TWB CH 03

Chapter 3

Two years ago, it was because of him that Taekyung was able to secure the redevelopment rights to a prime piece of land in Gangnam, a fiercely contested project that would be talked about for generations to come.

Regarding the marriage between him and Seol-ah, some people tried to understand the situation by quoting a line from the Myeongsimbogam: “A daughter should be married into a better family, while a daughter-in-law should be brought from a less prestigious one.”

But the truth was that long before the redevelopment approval was granted, Samdong had fortunately come to own a fairly large commercial property.

In exchange for transferring that land to Taekyung, Gicheol had proposed a marriage between Moon-hyuk and one of his daughters.

Of course, the daughter he had originally intended was not Seol-ah.

It was Se-eun.

But Se-eun had completely failed to understand her father’s intentions.

Right before the wedding, she had fallen for a man’s sweet words and seductive bedroom skills and eventually ran away with a worthless man.

Because of that, Seol-ah, who had only just graduated from university, ended up marrying Moon-hyuk in Se-eun’s place.

And that was how her life with Moon-hyuk began.

They say a daughter often inherits her mother’s fate.

“Ms. Yeo Seol-ah? I’m Cha Moon-hyuk.”

It was an occasion she had attended only because she had no choice.

The moment Moon-hyuk spoke to her in an incredibly attractive, deep voice, the world seemed to shake with a thud, and her breath caught.

Under the sunlight slanting down from above, Moon-hyuk seemed to glow golden.

It felt as though the very air around him was different.

She became intoxicated by his subtle woody scent, lost herself in his perfectly sculpted handsome face, and had her soul stolen by his cool yet refined aura.

For the first time, she understood her mother.

She finally understood how her mother could have fallen for her father at first sight and then loved him so deeply.

Seol-ah fell in love with him too.

Like a moth flying instinctively toward a flame without knowing it would die, she instinctively took him into her heart and ended up loving him.

But that love was an empty echo.

Just like her mother.

Even though their marriage had been arranged, Seol-ah was an unwanted daughter-in-law.

She spent day after day practically confined to a separate residence.

Even so, she endured everything simply because it meant she could remain by Moon-hyuk’s side.

And then, in the second year of their marriage, a phone call came.

The news about her mother.

“Mom! Mom!”

Clutching only her phone tightly in her hand, she rushed out in a panic, desperately calling for her mother.

Just a few days earlier, her mother had seemed surprisingly energetic, unlike usual.

Seol-ah had been so happy, thinking that perhaps her condition was finally improving.

But now she was rushing to the hospital in a daze, tears pouring endlessly down her face.

Only after she came to her senses did she realize that she was wearing two completely different shoes.

In such a state, could she really have remembered to notify her in-laws?

Even so, the news of her mother-in-law’s death must have reached Taekyung.

Yet they had not even called once.

But Seol-ah did not even realize that.

Then, suddenly—

I have to tell him.

Only belatedly did she remember.

With trembling hands, she tried to call Moon-hyuk, who was on a business trip in Saudi Arabia.

But her phone kept slipping from her hands and falling to the ground, forcing her to pick it up again and again.

At that moment, a call came in.

It was from Jihyun, a woman from a family whose status could not even be compared to Seol-ah’s, and whose family was every bit as prestigious as Taekyung.

Jihyun spoke.

“Dongseo, I know you’re disappointed, but please understand. They say you’re not supposed to attend a funeral right before a memorial rite. And it’s not just anyone’s memorial rite. It’s Grandfather’s death anniversary.”

Ah.

The memorial rite.

The death anniversary of Taekyung’s founder, Grandfather.

That was when Seol-ah learned for the first time that immediate family members who personally prepared for a memorial rite did not attend funerals beforehand.

Even when the deceased was their in-law.

Jihyun continued over the phone.

“You know our family is very conservative, Dongseo.”

The way she said it sounded almost as if she were asking whether Seol-ah had married into the family without knowing that.

Seol-ah let out a hollow little laugh.

She knew.

How could she not?

Taekyung was practically unmatched when it came to being conservative.

In terms of ability, appearance, and even physical health, Moon-hyuk was superior to his older brother Eun-hyuk in every way.

But Taekyung strictly followed the principle that the eldest son would inherit the family.

If Eun-hyuk had not died in a car accident one year earlier, there was absolutely no chance that the second son, Moon-hyuk, would have become the heir.

If Gicheol had known that Moon-hyuk would one day succeed his father, he would never have made Samdong in-laws with Taekyung, no matter how much more than the commercial property Taekyung demanded.

That was the kind of family they were.

Of course, their own ancestral rite would be more important to them than attending the funeral of an in-law.

All strength left Seol-ah’s body.

Her desire to contact Moon-hyuk faded completely.

In its place, a bitter sense of resentment began to fill her heart.

Even if I am a daughter-in-law they don’t care about, someone’s mother died…

Once the funeral hall was prepared, Kang Kyung-ho, Chief Secretary and Chairman Cha’s right-hand man, arrived with several employees as though he had been waiting for the funeral to be ready.

He brought condolence money and delivered a message.

“Please accept our deepest condolences. The Chairman asked me to convey his apologies for being unable to attend.”

After delivering Chairman Cha’s message, the secretary immediately left, as if he had finished everything he had come to do.

Once again, Seol-ah was reminded of exactly where she stood in that family.

You could have called just once.

You could have asked whether your wife’s mother passed away peacefully. How difficult could it have been to say just that one sentence?

Her resentment only piled more resentment on top of itself.

But when she heard the amount of condolence money they had sent, something beyond anger came crashing down on her.

It was an enormous amount of money.

The excessive sum felt like nothing more than a pitiful handout.

At the same time, it seemed to say:

This is more than enough money for someone like you, so don’t complain and keep your mouth shut.

That was all her mother’s death meant to them.

So even though the news of his mother-in-law’s death had reached him, her husband would not come.

After all, he had deliberately scheduled this important business trip so that he could return to Korea in time for the memorial rite.

Would a man like him come to mourn the death of the mother of a wife he did not even love?

Especially if doing so meant going against his family’s wishes?

Grief and humiliation swept over Seol-ah.

For the first time, resentment toward her husband became tangled together with everything else inside her.

Soon, that resentment almost turned into a deep grudge born from wounded pride.

But it lasted only for a moment.

A feeling that was far too familiar swallowed Seol-ah whole.

Resignation.

And after that came self-blame, the feeling that perhaps all of this had happened because she herself was simply inadequate.

All the strength drained from her.

Her heart collapsed in an instant, like a sandcastle falling apart.

Seol-ah looked at Gicheol, whose neck was red with anger and whose veins stood out.

This man will never understand.

He will never know what I was feeling when I chose not to contact him.

But the reason I’m not telling you that he won’t come is because I want you to wait too, just like Mom did.

It was a small revenge for her mother.

Seol-ah’s dark eyes moved toward Se-eun.

Seeing Se-eun standing beside Gicheol with a smug expression, the corners of her lips raised as though she were enjoying the situation, Seol-ah let out a hollow laugh.

That’s right. You should have married him instead.

Who knows? Maybe you would have been loved.

But perhaps Se-eun interpreted Seol-ah’s empty laugh as mockery.

As if she had suffered an enormous insult, Se-eun’s brows instantly twisted into deep wrinkles.

Her smooth, glossy lips parted as well.

“What was that laugh? You?”

At Se-eun’s sharp voice, Gicheol immediately joined in.

“Seol-ah, you! What did you do to your sister?”

As always, Gicheol did not bother asking what had happened or hearing both sides.

He immediately took Se-eun’s side, glaring at Seol-ah with wide eyes and clenched lips.

But then something strange happened.

The daughter who should have lowered her head in fear was instead looking straight into his eyes.

Gicheol’s eyes widened.

But soon—

“Tsk. Where do you think you’re looking with those eyes?”

Gicheol’s neck veins bulged red as he stepped toward Seol-ah threateningly.

That was when it happened.

A small commotion could be heard outside.

Then, somehow, the flow of the air seemed to change.

Along with a strange sensation creeping across her skin, every nerve in Seol-ah’s body sharpened and turned toward the outside.

Thump, thump.

Her heart began racing.

The fine hairs at the back of her neck stood on end.

It felt as though a massive storm were slowly approaching.

Apparently, Seol-ah wasn’t the only one who felt it.

Gicheol stopped moving.

He, too, quietly held his breath.

Could it be…?

Seol-ah’s dark eyes turned toward the outside as if being pulled there.

Gicheol and Se-eun did the same.

Every nerve in the room suddenly became tense, focused on the outside.

The world was so quiet that even the sound of a needle dropping could have been heard.

Only the loud pounding of their hearts filled the silence.

And then, in that place where the entire world seemed to hold its breath—

Step. Step.

The sound of polished shoes approaching in a steady, perfectly measured rhythm could be heard.

The closer the footsteps came, and the louder they became, the more dangerously Seol-ah’s eyes trembled.

Her nerves tightened even further.

Finally, a group of men dressed in black entered her field of vision.

And among them was Cha Moon-hyuk.

He was wearing a luxurious black suit that he had clearly changed into at the airport, a shirt as white as snow, and a pitch-black tie.

The moment Seol-ah saw him—

Thump.

Her heart stopped.

How…?

Seol-ah stared at Moon-hyuk with wide, astonished eyes.

And then his deep, gentle eyes met hers, cold and unwavering.