Hara sat in front of her vanity, brushing her hair absentmindedly as her reflection stared back at her—flawless, composed, and poised.
But beneath the surface, she felt it.
Something was slipping.
Damian had stopped calling as often. His smiles had grown thin, his compliments mechanical. The warmth in his voice—the subtle softness he used to reserve only for her—was gone.
Replaced by distance.
A hollow space neither money nor makeup could fill.
She stared harder into the mirror, gripping the brush tighter. "It's her," she whispered to herself. "It's always her."
Her twin. The girl she thought she'd buried in the past. The girl who returned with secrets, shaking the foundation Hara built for years.
And now, she was stealing Damian too.
Hara rose from her seat and stormed out of the room, her heels clicking against the marble like daggers. She needed answers—confirmation of what she feared.
She drove straight to Damian's office, unannounced. As she stepped off the elevator, the receptionist offered a hesitant smile. "Mr. Lee is in a meeting…"
"With who?" Hara snapped.
The girl faltered. "Miss Claire… Miss Claire Bennett."
Hara's eyes darkened.
Claire.
She waited by the lounge, pretending to sip the coffee placed in front of her. Twenty minutes passed before the door finally opened and Claire exited, holding a folder.
They locked eyes for a moment.
Claire smiled—cool, professional. But there was something in her gaze. Confidence. Satisfaction.
She knew something.
Hara said nothing and walked in as Claire disappeared into the elevator.
Damian didn't look surprised to see her. "Hara."
"You're avoiding me," she said simply.
"I've been busy."
"With her?" Her tone sharpened. "With Hena?"
Damian didn't answer immediately. That pause—however brief—told her everything.
She folded her arms. "You think I'm blind? I know she's back. I saw her wearing your jacket. I saw how you looked at her at the estate. You're falling for her, aren't you?"
Damian kept his voice steady. "That's not your concern anymore."
She recoiled, pain flashing through her eyes. "After everything I've done for you? For this family?"
"Exactly," he said coldly. "You've done a lot. And not all of it noble."
Hara blinked rapidly, but her pride wouldn't let her beg. She turned, heels clicking with venom.
But the cracks were growing, spreading deeper than even she realized.
Back at the estate, a storm raged outside—lightning splitting the sky.
Hara stood by the window in a silk robe, swirling a glass of red wine, her mind racing.
She wouldn't lose. She couldn't.
But then came the knock.
When she opened the door, her expression froze.
"Jae-woon?" she breathed.
Her ex-boyfriend stood there, drenched from the rain but smiling softly. "I heard you needed help."
"I didn't call you."
"No," he said. "But I felt you."
Hara crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
"I want to help you win," he said. "You deserve to be happy. And if that means getting rid of Hena—permanently—say the word."
Her jaw clenched.
For a moment, her thoughts flickered. Could she?
But then she shook her head, disgusted. "You think I need your help? You pathetic leech. You want to be my knight in shining armor now that I'm losing?"
Jae-woon flinched.
"I don't need anyone. Least of all you," she sneered. "Leave."
He hesitated. "Hara, don't let this obsession—"
"I SAID GET OUT!"
Thunder roared as she slammed the door shut behind him.
She stood in the silence that followed, her chest heaving.
No. She didn't need help.
She just needed a plan.
Meanwhile, the gala glittered with chandeliers and champagne.
Seoul's elite moved like chess pieces—power, wealth, and secrets wrapped in silk and satin.
Claire adjusted her tray, dressed in a server's uniform, her eyes scanning the crowd.
She had memorized the estate floor plan, every exit and every hallway. Damian had briefed her in private: the study upstairs, behind the locked panel. That's where Madam Seo kept her private documents.
Claire moved gracefully between tables, offering drinks, gathering whispers.
She passed Madam Seo herself—elegant in black velvet, eyes like polished daggers. The woman smiled to a guest, but Claire caught it—something tight behind the charm.
She was hiding something.
As Claire moved toward the stairwell, a voice stopped her.
"You there. New girl."
She turned. Madam Seo stood before her.
Claire lowered her head. "Yes, ma'am?"
"You seem familiar." Her eyes narrowed. "Have we met?"
"No, ma'am," Claire said smoothly. "First time working this venue."
"Hm." Madam Seo studied her for a long moment. Then smiled. "You have a trustworthy face."
Claire bowed slightly. "Thank you, ma'am."
As Madam Seo turned away, Claire exhaled silently. Her heart pounded, but she kept walking.
She slipped past the hallway and toward the stairwell—silent and swift.
Tonight was just the beginning.
Because the truth was closer than ever.
And soon, it would no longer be a secret.