My entire life, I had been preparing for moments I had no desire to face. As the daughter of an influential family of renowned therapists, I had always known I would be used as a pawn to further their legacy. But I hadn't expected it to happen so soon—or so ruthlessly.
"Yoon Seo," my father's voice rang with authority, his gaze sharp behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "You've been selected to be the private therapist for Kang Jiho."
My breath hitched. Kang Jiho. The reclusive CEO of KangTech, the youngest self-made billionaire in Korea, and a man whose name sent ripples across industries. He was famous not just for his wealth and brilliant mind but for his icy demeanor and near-total withdrawal from public life.
"Why me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Because no one else can handle him," my father replied. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Hana. You'll prove yourself as a therapist and elevate our family name."
Opportunity? This wasn't an opportunity—it was a test. A challenge. A trap. But before I could protest, my father added, "Don't forget our family's reputation. What if they assist other therapist. It will affect our whole family.
I stared at him, my chest tightening. Refusal wasn't an option. Not when my younger brother depended on me. Not when I had no other choice.
---
I sat in the backseat of the sleek black car sent to pick me up, clutching my bag tightly as the city blurred past the tinted windows. The farther we drove from the bustling streets of Seoul, the quieter it became. Soon, the towering buildings gave way to sprawling estates. And then, there it was: Kang Jiho's mansion.
Calling it a mansion felt like an understatement. The sprawling structure was a masterpiece of modern architecture, all sharp angles and glass, perched on the edge of a serene lake. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine. It was beautiful, almost ethereal. But it also felt cold, unwelcoming—much like the man who lived there.
A stern-looking butler greeted me at the door. "Miss Yoon, this way." His tone was polite but distant, much like the house itself. I followed him through the grand foyer, my heels clicking against the marble floor. Everything was immaculate, from the gleaming surfaces to the carefully arranged decor. But there was no warmth, no sign of life. It was as if the house itself was holding its breath.
We stopped outside a set of double doors. "Mr. Kang is expecting you," the butler said before retreating.
I took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.
The room was a study, dominated by a massive desk and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the lake. And there he was. Kang Jiho.
He was seated behind the desk, his attention focused on a laptop. He didn't look up as I entered. For a moment, I was struck by how young he looked—barely in his early thirties, with sharp features and an air of quiet intensity. But there was also a tension in his posture, a rigidity that hinted at the battles he fought within.
"Mr. Kang," I began, my voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface.
"Sit," he said curtly, still not looking up. His voice was deep, clipped, and devoid of any warmth.
I obeyed, taking the seat across from him. For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by the faint hum of his laptop. Finally, he closed it and looked at me.
His eyes were piercing, dark and unreadable. They seemed to see right through me, stripping away any pretense. It was unsettling, to say the least.
"You're younger than I expected," he said, his tone neutral but his words carrying a hint of disapproval.
"And you're colder than I expected," I shot back before I could stop myself.
His eyebrows lifted, just slightly. For a moment, I thought I'd overstepped, that he'd throw me out before we even began. But then, to my surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched, as if he was amused.
"Bold," he said. "That's good. You'll need to be."
The tension in the room eased, just a fraction. But it was enough for me to find my footing.
"I'm here to help you, Mr. Kang," I said, meeting his gaze head-on. "But I can't do that if you shut me out."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me. "And what makes you think I need your help?"
"Because you agreed to this," I replied. "You wouldn't have if you didn't think it was necessary."
For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, just once. "Fine. Let's see what you've got."
It wasn't exactly a warm welcome, but it was a start. And as I left his study that day, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just stepped into a game I didn't fully understand. One where the stakes were higher than I could have imagined.
But I wasn't going to back down. Not yet.