Six years later.
The penthouse balcony was filled with laughter as little footsteps ran across the marble floor. Hana leaned down, catching her daughter before she tumbled over. The girl's giggles rang out like chimes, filling the space with joy Hana once thought she'd never know.
"Eomma, faster!" the little one demanded, her dark eyes sparkling with the same fire Hana had once carried.
Mi-Ho appeared from the doorway, holding two cups of tea. "Our princess is going to tire you out," he teased, handing Hana one.
"She already has," Hana laughed, pulling her daughter onto her lap. She kissed the child's hair, inhaling the sweet innocence she had once believed was forever denied to her.
Life had changed. Not just in wealth or status, but in peace. The pain of her past hadn't vanished, but it no longer controlled her. She had built something new—with love, with trust, with freedom.
That evening, a message came. Her step-sisters, the very ones who had betrayed her, had arrived at the gates. They wanted to see her.
Mi-Ho frowned. "You don't have to, Hana. You owe them nothing."
But Hana shook her head gently. "I need to. Not for them—for me."
The next morning, the sisters stood in the garden, humbled and worn by years of regret. Their expensive airs were gone; all that remained were two broken women.
"Hana…" the eldest whispered, her eyes wet. "We were cruel. We ruined you. Please… forgive us."
The younger one fell to her knees, clutching Hana's hand. "We didn't know what we were doing. We were selfish and blind. But we have lived with guilt every day since. Give us a chance to repent."
For a long moment, Hana said nothing. Her daughter clung to her leg, staring at the strangers with wide, curious eyes. Mi-Ho stood at her side, his presence grounding her.
Finally, Hana spoke, her voice steady. "Once, I would have given anything for your love. But instead, you sold me. You chose greed over family. I cannot forget that."
The sisters wept openly, but Hana continued, her gaze softening. "But I can forgive. Not for you—but because I refuse to let hate chain me any longer."
Her words broke them. They bowed their heads to the ground, whispering thanks through their tears.
Hana turned away, her hand resting on her daughter's shoulder. "Learn from your mistakes. Don't waste the second chance life has given you."
As she walked back into the house, Mi-Ho took her hand. "That was brave," he murmured.
"It wasn't bravery," Hana said quietly. "It was freedom. Forgiving them means they no longer own any piece of me."
She lifted her daughter into her arms, gazing out over the city skyline. "I was once a slave," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the child's forehead. "But now… I am free. I am a mother. I am loved. And I am a billionaire—in more ways than money could ever measure."
The little girl smiled, wrapping her tiny arms around Hana's neck. Mi-Ho embraced them both, and under the golden sunset, Hana finally felt it—completion.
Her story had begun in chains, but it ended in triumph.