If not, I will disinherit Jaejoong as my adopted son.

The words of Jaejoong’s father rung in his ears, and he chuckled bitterly as he heard them. From day one, ever since he’d been born, his father had already disinherited him. Jaejoong never remembered ever calling him “Father” to his face - their relationship had been so estranged ever since he was a child, he never associated him with any empathetic feeling at all. And on a business scale, it was the perfect trade off - after all, President Kim never announced him as his son unless it was under the public eye. Jaejoong was used to being insulted and isolated by his father like this, but to take Jonghyun, his younger sibling, and put him through it too - Jaejoong couldn’t stand it. His father had already made this mistake once in his life, and yet he dared to make it again? His blood ran cold at the thought of it, and he pushed the table angrily, standing up abruptly with his hands clenched into tight fists. His strange behaviour evoked the surprise of the reporters and journalists, who had instantly grabbed their cameras and began snapping furiously, wondering why the heir of the Kim enterprise responded so angrily.

However, before Jaejoong could say anything in protest to his father, the lights suddenly dimmed and the whole room was cloaked in a blanket of darkness.

“What’s going on?”

“Is the President losing money to the point where he can’t even afford a hall with the proper light fixtures?”

There was chaos as Jaejoong felt his father stand up from his chair behind him and walk blindly into the darkness, trying to gather his crew to fix the problem. He heard him whisper angrily into a bodyguard’s ear, and the muscular figure disappeared swiftly into the crowd. Taking advantage of the sudden situation, Jaejoong grabbed Jonghyun’s arm and snuck behind the podium, taking the exit door to the left. Thankful that Jonghyun was staying quiet for a second, they walked out of the hall and into the lobby that housed the secretary’s desk.

“What exactly was that?”

“That is what your father is really like, ” Jaejoong snapped. “Miss him?”

“Well, I haven’t had a father for all my life, and I sure as hell don’t need one now.” There was a small pause of silence at Jonghyun’s remark, until he cut through the quiet again.

“Are you really my brother?”

Jaejoong closed his eyes, sighing. He remembered when he’d first found out-he’d been rejected all his life, and now his father was telling him about another son he’d had? He’d been shunned for life because of this boy, his “half-brother” that was undergoing treatments for a terminal illness, and he was supposed to take care of him? Though Jaejoong knew life wasn’t fair, he felt that the brunt of the fairness had always been pushed towards him. He’d always gotten the leftovers, the parts everyone left after they’d picked meticulously at their food. Gritting his teeth, Jaejoong made an attempt at keeping the conversation light, hoping not to betray any of his true feelings.

“Half. Don’t be too cheeky, your genes can barely compare to mine.”

“Do you think this a joke?”

“No. But do you think my father takes it as reality?” 

Jonghyun’s mouth suddenly gaped open, and Jaejoong wondered if he’d let something surprising slip. Trying to think back and retrace his words in case he’d said anything inappropriate for the situation, he tapped Jonghyun’s shoulder. “Jonghyun-something wrong?”

Jonghyun just pointed in front of him, and Jaejoong turned around.

There, right in front of them, was a  girl with a beautiful red scar on her face.