The first time I met Park Jae Hwa, CEO of ParkWay Construction Industries, we were in a lonely, sterile, hospital room. Mr. Park came in with 4 people. Two of them, I would later learn, were close associates; the other two were body guards. I was playing with Ji Yung when her father arrived to meet us. He calmly walked in the door, in what I can only describe as a regal manner. He was tall, very well dressed, and by all means an impressive, and almost intimidating sight. His dark hair and medium skin complexion complimented his expensive suit and shoes. His posture was impeccable, and his mannerisms were reserved and a little cold. He didn’t call out his daughter’s name, as you would expect a typical concerned father to do; he just knelt down, looked at her for a moment, casually checked to see if she had any injuries, and then stood up.

     “Mr. Kim Hyun Ki?” he called out. A distinguished looking individual, with light grey hair, glasses, and a black and white suit stepped forward. “Yes sir?” He asked respectfully.  Mr. Park said something in Korean; I heard Ji Yung’s name, but for the most part, it was something I couldn’t make out. Something I’m probably sure I didn’t want to know or understand. Hyun Ki, then picked up Ji Yung—something I would have expected her father to do—and started to take her out of the room…presumably home.

     At this point, I don’t remember specifically what I was thinking, I was probably reminiscing the moments I’d spent with this little girl. Even though we couldn’t have a “typical” conversation, we bonded. I did jump in front of a car for her, after all….and I wanted to know she would be okay; that she would be taken care of appropriately…but most importantly that she would be loved.

     Before Mr. Kim could her out, I spoke up:

     “Please, sir! Can I just say goodbye?” Mr. Park looked at me curiously, and intent on ignoring my request, motioned for Mr. Park to continue on his way out. In a flash, though, Ji Yung, slyly wrestled her way of Mr. Kim’s arm and she came running for me. She gave me a hug, smiled at me, and then happily skipped off, grabbing Mr. Kim’s hand on the way out of the door. Obviously, this was her family. Obviously these people cared for her and she was comfortable with them, but…

      Why did it feel like I was leaving her with strangers?

     With Ji Yung’s departure, the atmosphere in the room, took on a more serious feel. Almost immediately, Mr. Park approached me and stiffly bowed down in front of me. I tried to stand up to greet him as well, but my body, still sore, and aching from my injuries would not allow me. Mr. Park nodded in understanding, and then pulled out a small booklet from the pocket inside his coat. He pulled out a piece of paper and then began to speak in English.

     “The hospital staff tells me that you found Ji Yung and shielded her from being hit by a car.”

     It sounded like a blank statement; there was little inflection in his voice or emotion to be found in his expression.  In the tone of his voice, I would have expected him to make a remark about the weather, or the size of the hospital room. I mean, I could understand being reserved, but his child was LOST. And I know that feeling better than anyone, so it felt a little insulting that he would remark on this incident so coldly, without the slightest hint of concern or gratitude for the outcome of it all.

     I smiled, attempting to be understanding of cultural differences, and also wanted reassure him that I was very glad to help….but before I could say anything, he extended his arm with the piece of paper and blankly said:

     “Of course you understand my concerns in this situation. Your friend Chanelle explained that you haven’t been in Korea long, but I can’t take any risks with my family. I have already taken the liberty of paying your hospital bills, and this should cover the rest of your medical expenses and a little more as well.”

     Remember when I said earlier that I don’t have a short temper…just a selective one? Well. This was yet another instance in which it attempted to rear its impetuous, politically incorrect head.

     Mr. Park continued….”I’ll just need to you sign this contract stating that you’ll refrain from speaking to anyone about this incident…even to those already involved, as well as to media outlets such as newspapers, blogs,  TV stations….”

     By the time he got to the part about the contract, I’m pretty sure I forgot several things. The first of which were manners and cultural understandings of respect. The second, was the fact that I had a broken collar bone, and the third was that I was actually talking to one of the richest men in Korea.

     But, when he standing there asking ME. ME—Kara Marie Andrews—to accept money to protect HIS name when I had saved his daughter’s life not even a week ago, well, it pissed me the hell off.   Like a mother bear protecting it’s cub, I stood up from my wheelchair, forcefully grabbing the check from his hand.

     I raised my voice and tilted my head, ignoring the ridiculous amount of pain I felt when I stood up.  Mr. Park didn’t even move. He didn’t flinch or wink. “This guy really thinks he’s a god or something…” I remember thinking to myself.

“Look, Mr. Park I know you’re a very busy man---“

     He interrupted me: “Then you’ll understand why I need to you go ahead and sign the contract, and do what you will with the check. With all do respect, I’ve got no time for you to be offended, Ms. Andrews.”

     I sat back down in my wheelchair and scoffed at him as he looked down on me—both literally and not so literally... I grabbed the pen from him and signed the contract, and then tore the check up in front of him…aiming for some kind of response….

…but I got nothing.

    Mr. Park, put his jacket back on and walked out of the door as coolly as he had walked in, with his body guards in tow.

And I sat in that sterile and lonely hospital room by myself with the contract I had just signed.  How could a man that knew nothing about me make me feel so small? I hadn’t expected a parade from him, but he didn’t even say “thank you.” Nothing in his mannerisms even remotely indicated he was appreciative of what I’d done. I had put myself; my own life in danger to save his daughter, that I couldn’t even speak about anymore…that I had to pretend like I didn’t even know…that I would most likely, never see again.

Mr. Park was gone. Ji Yung was gone. My collar bone was sore from the exertion I made earlier, and my world seemed darker than ever before.

In frustration, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness I just started sobbing.  

The first time I met Park Jae Hwa, CEO of ParkWay Construction Industries, he came in with 4 people and left with one more.

Oh, and he made me cry.