In the president's office, Enrique stood silently in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the miniature city bathed in sunlight.
His dark eyes were deep and unreadable, and his thin lips were pressed into a cold line. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the swirling smoke casting a lonely, detached aura around him.
Knock knock knock!
The crisp knock on the door broke the silence, causing his brows to furrow slightly before relaxing.
"Come in."
His voice was low, with a faint hoarseness.
He turned and walked to his desk, extinguishing the cigarette in the ashtray.
As soon as Sana opened the door, she saw the familiar profile that had once captivated her. For a moment, she was dazed, just like the first time she had seen him.
All the words she had prepared suddenly caught in her throat. She couldn't say a thing.
After a long silence, when he still heard nothing, Enrique looked up, his dark gaze falling on the woman standing at the door. His expression was indifferent, as if unsurprised.
In truth, he had known the moment she entered the Kim Group building.
But when his eyes met hers—eyes filled with past memories—his gaze turned even colder, tinged with clarity and detachment.
The office was still, but Sana's heart shattered like glass at the look in his eyes.
She should have known.
She bit her lip and clutched her bag tighter, taking a deep breath. "Enrique, let's talk."
"Anything but divorce, Mrs. Kim."
His voice was as calm and indifferent as ever.
That emotionless "Mrs. Kim" struck her like a whip.
Mrs. Kim?
What a cruel joke.
He had destroyed her family, driven away her friends and loved ones, and now he could still sit there and calmly call her Mrs. Kim.
She no longer wanted that title.
She had once been proud of it. Now, it felt humiliating, suffocating.
She hated him. But she hated herself even more.
If she hadn't been so stubborn back then, how could things have turned out like this?
It was all her fault.
"What if I offer 30% of the Kim Group shares in my name?" Sana took a step forward, her gaze locked onto him with surprising intensity.
Enrique's eyes narrowed slightly. He paused, then looked up from his documents. His expression was cold as he replied, "Do you think Enrique's wife is something you can claim when you want and discard when you don't? Or do you believe Enrique's wife can be traded for shares?"
Meeting her persistent gaze, he pressed his lips together, pulled out a document, and pushed it toward her. His voice dropped another degree. "If you don't understand what 30% of Kim Group's shares represent, feel free to read this before making such decisions."
She glanced at the document that his bony fingers had slid forward—but showed no interest in it. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on the man behind the desk.
"What do you want in exchange for a divorce?" she asked, almost through gritted teeth.
She was seething with rage, yet there was nowhere to direct it. The man in front of her remained cold and detached, giving her no opening. So all her fury burned silently inside her, consuming her heart.
"Divorce?"
Enrique suddenly laughed.
He stood up, walked over to her, and grasped her chin with one hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. His voice was cold, his expression merciless.
"Sana Vellore, give up on this idea."