The city glimmered outside Joon-ho's penthouse, rain slicking the glass, neon bleeding down the skyline. It should have been a night for catching up on sleep or unfinished paperwork, but there was no peace in the hours after sabotage. Every text from Harin replayed in his mind—damage reports, repair costs, a dozen apologies for things that weren't her fault. Each buzz of his phone set his nerves on edge.
He poured a whiskey and leaned on the balcony, trying to drown the day's chaos with cold air and silence. It wasn't working. He was still there when the elevator chimed, its arrival softer than thunder, but just as certain.
