So stupid. Can't believe she had the nerve. And now, I can't even focus on what ever that blabbermouth money-leeching manager is bullting about. Chansung thought. 

"...I think," Chansung said in the most authorative way, not even looking at the poor guys eye, "...we'll post pone this meeting to another week. Let he become well-verse on what exactly he's trying to say, give me another look on that proposal, then probably, my pen would sign them for you." 

The guy, in his mid-30s didn't seem impressed. He wore a smile on his cunning face, perpetually arranging his sentences for Chansung, his way-too-young-to-be-a-superior boss. "I don't think that's possible, sir. If you have been paying attention to anything I say, the project would cost less than 3.5% of the profits this company makes. I have enclosed everything in the proposal left on your desk for the last two months. If you read them, intently—" To Chansung's distaste, the super-long-time employee is testing his patience by questioning his credibility. Oh I'll show you credibility. "Excuse you, sir. Your proposal lacks blueprints and budget estimation. And the land you're trying to build this casino on hasn't had their lawful inspection. And using the casino earnings to aid orphanage homes? A blatant idiot would surely do so. I will not have these kids grow up on dirty money." 

The guy winced his face, his smile glitched. "Dirty money?"

Chansung's eyes gradually met his. "Yes. Dirty money. Everyone in this room knows that the money used in gambling are from underground."

Chansung stood up, threw his proposal across the table, watched by 23 other officials. "As I was saying, 3.5 per cent is still profit. I've done my calculation. So before you say anything about my attention, be concise in your writings so you don't have to talk much in your presentation. You clearly have no sense in what's important and what's crap." He left the room and his personal assistant follows right after. "I'm sorry sir, it is impossible to postpone this meeting anymore. Next week is filled with visits and dimplomatic affairs across the globe, I'm afraid there's no more time." She nervously say, almost tripping trying to follow Chansung's steps. "Then cancel the bull. I don't care. And for that global meeting, you booked tickets for my wife too, didn't you? I want the whole first class be ours." He commanded. 

"What a lucky tramp." Chansung spun to stumble upon Hara. Before he could spit out some insults, Hara smacked her lips together, unimpressed. She's dressed in a hot pink thigh-length dress, with a scarf around her neck, slowly approaching Chansung. "The divorce has been long overdue hasn't it?" Hara announced. Everyone in the office stops and stare for a brief moment before resuming their work. 

-----

Mail's here. Probably one of those companies will call in for an interview. You felt that you will literally rot if you have to spend another day in this house, doing nothing but wait for the prince to come home. Your laptop has gone haywire and you had too much pride to ask for Chansung's. You didn't want to come across any picture to your despice. It wasn't hard to differentiate Chansung's letters from yours. His were always the thicker ones. Accept for one. 

"Nocturne Fertility Lab." You were intrigued to read them. Should you tore them open?

-----

Hara left Chansung's office with a smile, to find his mother in the lounge. Bowing to greet her, she replied her polite gesture with a slap across her porcelain face. "Shameless." She spat at Hara. "I'll have restraining orders against you. Know your place." She added and walk off. 

Hara's tears fell on both side of her cheeks. "Madam." She called. "If this stinging pain in my face is what I get from loving your son and the crimes he commits, then so shall be it. But the baby I'm carrying is his, and no law in the world would have that denied. You can't feign DNA." Hara sniffes, rubbing her tummy. "It wouldn't be, if you have a miscarriage. An accidental ones." Chansung mother replied. 

"And I know my son." 

Hara scoffed. "Do you?" She whispered. 

-----

Chansung returns home around 10pm that night. She had the lights on again, he huffed. Then he heard it. The sound of a roller bag being dragged down the stairs. He leans against the door frame, watching her with his arms crossed. "I literally can't." You chanted as you go down. You knew he was watching all along and you weren't going to stop no matter what he says. "I can't find my phone in my own house. I'm having panic attacks every two minute at the sound of the door clicking open and close only to find the gardener and the maid rushing in and out." You nagged. 

He his lips to find a suitable reply, but finds himself satisfied with a flimsy, "Let's talk."