Morning light filtered through the penthouse windows. Hana stood barefoot on the balcony, arms wrapped around herself. The city below looked peaceful—but her heart was anything but.
Last night, Joon-Hyuk didn't ask questions. He just let her sit, breathe, exist.
And that silence said more than any forced apology.
She turned to find him already awake, dressed sharply as always, but there was a difference—his tie was undone. And his phone was off.
For her.
"I want to see the will," she said.
His eyes met hers, calm but unreadable.
"You're sure?"
She nodded. "I need to know what he left behind… and why they were all after me."
An hour later, they arrived at his law firm's Seoul branch. The head lawyer bowed deeply.
"We've secured the document," he said, sliding a black folder across the table.
Hana stared at it, her hands trembling.
It wasn't just a will.
It was the last words of her father. The man she once believed had abandoned her in death. Betrayed her legacy.
She opened it slowly.
And then she saw it—
"To my beloved daughter, Seo Hana.If you're reading this, I'm no longer by your side. But my enemies will be.Be careful whom you trust.Everything I built—it's yours.But more than that, I pray you never forget how brave you are.Live. Fight. Be free.—Dad."
Her vision blurred.
Joon-Hyuk gently took her hand.
"You weren't just a target," he whispered. "You were the crown."
Meanwhile, Baek Do-Won sat in his dark office, seething.
The Kang family had moved. Lawyers. Security. Surveillance.
"She's no longer vulnerable," his assistant reported, nervously.
"She will be," Baek growled. "Every empire has a weak link. Even the Kangs."
He turned to the photograph on his desk—an old photo of Hana's father, in younger days.
"You thought you could outplay me, old friend," he muttered. "But your daughter's not as smart as you."
He picked up the phone.
"Find someone close to her. Someone she won't suspect."