agreement that would bind her long after it ended.
It was cold. Impersonal. Like she wasn't a person at all, but a business arrangement.
She pushed the folder away. Her hands itched to tear it apart, but she knew Evan had a copy… probably ten copies, tucked into safes and encrypted drives.
The phone rang again. This time, it wasn't him. It was her father's assistant, panic sharpening her voice.
"Miss Yoo… the bank called. They're freezing the company accounts pending review. Mr. Yoo doesn't know yet. I…I thought you should hear it first."
Claire's stomach dropped. "Pending review" was polite banking language for you're in trouble. She didn't need to guess who had pulled the strings.
The next morning, she barely slept. Coffee did nothing to untangle the knot in her chest. By the time she reached the office, the tension was palpable. Employees spoke in low voices, and no one met her eyes. She walked straight to her father's door. It was closed, but she could hear muffled voices. His, and someone else's.
When the door opened, a man in a navy suit stepped out, briefcase in hand. He glanced at her, then walked away without a word. Her father looked up from his desk, his smile strained.
"Just a minor hiccup with the accounts. They'll resolve it."
Claire's fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Dad, this isn't random. Someone's forcing your hand."
He sighed. "Claire, you can't fight people who own the playing field. Sometimes, you have to work with them."
Her heart sank. Evan was already in his head without even being in the room.
Evan's POV
From the corner office of Lee International, Evan stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching Seoul's skyline shift in the morning haze. His phone rested on the desk, a single message thread still open.
"She'll call by Friday," he told kangwoo without turning.
"And if she doesn't?"
"She will." His voice carried the certainty of a man who had never needed to repeat himself. "By tomorrow morning, she'll understand exactly what it means to run out of time."
Kangwoo hesitated. "You're aware she hates you."
"That's the point." Evan's mouth curved slightly. "She won't pretend with me. And that makes her predictable."
He picked up his glass of bourbon, even though it was barely past noon, letting the amber catch the light. Claire Yoo Areum was already moving across his chessboard. She just didn't realize yet that the game had started the moment she walked into his building.