Hana

“Let me see that,” My hands snatch Jimin’s laptop off his lap and I focus my eyes on the images on the screen.

“Careful!” Jimin frets over his precious laptop, fingers still holding on to the chassis.

I shoo his hands away and press the play button, watching the images that the traffic camera captured. Jimin had dug through traffic cams until he found the date of the accident when I had told him that the girl may be Luhan’s child. There’s no way that the accident would have been coincidence if she really was Luhan’s child.

I watch as another car plows into Yoongi’s Aston Martin, and I hiss at the memory. But what I didn’t remember was the third car that was behind Ahyeon’s car, going at an extremely high speed. Were they being chased?

I clicked at another angle, and I could see both of the cars speeding to the intersection. The front kept changing lanes and the one behind it was close on its tail. I stick in my flash drive and save a copy of the video as Jimin blinks beside me.

“They were being chased,” He murmurs without me saying anything, and something in the pit of my stomach shrivels at that knowledge. If both of us had come to the same conclusion separately, there was a high likelihood that it was true.

“But why?” I narrow my eyes at the screen, pressing replay shakily. “Lu Han wasn’t even in the car.”

But right before the video was about to show the collision a second time, the door to Jimin’s floor opens and I snap the laptop shut out of pure habit, and then grimace and realize that probably looked more suspicious than watching a traffic cam video.

Jungkook and Namjoon, both in the doorway, arch their eyebrows at the movement and their eyes flicker to the laptop that I place on the coffee table in front of Jimin’s luxurious couch.

“Jimin, can I talk to you?” Jungkook’s eyes are focused on me though, and I blink innocently back. We hadn’t talked since the New Year’s party, and even though I had tried, he was pushing me away. And it wasn’t about the nature of our fake engagement either. I had needed to talk to him about the funding of the drug testing, and he had stoically said that he’d look at it later.

That wasn’t like him at all.

Jimin and Jungkook escape into another room, and Namjoon plops down on the couch, “Hana.”

“Hm?”

“The restraining order against Yifan went through and I have a copy if you want to see it.”

My face darkens and I stand up, padding to the kitchen because I didn’t want to have this discussion at the moment.

“Hana, look, you really should take him to court—”

“No,” I snap, not bother to look back over my shoulder. “Do you have any idea what that implies about me?”

“But you’re letting him walk free,” Namjoon tries to reason with me, and I know that he’s actually right. Protecting my image was the selfish thing to do, but I had done a lot of selfish things lately.

Like dance with Min Yoongi.

And as much as I wanted to forget that, I couldn’t. I couldn’t forget the feel of him against me, and his hot breath against my neck, and how utterly wrong it was but how it felt like the complete opposite.

I shove that thought out of my head and turn toward the young lawyer that had won hundreds of cases in his short career, “What do you think will happen to the men that I deal with once they find out what Yifan did? Do you think I will have any sort of respect in the business world? Even my dad doesn’t know, only us four—”

“You think I can’t protect you with that?” Namjoon leans forward on his arms across the countertop, and I can feel the anger starting to bubble from my core.

“Protect me? Protect me? I don’t need your goddamn protection,” I spit back at him, and he hastily tries to backtrack, knowing that was a bad choice of words. For someone so smart, he could be ridiculously stupid sometimes. “Your legal documents and juries only have jurisdiction over such a small part of reality. I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to protect us. And being my lawyer and telling me to take Yifan to court won’t protect us.”

“He came back, Hana! You think he won’t try coming back again? He came with Min Yoongi, and if they get any of the information that Yifan has, anything about Chanyeol, any leads we have are finished!” Namjoon walks around the kitchen island, grabs my shoulders, and shakes me.

“I’ll take care of Min Yoongi,” I stare Namjoon back in the eyes. “Trust me, I will handle him.”

“It’s not you that I don’t trust,” Namjoon lets go, muttering. “It’s him.”

“He cut off all communication to Yifan after the Christmas Gala.”

“How do you know?”

“Chanyeol overheard it when he was pretending to be asleep,” I lie through my teeth. The real reason was that Yoongi himself had told me, but that was a mess that none of us needed to get into. “Namjoon, I need you to look into something for me, but I can’t explain it.”

He doesn’t look happy with that arrangement, but out of everyone in the world, we could only trust the four of us and maybe a few others—Lay and Chanyeol come to mind. He blinks before speaking slowly, “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you get me adoption papers, and I need you to speed them up so they are done very quickly and very discreetly.”

“What? Hana you can’t be serious—”

“I’m dead serious, and yes this is connected to our business,” I check the time and I curse. There was somewhere I needed to be.

“I can do that, but I need to tell you that you have to be careful.” For the first time, worry flashes across Namjoon’s face, and my lips twitch up. I pat his shoulder.

“In our world, careful gets us nowhere.”

And then I turn on my heel, flash drive in hand and I head upstairs. Not only did I have to go to the hospital to see Yoongi for the first time after the New Year’s party, but I also had to throw away my pride and beg Lay for the biggest favor that I would ever ask for.
 

Suga

She’s engaged.

She’s happy with Jungkook.

She’s engaged.

She’s my competitor.

She’s engaged.

She will do anything to undermine me.

She’s engaged.

She will do anything to get rid of any of our four companies, one by one.

She’s engaged.

She’s Byun Hana.

I ruffle my hair in annoyance, because the last thought that flashed through my head was the reason that I was so frustrated. Byun Hana had to have a reason for playing with me at the New Year’s party. She was an incredible actress and an even better game master.

But it wasn’t easy to try to forget the smell of her soft hair, and her moan when I had accidentally pinched the inside of her thigh, and the feel of her against me, and how was supposed to be wron