You didn’t get to have that insightful dinner with Mr. Martin. Junko insisted on leaving for Korea right away and the jet was ready to go before the sun began to set on the horizon. Less than twenty-four hours you’d spent in the one place you could have really been able to know your parents, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be sorry about it. Hopefully, you’d have another chance in the future. If not, then that was just your fate.

Over and over, your father’s words echoed in your mind. The way his eyes softened when he told you that he loved you, that you were the most precious thing in the world to him. If anyone else had told you that he’d said that, you would have laughed in their face. There was no fathomable reason he would feel that way about you.

And yet, you’d judged the man too quickly. You’d made assumptions about someone that you never knew, who worked so hard to bring you into this world. The only way you could right your thoughts and make it up to him was by fulfilling his last request: to not let Junko get ahold of the files.

Right now, as you pretended to be asleep, Junko was pouring himself over the fake files by the dim overhead light from the jet’s ceiling, ignoring the beautiful sight of the darkened sea below. He took in every word like it was the holy script, murmuring unintelligibly to himself, marking certain key phrases and paragraphs with a red pen. Eventually, you drifted off to the sound of fluttering paper.

You were awoken rather roughly when the plane landed back home over fourteen hours later. There was no gentleness as the bodyguards escorted you off the plane and into the waiting car. Junko said nothing to you, simply rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Apparently, he hadn’t gone to sleep at all, too obsessed with memorizing the details of the files that were now locked safely away in the briefcase by his feet to bother with the important human function. It may be a little petty, but you thought the least you deserved was a “thank you”. Threat or no threat, you still got him what he wanted. A little appreciation would have been nice.

You scoffed at yourself internally. There you were, pouting about not being thanked when you were planning on sabotaging him.

After you arrived back at the mansion, Junko split off from you, heading in the opposite direction of the bedroom on the second floor, briefcase in hand. Shaking your head, you kept on until you reached the bed. You collapsed on top of the covers, barely putting in the effort to remove your shoes before falling asleep once again.

**

You hardly saw Junko over the course of the next few days. The few glimpses of him you did get were just in passing, making him seem like a ghost haunting the hallways that you could only glimpse at from the corner of your eye. In a way, you were overly relieved that he was spending so much of his time absorbing the files in what room you could only guess was his study. You never woke up to him next to you in the bed again. If he was sleeping there beside you during some point in the night, at least you were never aware of it.

Even though you hardly saw Junko, his presence, the fact that he was still near, was always constant. The flash drive had stayed hidden in your purse. You’d through about putting the purse away, but thought better of it. If it was discovered, someone would be extremely curious as to why it was being hidden and most likely would go through it, ruining your golden hand.

Granted, having the flash drive was only part of the lineup. You needed to somehow get the drive to Junmyeon. But you were locked up in this stupid mansion, eyes watching you whether they were obvious or not. Servants and guards were constantly in passing by or glancing your way, taking in every move you made. Reflecting suspicion would be hard enough given your lack of poker face without you also trying to play super spy.

This morning at breakfast, however, you might have been given your chance.

“Junko wanted me to inform you that he’ll be out of the house most of the day, but will join you for dinner tonight.”

Looking up from your breakfast, you noticed Quan – one of Junko’s favorite guards – standing at the other end of the table. While he may have been high on Junko’s list of trusted associates, he had been a bit kinder to you than the others. Sure, that margin of kindness was slim, but a little could go a long way in your book.

You nodded. “Thank you, Quan.”

He bowed his head and left the dining hall.

The wheels in your head began to turn as you forced yourself to slowly finish up your breakfast. Scarfing it down might raise the alarms, sentencing you to your room before you’d gotten your chance. A weight was now gone, giving you a lighter feel as you thought about your next course of action. During the day, you’d usually waste away in front of the TV or walk around the pool in a pathetic attempt at some exercise. But now you could explore. Not out of wonder, but in order to find a possible computer or office where you could think of your next step. Getting in touch with Junmyeon might still be difficult, but you had to try.

Plate finally empty, you rose from your chair, and left the dining hall, a maid servant rushing behind you to clear the away the mess. Back in your room, you dug through your purse, fighting the urge to look over your shoulder every five seconds. With the flash drive now in your hand, you flipped it over continuously, contemplating where to hide it. Then you put it in the one place you knew you could get away with. The plastic poked at your skin, but it was perfectly hidden under your loose blouse, held in place by the cup of your bra. You cringed a little at the fact that you’d slipped it in there rather than your pocket, but you needed it in a place that couldn’t be seen even just by a glance.

You knew your time was limited. However, you still had to take it slow. Hightailing it straight to the study would get you in hot water. So, instead, you wandered the halls, poking your head into different rooms, pretending to just be exploring and familiarizing yourself with the house. You did this for about an hour or so, nodding to the maids as you passed them by, even stopping by the kitchen for a quick snack. Then, you gave in.

The door to the study squeaked as you slowly pushed it open, the hinges crying out desperately to be oiled back to perfection. Your heart was holding onto all your nervousness, releasing it only enough to pound in your ears. As quietly as you could, you walked across the thick carpet towards the imposing desk. No personal items decorated the area, making it seem more like a display at a furniture store or showroom rather than the office of a mafia leader who was proud of his family.

Slowly, you lowered yourself into the leather chair and turned to face the computer. Your jaw dropped.

The screen was open to the desktop, no locks or screensavers to prevent any unwanted eyes from skimming through its secrets. Was this a trap? Would Junko really leave himself vulnerable like this? He had to have turned off the sleep mode in order for it to still be up like this. Or the computer was recently used within the last fifteen minutes. But who else would have been in here?

You pushed the thought away. Right now, you needed to focus on sending the files to Junmyeon. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to do that. There had to be some way to send it to his phone using only his number, right? Thank goodness you’d taken the time to memorize his number in case of emergencies.

You started to click on the internet icon to try and find a way to do that when a folder caught your eye labeled with your last name. Logic would have told you to hurry and find how to send the information to Junmyeon and then click on the folder. But logic hadn’t driven your actions for a long time.

Double clicking to open the folder, you were met with rows and rows of saved emails, screenshots, and even a few voice files, presumably from phone calls with your father. You clicked on one of the emails lower on the list, dated a few months before your parents’ death. Skimming over the paragraphs, you concluded that your father was wanting to back out on his deal with Junko’s father involving you marrying his son.

She’s my little girl, Lee. I watch her grow every day. I want her to live life the way she chooses. If she chooses Junko on her own, for good reasons, then I’ll let her go. But I prefer for her not to be involved in this life. When I look at her, I see all the possibilities, all the paths she could go down. I can’t limit her to a life of standing next to your son, surrounded by bodyguards and never able to go about how she pleases. That’s not a life. So, please, reconsider. I’m begging you.

Underneath that was simple, one sentence reply.

Deals are meant to be kept or there will be consequences.

Your father was one hundred percent right to be weary of the Lees. There was no doubt that Junko’s father meant his little warning.

That should have been where you stopped. That should have been where you closed the file and found a way to Junmyeon’s phone. But you didn’t. Because at the very bottom, the very last little square had that telltale triangle in the corner. What footage was being held behind that icon?

The curiosity was too strong to fight and you opened the file. It gave you one last chance to turn around, but you clicked play anyway.

Before you on the screen was footage from an old surveillance camera pointed at an intersection. Everything was fuzzy and age showed through the simple black and white images, but you could still recognize your parents standing under the streetlamp, waiting for the crosswalk signal to turn and allow them to continue on their way. It was dark, late at night, like the night your parents died.

As soon as the walking man was glowing, your father started to walk your mother across the way. Out the bottom of the screen, a black car zoomed into frame, striking your parents down and hitting them hard enough to send them flying back several feet. You gasped at the impact, trying to quiet the noise with your hand as you watched in horror.

After coming to a stop, the man in the car stepped out, walking casually over to your parents and checking each of their necks for a pulse. Satisfied with his work, he turned, waved at the camera and drove away scot-free.

They were murdered. Just like your father had assumed in his video. There never was a drunk driver who got scared and ran away. It was all deliberate. The man who you were now forced to live with was the son of the man who took your family away. Was that your curse? To constantly have your family, your safe space taken away from you by the Lee’s? Would you ever truly be free of them?

“All choices have consequences. Some a little harsher than others.”

You gasped and turned in the seat.

Junko was leaning up against the opened door, inspecting his fingernails. How did you not hear that squeaky door with his arrival?

“Your father was warned about what would happen if he went back on the deal,” Junko said, as if he were talking about a child being scolded for stealing a cookie from the forbidden jar. “He made his choice.”

“I am not a piece of property to be bargained with,” you spat. “And your father was a monster that-”

Junko charged forward, pushing your chair back until he hovered over you, a hand on each armrest to lock you in. Fear pulsed through you as his eyes bore down into yours. They were filled with fire and if you weren’t careful, you were going to burn up into ash.

Through clenched teeth, he hissed, “You don’t know anything about my father. He is the only reason that you even exist. Maybe you should learn from your father’s mistakes and be grateful for that fact.” Straightening up, he exited out of the folder and sighed. “Too bad you couldn’t pass my little test. Now you’ll have someone with you at all times. Especially at the party tomorrow night.”

“Party?” you gaped at him. “What party?”

“Oh, just a little function for the different families. A place for business deals and negotiations. I’ll have a dress and shoes for you tomorrow afternoon that I expect you to wear. Until then, perhaps you should just stay in our room, hm?” He headed out for the door, stopping just before the hallway to throw over his shoulder, “And remember: you’re never fully dressed without a smile.”

**

Junko kept his promise to keep you locked up in his room. Breakfast and lunch were brought to you on a trays, though you couldn’t really bring yourself to eat much of either meal. Your brain was too focused on what Junko had said. This party was supposed to be for the “families”. Being well versed in their lingo by now, you knew he was talking about the different mafia groups.

Which meant Junmyeon might be there.

Junko had warned that a guard would be on you at all times, but if the venue was crowded enough, you were sure you could manage to get away. The real trick would be getting the flash drive to the party in the first place.

When the dress and shoes arrived around one o’clock, you started to sweat. It was very much a dress meant to show you off, like a freaking trophy. Its golden chiffon cloth was shaped to cling to your every curve, the back fully exposed, the thinnest of straps holding it all together. You were already dreading having to wear it. But a little relief was granted when the maid said that the hair dresser wouldn’t be around for another few hours, giving you some more time to prepare.

There was nowhere in the dress for you to even think about hiding the drive. Your saving grace, however, was the shoes. Rather than the stick thin heels you’d been expecting, the dress came with a golden wedges. An idea that definitely was stolen from too many spy movies formulated in your head. Taking one of the heels, you shut yourself in the bathroom, searching for your razor. It was a struggle to break the plastic apart without cutting yourself, but eventually you got the blades free and turned to the shoe.

Slowly, you cut away at the bottom of the shoe, over and over again in a rough rectangle big enough to hold the drive in place. Soon enough, you were able to break through into the hollow space. Perfect.

Now rummaging through the cabinet under the sink, you pulled out the one box you were sure no one would ever think to look in. Before you moved in, a maid must have remembered that you would need certain products and had them stocked in the bathroom for you. While you hadn’t needed to open the box for that specific bodily function yet, you did find it handy in hiding the flash drive. It was an easy switch from the box to the wedge and the bottom was staying securely in place.

You barely made it back in time to pretend that you were just looking at the shoe when the hairdresser and her assistant – the same ones from your wedding day – entered the room without even knocking. You obeyed each request they had, closing your eyes when they asked, stopping your fidgeting when it became too much. Before you knew it, the torture was over.

Junko simply gave you a once over as you descended the stairs, approving with a curt nod before lending you his arm and escorting you to the car waiting outside. Apparently, the idea of being a happy couple in love – or maybe you just being a submissive wife – was beginning to fade from Junko’s mind. Or maybe he just had other more important things on his mind. Either way, you were happy as he left you alone to your own thoughts on the ride to the venue.

Secrecy was not a priority this time around from what you gathered.

The “party” was being held in one of the grand hotels of the city, valets waiting patiently outside to direct the drivers on where to park the cars while the guests were let out right in front of the grand stairs. Junko was quick to jump out of the car, rounding it to help you out as well. Neither of you smiled or acknowledged any other patrons as you ascended the stairs and entered the hotel.

The ballroom occupied the entire twelfth floor, even sporting balconies on each side. Over a hundred people were already milling about the space, chatting and sizing each other up in small gatherings as they sipped at the drinks in their hands. Junko dragged you from group to group, introducing you as his wife and smirking when someone recognized your name. Yes, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, but if you had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t have much to brag about for too much longer.

While Junko was feigning laughter at an older gentleman’s terrible joke, your eyes were scanning the crowds, searching desperately for Junmyeon. Then your heart sped up.

Towering over a majority of the crowd was a familiar crop of firetruck red hair.

Chanyeol!

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming out for the gentle giant who’d promised to keep you safe. As much as you wanted it, him marching over here and snatching you away wasn’t the brightest move. Besides, you wanted – no, you needed to see Junmyeon.

One by one, shuffling through the crowd, you saw each of the boys, save their leader. None of them were talking or laughing with the other families. They seemed more like zombies, just wandering the floor, careful not to bump into anyone. Where was-

There!

You barely caught a glimpse of Junmyeon sneaking out onto the left side balcony. You needed to get to him, but how did you lose the guard whose eyes were glued to the back of your head?

Cradling your lower stomach, you scrunched your face up as if you were in pain. “Junko,” you whispered, adding a groan into your tone. “I don’t feel well.”

“You’re not going home,” he hissed quietly, still maintaining the welcoming smile on his face.

“Just five minutes in the bathroom,” you pleaded.

His eyes flickered to one of the guards and then he nodded. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Quan ended up being the one to follow you to the bathroom. Any warm feelings you’d had towards him were long gone after he lied to you about Junko being out of the house. But you didn’t run away from him, keeping close until you reached the women’s restroom. It was located in a small enclave near the back of the ballroom, out of the way and easily hidden. You watched Quan back up so he wasn’t blocking the narrow entrance from others who wished to use the wash rooms before pushing open the door.

Once alone, you didn’t know what to do from there. You needed to hurry before Junmyeon left the balcony and your chance was missed. Then your opportunity came in the form a group of women who all entered the bathroom at the same time, laughing about their wonderful luck in dates tonight. You stepped out of the way as they took over the mirror space, primping and fixing their hair and makeup, which wasn’t out of place to begin with from what you could tell.

When they were done, you made your move.

Crowding in as closely as you could to them, you tried to blend in and go unseen as you all exited the bathroom. Walking past Quan without your name being called or pulled out of the group seemed to mean that it worked.

Once you were far enough away from the restrooms, you split off from the group, squeezing through to the other side of the crowd until you reached the same door that Junmyeon had passed through. He was still there on that balcony, leaning his forearms against the railing as his head hung low from his shoulders.

“Junmyeon!” You couldn’t stop yourself from running towards him. At the sound of his name, he turned around, shock dropping his jaw and widening his eyes as you threw your arms around him and buried your face in his chest. But while you held your vice tight around him, he never lifted his arms to hug you back. Looking up at him, you frowned. “Junmyeon?”

Composing his face and releasing a heavy sigh, Junmyeon gripped your arms and gently pushed you away. “What are you doing here, (y/n)?”

You pulled your eyebrows together, unable to understand why he was acting this way. “Junko brought me, probably to-”

“I didn’t mean here at the hotel,” he interrupted. “I meant out here? You should be inside with your husband. He wouldn’t want other people to talk.”

Was that what this was? An attempt to avoid arousing attention. Shaking your head, you took off your wedged heel and pulled out the homemade compartment. “Listen. My father put the real files on this drive. He had fake files made, the ones I gave to Junko. You can take this drive while Junko thinks he has the real ones. That should give you plenty of time.” You held out the small plastic device for him to take, but he didn’t.

His eyes were down on your open palm, his face unreadable. When he finally met your own gaze, he said, “Go back inside, (y/n). Junko will come looking for you soon.”

You dropped your hand to your side. How could he act so distant all of a sudden? “What is going on with you? I’m trying to give you what you’ve wanted this whole time. To help you. Did he… do something to you?”

“A man recognizes when he’s lost, (y/n).”

“You haven’t lost!” you yelled. “Why are you giving up?”

“Because he knows it’s useless.” Junko walked up behind you, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. With his other hand, he forced your fist open and took the drive, giving you a kiss on the cheek before putting it away in his pocket.

Junmyeon stayed stone face through the whole thing. “Congratulations, Junko.”

“Just like school, Junmyeon,” Junko purred. “Some things never change. I’m glad to know you’ve finally learned that.”

Taking a few steps forward so he was now nearly shoulder to shoulder with you, Junmyeon whispered, “Just accept the hand you’ve been dealt. Perhaps, it was always meant to go this way.” Leaving you with that, he walked back inside.

You tried to turn around to go after him, but Junko kept you firmly by his side.

“Quan?” he called out. “Take (y/n) home. I think everyone here is now fully aware of the power I hold.”

With a tight grip on your arm, Quan pulled you away and back into the ballroom. He didn’t glance at you once as he all but dragged you out of the hotel. You huffed when he put you in the back seat of the car, crossing your arms.

You were so confused. What happened to all those promises to protect you? To always come for you when you called out to him? Were they really all so empty? Were they the true definition of sweet nothings? You’d put so much faith in him, relied on the fact that you thought he would come to your rescue. Never would you have imagined that he would just stare at the physical manifestation of his ultimate goal. The goal he’d originally took you in for. How could he let it go so easily? How could he let you go without so much as a fight?

As soon as you were alone in your room, you shuffled over to the window, still in a daze. The moon shined down from the cloudless sky, giving you enough light to see by. You fell down to your knees, staying like that for a second before shifting back so you could bring your knees up to your chest.

And I promise you this: whenever you ask for me, I’ll be there.

You scoffed. “You’re a liar, Kim Junmyeon.”

The tears began to flow down your face and you didn’t bother to try and stop them. Instead, burying your face in your knees while the world that you thought you knew came crashing down around you.