The conglomerate, with its reach in electronics, hotels, insurance, and more, had devoured everything—her laughter, her identity, the very first breath of her life. Even her existence, her personality, her clothes, her school—everything had been meticulously curated by Hyunju to uphold the image of “Mare’s only daughter.”

[“Vice Chairwoman Go Hyunju, pregnant after infertility battle, donates 1 billion won to single mother centers to spread positivity.”]

The moment Hyunju and Jinwoong had conceived her, they had started making donations to various child-related organizations. It was all about branding—letting the world know how much they gave, polishing the company’s reputation.

And back then, no marketing strategy had been more effective than Seoyeon herself.

At that moment, Seoyeon had thought—if refusing to marry him meant that ledger would go public, then please, let it happen.

If it could destroy this rotten company, then let it be.

So she had looked at Hyunju and, barely suppressing a smirk, said—

“So this is finally the end for you, Mom. At last.”

But what had truly driven her to storm out of the car wasn’t the blackmail.

It was the next thing Hyunju had said.

“Seoyeon, would you rather go to prison?”

Hyunju’s blank expression had only lasted a moment. In an instant, she was back to her usual poised demeanor, speaking in that refined, intellectual tone.

Before Seoyeon could even process everything, another shocking statement followed—

“Do you even know how many offshore accounts are under your name?”

This—this was why blood ties were the scariest thing.

Hyunju laughed elegantly.

That was all she did—laugh.

“Consider yourself lucky. One marriage, and you get to avoid 30 years in prison.”

For embezzling her own parents’ company funds.

That was when Seoyeon bolted.

Hyunju’s laughter stretched in slow motion across her vision.

Like a skipping tape, those final words echoed endlessly in her mind.

The weight of impending doom clenched around her lungs with terrifying precision.

“Take care of things for me, at least until my election next year.”

Thud.

For the first time in her life, Seoyeon understood what it felt like for her heart to drop into the pit of her stomach.

“Ha.”

Standing by the road with her arm out, she ran a hand through her hair.

“You expect me to believe that?”

Then, she kicked off her high heels.

The cool evening breeze seeped through the thin fabric of her stockings.

Holding her silver heels in one hand, she reached into her pocket, pulled out the bridal veil, and hurled it toward the Han River.

Stocking-clad feet stepped onto the roadside without hesitation.

Her heart pounded wildly.

No way—no way.

Her mouth went dry.

“Ah, President! The Vice Chairwoman is currently at dinner—”

Seoyeon ignored Secretary Kim and marched straight to Hyunju’s office.

Luckily, Hyunju wasn’t back yet.

Without hesitation, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the spacious office.

Her heart, already racing since she stepped out of the car, pounded even harder the moment she stepped inside.

[Vice Chairwoman Go Hyunju]

Behind that nameplate, Seoyeon frantically yanked open drawer after drawer.

The clatter of the metal tracks filled the room, her ragged breaths blending into the sound.

Of course, there was no way Hyunju would store anything important here, but Seoyeon needed to see it for herself.

She needed proof that the ridiculous claims weren’t true—anything, even just a single piece of paper.

Her hands tore through the drawers, scattering their contents.

If her mother was telling the truth, then the moment that ledger was exposed, Seoyeon would become nothing more than a reckless thief who had stolen and squandered 20 years’ worth of her mother’s company’s money.

Yet despite everything—despite everything—she still instinctively thought of Hyunju as Mom.

She gave birth to me. There’s no way she’d go this far.

But that thought shattered within seconds.

…

Seoyeon froze.

Her fingers, which had been rifling through the drawer, suddenly stopped.

Her eyes landed on the lone tablet sitting on the desk.

The desk was spotless, devoid of a single document—except for that one tablet, standing upright as if it had been placed there deliberately.

The pitch-black screen felt ominous, as if something might leap out at any moment.

…

Her fingertip brushed against it.

The screen flickered to life.

Like night turning to day in an instant, the darkened tablet lit up—revealing a sight she was never meant to see.

[Escrow Account: Baek Seoyeon]

Her desperate gaze dropped to the line below.

[Current balance: $9,102,319]

A string of cryptic numbers. A cold chill sliced through her bones.

An amount she had never seen in her life was sitting in her account.

An account she hadn’t even known existed.

“Vice President, CEO Baek just entered your office.”

Secretary Kim had faithfully followed Hyunju’s orders—to leave the tablet displaying the account details, knowing full well that her daughter would storm into the office. Over the phone, Hyunju let out a slow, deep breath.

“Good work.”

She stood there for a long time, staring at the blackened remains of her own account.

That day, Seoyeon learned the truth—that her mother had long ago placed her name under the company’s financial department.

As soon as she stepped inside her house, she was greeted by a moving company worker, just finishing up with the last piece of furniture. The moving truck parked outside had already given her a clue, so she wasn’t too shocked. Not when her mind was still clouded by the lingering image of nine million dollars.

“Vice President’s orders. She said to clear everything out.”

The worker pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. Scrawled in slanted cursive was an address—some luxury residence in Hannam-dong. A place she had never seen before.

A piercing beep echoed in her skull.

Once the worker left with the last of her belongings, Seoyeon stood frozen in the empty house, staring into the dusty void of what used to be her living room.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Was this a dream?

She had been this close to breaking free from Mare Group. To opening an art gallery and pursuing her passion. To finally shedding the suffocating title of “only daughter” that had confined her since birth, treating her like nothing more than a prized possession.

But that fleeting dream had crumbled in an instant—all because of a single number staring back at her from a screen.

She had never been independent. Not really.

For a few moments, she couldn’t move.

Had she really just seen what she thought she had?

Compared to this, the arranged marriage and her mother’s threats were nothing.

Because now, in the eyes of the law—she was the one who had embezzled company funds.

There was no sign of forgery.

With trembling fingers, she tapped through the transaction history. It was filled with an endless list of transfers—millions siphoned away to unfamiliar companies and unknown accounts.

Not under Go Hyunju’s name.

But hers.

Her own mother had been laundering money through an account under her name for years.

Her phone buzzed.

[Congratulations on your wedding, my dear daughter.]

She opened a news portal.

Her bloodless fingers hovered over the screen as she read the headline.

[Mare Group’s only daughter, Baek Seoyeon, to marry CEO Woo Jaebin on September 21st… Fulfilling the late Chairman Baek Jinwoong’s wishes.]

The word marriage struck her again, right on top of that haunting nine-million-dollar figure.

Article after article scrolled past her screen, blurring together.

Her legs gave out.

She collapsed to the floor.

She had thought she no longer had tears left to cry over her parents using her as a tool. That she had already emptied out all her sorrow, rage, and grief as a child.

She had been wrong.

“Ah…”

Thick tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks before she even realized it. A sharp dizziness took over. Her fingers turned numb, growing unbearably heavy.

With trembling hands, she clutched at her hair.

Her vision swayed.

A foreign, gut-wrenching emotion crashed over her, consuming her whole.

“Ugh… Ah…”

Her fingers dug into her chest.

The unknown account, the nine million dollars, her mother’s betrayal, the forced marriage—all of it surrounded her, choking her like a vice.

Tears streamed down uncontrollably as her body crumpled to the ground.

[Congratulations on your wedding, my dear daughter.]

Hyunju’s message blurred beneath the wet sheen of her tears.

Her breath hitched. Then, in the next second—her bloodshot eyes snapped open.

Her phone vibrated.

She had cried herself to sleep.

This time, it was a call.

“Is this Baek Seoyeon?”

Seoyeon stared blankly at the unfamiliar voice.

“We’re outside your residence.”

Silence.

“We’ve come to escort you.”

Her parched lips remained still.

The unfamiliar voice seemed to wait for a response before eventually hanging up.

Her mind—shattered like the aftermath of an explosion—couldn’t hold onto a single word, a single sentence spoken by the stranger.

As if sensing her dazed state—

Click.

Someone was entering a passcode.

No one else knew the code to her home. No one was supposed to.

And yet, someone was keying it in.

Even so, Seoyeon didn’t move.

The front door creaked open. A pair of unfamiliar shoes clicked against the floor, the light from the entrance sensor casting a glow over stocking-clad feet, dust and dirt clinging to the fabric.

A stranger.

No.

A villain.

Jaebin silently took in the sight before him—Seoyeon, collapsed on the floor of an empty house.

The sedan sped down the darkened road.

Flashes of neon lights from the bustling city flickered across Seoyeon’s face as she gazed out the window.

When she had opened her eyes, she found herself in his car—the man who had proposed to her without a shred of emotion.

“Get in.”

She had resisted the hand of Jaebin’s secretary as he tried to help her into the back seat.

Even with her drained body, she fought against the grasp pulling her in—because it felt like she was being sold off.

But then, Jaebin spoke.

“Unless you’d rather rot in prison.”

And just like that, she had no choice.

“Go on. Say something.”

After a long, cold silence, Seoyeon’s lips finally parted.

“That incredible contract, negotiated without the bride even present.”

Her gaze met Jaebin’s, unwavering and sharp—no trace of the tears she had shed just moments ago.

She had to survive now.

Survive, escape, and sever all ties with the woman she had once called “mother.”

Seoyeon stared down at the crumpled note the moving company worker had given her.

The unfamiliar address—neatly written despite the creases—wavered in the dim glow of the city lights.

She didn’t need to ask to know exactly where this car was headed.

“What do you really want?”

She tore the note into pieces and let them fall. Her voice, low and steady, filled the back seat.

“What is it that you gain from this ridiculous marriage?”

No matter how she looked at it, none of this made sense.