The cold clung to her long after she left the river-view room. Claire sat in the back of the car, the envelope still in her hand. The edges bit into her skin with every bump of the road, but she didn't loosen her grip. She wasn't sure if it was stubbornness or if she was afraid it might disappear if she let go.
Kangwoo didn't speak as he drove. He never did when the air felt this heavy. Seoul's night pressed close against the tinted glass, streetlights sliding across her face like passing thoughts. She was still replaying the man's words in her head, the way he had said
Your mother would not have chosen him. It had been deliberate. A thread meant to pull her somewhere she couldn't see yet.
When the car stopped in front of her building, she didn't move right away. Kangwoo glanced at her through the mirror.
"Miss Yoo," he said quietly, "be careful tonight."
She stepped out without answering, the words following her up to her apartment like footsteps. Inside, she set the envelope on the counter and poured herself a glass of water she didn't drink. The quiet felt unnatural now.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages, stopping at her father's last call. There had been no word from him since yesterday. She typed a short text. Are you awake?…and stared at the screen until her thumb ached from the pressure. No reply.
By midnight, sleep hadn't even brushed against her. She sat on the floor by the window, knees pulled close, the envelope beside her. Her mind kept circling the same questions, who the man really was, what he wanted from Evan, and why her mother's name had been used like a blade.
When her phone finally buzzed, she grabbed it too fast. The number was unfamiliar.
[You won't get a second offer tomorrow.]
She didn't respond. A minute later, another message came.
[He'll use you to close the door. I'll use you to keep it open. Decide who you trust to hold the key.]
Her breath slowed, heavy and deliberate. She set the phone down face-first and pushed it away, as if distance could dull the effect of his words.
Morning came without her noticing. The city was still grey when she stepped into the shower, steam rising into the cold air. Every movement felt deliberate, choosing her clothes, fixing her hair, fastening the simple watch she wore when she wanted to be taken seriously.
At eight-thirty, she found herself standing in front of the envelope again. The metal card was still inside, untouched. She slipped it into her bag. Whatever happened at nine o'clock, she would control the moment it left her hands.
The drive to Yoo Industries was slow, the streets thick with traffic. At eight-fifty-five, Kangwoo's car slid into a quiet side entrance of a building she didn't recognize.
"This isn't the office," she said.
"Mr. Lee thought privacy would serve you better today," Kangwoo replied, holding the door for her.
The elevator ride was silent. When it opened, Evan was already there, standing by a table set with nothing but two cups of coffee and a black folder. He looked rested, which somehow made her more tense.
"Right on time," he said.
"I said nine," she replied, taking the seat opposite him.
He didn't open the folder. Instead, his gaze locked on her. "You've thought about the offer."
"I've thought about both offers," she said.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "The other one is an illusion. A comfortable lie until the ground disappears beneath you."
"And yours is the truth?"
"It's the only truth that keeps you standing."
She leaned back, studying him. "You could tell me his name now. It would make this simpler."
"It would make it reckless," Evan said, his voice steady. "I don't win by rushing the wrong move. Neither do you."
"Then what's today for?"
He didn't hesitate. "Today is for you to stop pretending you have more time."
For a moment, she considered telling him she wasn't afraid of running out of time. But she was. Not for herself, never just for herself. For her father, for the company, for the people who would never know their future had been decided in rooms like this.
She set the envelope on the table between them. "If I say yes, I want more than a public statement and a trust account. I want leverage. My own."
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if measuring her again. "What kind of leverage?"
"Information. The kind that can keep you from turning on me when it suits you."
"You think I'd—" He stopped himself. "You're learning."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It's a warning," he said, though there was a faint trace of approval in his tone.
She reached for the coffee but didn't drink it. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow morning. Ten o'clock. My office. You can bring the contract then."
"That's not what we agreed," Evan said.
"No," she said, standing, "but it's what I'm offering."
For a moment, she thought he might refuse outright. But then he leaned back, the faintest shift in his posture. "Ten o'clock," he repeated.
Kangwoo appeared as she moved toward the door, but before she stepped out, Evan spoke again. "Claire."
She turned.
"When you walk away from here, the other side will try harder. They'll use everything. Be ready."
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Outside, the air was sharp, the kind that woke every sense. She slid into the car and let the door close behind her, her reflection caught in the glass. She didn't know which path she would take yet, but whichever one it was, she'd make sure she wasn't walking it alone.