The meeting did not end so much as dissolve. Glasses of whiskey appeared in the hands of the older men, low laughter curling between them as if the real business had been settled long before she walked in. Claire stayed where she was, standing at the edge of the conversation, her expression calm.
Evan, of course, looked entirely at ease. His posture was loose but intentional, his words precise enough to keep the room orbiting him. She had seen men like this before, confident because the game was theirs from the start. What unnerved her was not the confidence itself, but how naturally he played it, as though he had never once considered the possibility of losing.
When one of the men set his glass down and began pulling on his coat, Evan shifted, guiding the conversation toward her without warning.
"And this," he said, his voice smooth, "is the woman I told you about."
Both men looked at her, interest sharpening in their eyes.
Claire's pulse jumped. She had not agreed to be the woman in any conversation.
"She is far more than the press will ever deserve to write about," Evan continued, as though narrating an introduction in a magazine profile. "Sharp, disciplined. The kind of person who walks into a room and changes its air without trying."
The words were flattering. They were also calculated. She recognized the move instantly…he was selling her, the same way one sells an idea, a stock, a merger.
"She will be at the gala next week, of course," he added, looking at her in a way that dared her to contradict him.
Claire's lips curved in a polite, almost imperceptible smile. "If my schedule allows," she said evenly.
One of the men chuckled, clearly amused by her composure. "You're going to have your hands full with this one," he said to Evan.
"Exactly why I am marrying her," Evan replied without missing a beat.
The room stilled for a fraction of a second, just enough for the words to register like a dropped match on dry grass.
Claire felt her breath catch in her throat. This was not a conversation anymore. It was a public declaration.
Her gaze flicked to the men. Their expressions shifted in an almost imperceptible way…measuring her now, the way one assesses a sealed deal before signing. She could practically hear the quiet click of assumptions locking into place.
Evan turned to her, his expression calm, almost bland. But his eyes… his eyes were telling her that this was not a mistake, nor a slip of the tongue. It was exactly the move he intended to make.
She refused to look away. "I was not aware we had reached that decision," she said softly, each word deliberate.
The older man nearest her smiled like he was watching a performance. "You two will be the talk of the city."
Claire did not answer. Because if she did, she might say something that would set this entire room on fire.
The meeting closed with handshakes and parting pleasantries. Evan escorted the men toward the terrace doors, his voice low and cordial, before returning to her.
"That was not in the contract," she said the moment they were alone.
He studied her like she was a puzzle piece he had already decided where to place. "Neither was ignoring my invitation tonight, yet here you are."
"I came because Kangwoo made it sound like a threat if I didn't."
"Then I suppose my methods are effective."
She took a step closer, her voice dropping. "Do you think you can just stand in a room full of your business contacts and decide my life for me?"
He didn't blink. "I think you misunderstand, Claire. I don't decide your life. I simply remove the paths that aren't worth your time."
The arrogance in that statement made her chest tighten. "You're unbelievable."
"And yet," his gaze flicked briefly to her bag, "you're still here."
Before she could answer, Kangwoo reappeared at the edge of the room. "The press are gathering outside, sir. They have already been tipped off about tonight."
Claire's head snapped toward him. "Tipped off about what?"
Kangwoo's eyes flickered briefly in her direction before settling back on Evan. "About the engagement."
The word hit harder than she expected. Engagement. It was no longer a casual remark in a private meeting. Now it was being fed to the city.
"You're insane," she said, her voice low but fierce. "You can't just—"
"It's already in motion," Evan interrupted, his tone not sharp, but final. "And you know as well as I do that your father's company will breathe easier by tomorrow morning."
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. He was right, and that was what infuriated her most. He was pushing her into a corner where resistance looked like recklessness, and compliance looked like strategy.
She forced her voice steady. "You think you've won something tonight."
His gaze didn't waver. "Not yet."
They stood there for a long moment, the city's glittering skyline stretching behind him. Somewhere below, the press were waiting, cameras ready to capture a story she hadn't agreed to tell.
Kangwoo stepped forward. "Shall I escort Miss Yoo down?"
Evan's eyes stayed on her. "She'll decide for herself."
The choice sat between them like a live wire. Go down those steps and be photographed, and she would be confirming the narrative he had crafted. Walk away now, and she would leave the room knowing her absence would not stop the story from spreading, only make her look like she was already losing the game.
Claire exhaled slowly, every nerve in her body coiled tight.
She turned toward the terrace doors, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The night air hit her first…cool, sharp, carrying the scent of rain. Below, flashes popped like distant lightning.
Evan followed, but at a distance, letting her take the lead.
And in that moment, she understood something she hadn't before. This wasn't just about saving Yoo Industries. It wasn't even just about him winning.
It was about control. And she was walking straight into the center of it.