The envelope sat where she had left it on the counter, its clean white edges catching the late afternoon light. Claire had not touched it since the morning. She did not need to. She already knew what it said.
Wear this tonight. Seven. The Crescent Hotel. Tell no one.
The necklace inside still lay in the velvet case, undisturbed. It was beautiful, delicate platinum, a single clear stone that caught the light in an honest way but that was not the point. Evan Lee Hyunsik did not give gifts without expecting something in return. And she was not about to become a line item on his ledger.
Instead of preparing for whatever game he was playing at the Crescent, she was at her desk in Yoo Industries' temporary office. The cramped space smelled faintly of damp paper, the heater groaning in the corner. The rain from yesterday had given way to a cold grey stillness, and the low hum of the heater was the only sound in the room. She liked it this way. Quiet meant control. Control meant she could think.
Her phone vibrated once, rattling against a stack of folders. A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
[You're not wearing it.]
No greeting. No name. But she knew.
She slid the phone face-down and continued reading through the supply reports.
Five minutes later, another message.
[Don't be late, Claire.]
It wasn't a request. It was a command.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She could almost see him, sitting somewhere with that detached calm, certain she would obey just because he told her to. A small part of her wanted to go, just to throw the necklace back at him in person. But she stayed seated, flipping another page with deliberate slowness.
By six-thirty, the office was empty except for her. Outside, the sky had deepened into a blue that felt colder than black. A drizzle tapped lightly against the windows, trailing silver streaks over the glass. She closed her laptop, gathered her things, and stepped into the hallway. She wasn't going to the Crescent.
She froze halfway to the elevators. Leaning casually against the wall was Kangwoo. His suit was immaculate as always, his posture relaxed but too deliberate to be casual.
"Miss Yoo," he greeted, straightening. "The car is ready."
"I didn't ask for a car." Her voice was calm, but her pulse betrayed her.
"Mr. Lee insisted."
"I'm busy."
His eyes flicked briefly to the bag in her hand. "Busy carrying work home? You can bring it with you."
"I'm not going."
Something in his jaw tightened—barely noticeable, but there. "Then I will have to tell him personally. From experience, I know he does not take refusal well."
She exhaled slowly. "Tell him whatever you like."
Kangwoo did not move aside. "Miss Yoo… this is not about the necklace. It is about being seen."
Her eyes narrowed. "Seen by who?"
A pause. "By people who matter. People you might need on your side."
She studied him, searching for the hidden layer in his words. Before she could respond, the elevator chimed, and two men in dark coats stepped out. They were strangers, and they were looking directly at her. Their expressions were polite, but there was something in the set of their shoulders…watchful, assessing.
Kangwoo's voice dropped low enough for only her to hear. "If you do not want to deal with them, you might want to get in the car."
She hated this…the way every path seemed to lead where Evan wanted her. But she stepped into the elevator with Kangwoo, because answers were worth more than a small act of rebellion.
The ride to the Crescent Hotel was quiet. Through the tinted windows, the city lights flickered like restless fireflies. Claire sat rigid in the backseat, the necklace case resting unopened in her lap. She still had no intention of wearing it.
The Crescent rose ahead like something from another world…white stone walls, art deco lines, and golden light spilling from its windows. Even in the drizzle, the building glowed like it had stolen the warmth from the night. Kangwoo led her through a side entrance, bypassing the grand lobby. The air here smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive wine.
They entered a private elevator. The button for the top floor was already lit.
When the doors opened, the view was striking. Glass walls framed the glittering city below. Evan stood near the open terrace, the wind lifting a strand of his hair. He turned as they approached, his gaze pausing at her bare neck.
"You're not wearing it," he said.
"I'm not," she replied evenly.
One corner of his mouth curved…not a smile, not exactly approval. "Interesting."
She crossed her arms. "Why am I here?"
"You will see."
She hated that answer. Hated more the flicker of curiosity it planted in her.
Two men in tailored suits entered from the terrace, their polished shoes clicking softly against the floor. They were older, their movements unhurried, their presence filling the space without trying. Men who were used to having doors opened for them before they even reached for the handle.
Evan stepped forward to greet them, and in that moment, Claire understood. This was not dinner. This was business. And she was part of the display.
The men's eyes shifted to her. She lifted her chin, her expression calm. She would not give Evan the satisfaction of looking out of place. Whatever game this was, she would play it without letting him set all the rules.
One of the men smiled faintly, as if amused by her composure. "This must be Miss Yoo," he said, his voice carrying the warmth of someone who already knew more about her than she would like.
Claire returned the faintest smile, polite but cool. "And you are?"
Names were exchanged, but she barely heard them. Her attention kept sliding back to Evan. He was watching her, not the men, his eyes assessing…not if she belonged here, but how well she would hold her ground.
She met his gaze and didn't look away. If he wanted her here to be a prop, he would at least learn she was not one to fade into the background.
The conversation around her shifted into business…shares, contracts, negotiations but she stayed quiet, observing. There was a rhythm to the exchange, and Evan controlled it with effortless precision. Every word was a measured step, every pause calculated.
She realized then that this was not just about her being seen. It was about who was seeing her and what they would now assume.
By the time the meeting eased toward its end, she knew two things. First, Evan Lee Hyunsik never invited anyone into his orbit without a reason. Second, whatever his reason for bringing her here, she was already part of it.
And walking away might not be as simple as leaving the room.