Present Day

The words stood out starkly, black against the white paper.

A boy. Born yesterday.

A simple message that might have been the bringer of joy. But to Yoon Hyunjae it meant that his wife had given a son to another man, and none to him. It meant that the world would know of his humiliation, and that made him curse until there was nobody left to curse, except himself, for being a blind fool. His face was not pleasant at that moment. It was cruel and frightening.

Fear of that face had made Soojin leave him as soon as she knew she was pregnant, six months ago. He had arrived home to find her gone, leaving him a note. It had said that there was another man. She was pregnant. It was no use trying to find her. That was all.

She had taken everything he had ever given her, down to the last diamond, the last stitch of couture clothing. He’d pursued her like an avenging fury, not in person but through a battery of expensive lawyers, nailing her down to a divorce settlement that left her nothing beyond what she had already taken.

Three floors below him was the heart of Seoul’s financial district, a world he had made his own by shrewdness, cunning and sheer mind. His employees were in awe of him, his rivals were afraid of him. That was how he liked it. But now they would laugh.

He turned the paper between his fingers. His hands were strong, the hands of a workman, not just an international financier.

His face was the same; cold, with a sharpness ness about it that not only due to the shape of features, but also because of the glowering intensity in his eyes. That, and his tall, broad-shouldered body, attracted the kind of woman—and there were plenty of them—who gravitated towards power and intelligence. Physical power. Financial power. All kinds. Since the break-up of his marriage he hadn’t lacked company.

He treated them well, according to his lights, was generous with gifts but not with words or feelings, and broke with them abruptly when he realised they did not have what he was seeking.

He could not have said what that was. He only knew that he’d found it once, long ago, with a girl who had shining eyes and a great heart.

He barely remembered the boy he’d been then, full of impractical ideas about love lasting forever. Not cynical, not grasping, believing that love and life were both good: a foolishness that had been cruelly cured.

He brought himself firmly back to the present. Dwelling on lost happiness was a weakness, and he always cut out weakness as ruthlessly as he did everything else. He strode out of the office and down to the underground parking lot, where his car was waiting.

He could have had a chauffeur but he loved to drive it himself. It was his personal trophy, the proof of how far he’d come since the days when he’d had to make do with an old jeep that would have collapsed if he hadn’t repaired it himself.

Even with his best efforts it was liable to break down at odd moments, and then she would laugh and chatter as she handed him spanners. Sometimes she would get under the car with him, and they would kiss and laugh like mad things.

And perhaps it was a kind of madness, he thought as he headed the car out of the city to his villa in the country. Mad, because that heart-stopping joy could never last. And it hadn’t.

He’d brushed the thought of her aside once, but now she seemed to be there beside him as he drove on in the darkness, tormenting him with memories of how enchanting she had been, with her sweet gentleness, her tenderness, her endless giving. They were teenagers, and they’d thought it would last forever.

Perhaps it might have done if—

He shut off that thought too. Strong man though he was, the ‘what if?’ was unbearable.

But her ghost wouldn’t be banished. It whispered sadly that their brief love had been perfect, even though it had ended in heartbreak. She reminded him of other things too, how she’d lain in his arms, whispering words of love and passion.

“I’m yours, always—“

“I have nothing to offer you—“

“If you give me your love, that’s all I ask.”

“But I’m poor.”

How she had laughed at that, ripples of young, confident laughter that had filled his soul. “We’re not poor—as long as we have each other…”

And then it was over, and they no longer had each other.

Suddenly there was a squeal of tyr