The rest of the week went smoother than Jemma expected it to, when managing a group of such a large scale. Kyuhyun had taken her scolding pretty seriously, much to her delight, and wasn’t late even once over the course of the week. The boys, except for Siwon who had left for China on Friday, were constantly in meetings about their new album, which allowed the new manager to easily settle into the new work atmosphere. Though things ran quite differently from the way she was used to, there was some sort of mutual understanding between her and the other managers, leaving them working peacefully together. It wasn’t until Sunday that anyone really tried prying into her personal life – or lack thereof.

“The boys wanted to do a small dinner at the dorms tonight,” Myungsoo told her, when they were exiting the company building together, retrieving the vans that would take the boys home after another endless concept meeting, “And they wanted to invite you as well. You know, to get to know you better,” he smiled.

Jemma looked up from her phone – there was an email from her mother that she still hadn’t opened, waiting in her inbox and silently judging her – and nodded, not fully realizing what she was agreeing to, “Fantastic, Ryeowook will cook and we will meet on the 11th floor at seven,” he said, slipping into the van and driving towards the front of the office. Jemma stared back at the car, finally grasping the implication of his words and internally cursed herself for not paying any attention. Shaking her head, she got into the car and followed Myungsoo. She had the rest of the day off using it to catch up on some reading. The concept for the Jeju Island variety had been sent out two days before, but she hadn’t had the time to read the entire thing so far, instead just scanning over it.

Once back at the officetel, she made herself a cup of coffee and settled on the couch, opening the file on her computer and reading the details. The concept was simple, 10 international fans spending 2 weeks together with Super Junior – though the actual shoot, she saw, would take three – on Jeju Island, where the band would be showing them around, introducing them to the Korean culture, language and cuisine. As simple as it sounded, the project required a lot of planning, mostly concerning the international fans. In truth, none of the Super Junior members, save for Henry, Donghae and Siwon, were able to speak English, and that would turn out to be a problem at some point. Jemma had suggested to the other managers that they have the boys enroll into an English class; however they had said it wasn’t necessary for now and that it wasn’t possible with their busy schedules. Sighing in frustration at the memory, Jemma went back to reading over the participants’ profiles, noting the wide variety of nationalities. There was a German girl listed, and Jemma read through her personal statement, both in English and German. Giving herself a pat on the back for still having kept her German language skills, even after 6 years, she moved on, skimming over the other participants’ profiles and avoiding looking at her phone, where the dreaded email still waited.

Jemma and her mother had had a rather lukewarm relationship over the past few years, ever since the younger one moved to Korea. She deeply cherished her mother as a person, however never felt anything more than what she knew she was supposed to. She could never tell her mother “I love you” no matter how hard she tried, because she just didn’t feel love towards the woman, yet didn’t want to lie to her either. Her father…well, her father was a different topic altogether. She had dubbed him the bravest and most amazing person she had ever known when she was a child, however as she grew up she started seeing the flaws in him. It wasn’t until her 14th birthday when he asked her mother to split up – saying that he deeply loved her, but she stood in his way – that she realized that her father, Officer James Ling, was no saint. She saw very little of him over the next few years, but caught wind of his affair with a woman of questionable background. Jemma never said anything; however she would sometimes overhear the woman – Maria – on the phone, talking about things like “traffic” and “deal”. The young girl often wanted to tell her father about it, but whenever the topic came up, he dismissed it as her being irrational and trying to break up his happiness. The night of her seventeenth birthday was one that she would never forget. She was supposed to meet with her father for dinner to celebrate – her mother being out of town for work – but no matter how often she called, he never picked up. It wasn’t until late in the night, after she had curled up in a ball and cried herself to sleep, convinced that her father no longer cared about her, that a phone call came. The phone rang, startling her out of her restless sleep, and she padded barefoot down the quiet hall.

“Miss Ling?” the voice had solemnly spoken, the hard edge to it startling Jemma awake.

“This is her speaking,” her mother had changed back to her maiden name, so she was the only Miss Ling present in this house.

“This is Officer Andrews of the NYPD. We would like to ask you to come down to the police station to give a witness statement, Miss,”

“What…what is this about,” she had asked, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again.

“We would explain as soon as you come down to the station, Miss,” the voice had said and hung up. Jemma had hastily put on some clothes and called a cab, driving straight to the police department. The hours that followed were a blur. Officer Andrews had spoken to her softly, trying to understand her between the broken sobs escaping her lips, as he explained the situation.

Her father had been caught in a cross fire between two street gangs and had been shot. His right lung had been pierced, the bullet grazing his heart; Officer Andrews explained that the doctors had done everything to save him, but the damage had been beyond repair; the time of death was set at 1:47AM.

Jemma didn’t sleep that night. Her mother had been informed about the incident, rushing to get the earliest possible flight back to New York. The young girl was asked questions, so many questions, to which she didn’t know how to reply. Officer Andrews, her father’s partner, stayed by her side the entire time.

“Jemma,” he had said around five in the morning, “I know your father was involved with a woman named Maria Sanchez. She disappeared after the incident and we have been urgently trying to find her…to question her,”

“She had something to do with it, Officer Andrews,” Jemma had spoken for the first time in hours, her voice hoarse from crying, “I tried warning my father, but he wouldn’t….he didn’t…” the tears started rolling again and she buried her head in her hands.

“Your father was on a case, Jemma.