The car hummed smoothly along Roxas Boulevard, its tinted windows shutting out the Saturday traffic. Ashling sat in silence, her hands folded in her lap, the diamond-studded watch at her wrist catching the light with every turn. She had chosen carefully that morning — a black one-piece dress that skimmed her frame without being ostentatious, cinched at the waist with a slim belt. Cream-colored heels with a whisper of white and tiny diamonds on the heel tapped softly against the car floor. Her hair was left loose, falling in natural waves that caught the sunlight, her lips touched only with gloss.
Beside her, Kwang sat with his usual easy grace, long legs stretched just enough to make her knees brush his every time the car shifted lanes. He was humming under his breath — a tune she recognized from one of his dramas — and when he caught her looking, he grinned, sheepish.
"Nervous?" he asked softly, switching into English.
"A little," she admitted, though her voice stayed calm. "Your mother doesn't exactly make it easy."
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She doesn't make it easy for me either. You should see her when I tell her I'm skipping another board meeting. I think she keeps a list of every one I've dodged."
Ashling bit back a smile. He wasn't angry. Not sulking. Not afraid. Just… himself. Playful, a little shy, but steady in a way that calmed her.
The car glided to a stop at the base of Kang Corp's skyscraper. The glass tower gleamed like a blade of light cutting through Manila's gray sky. As they entered the marble lobby, murmurs followed them.
"Who is she?"
"Look at her shoes—cream, with diamonds!"
"Not an actress. Too poised. An investor's daughter?"
Ashling kept her gaze straight, her back tall. Inside, though, her stomach knotted. She knew this scene too well — the silent measuring of glances, the way wealth was weighed in whispers. She had lived it once before in Manila's hotel boardrooms.
Omma led them to the private elevator without a word. When the doors opened at the top floor, a hush fell over the hall.
Chairman Kang sat at the head of a long teakwood table, the light falling on his lined but steady face. He was propped slightly against pillows, his breathing audible but not weak. His presence was so absolute he didn't need to raise his voice when he said, "Sit."
They obeyed.
For a long moment, he studied them. His son, tall and restless, fingers tracing the table edge. His daughter-in-law, still as water, hair loose around her shoulders, her face unpainted save for the shimmer of gloss and the dark frame of her lashes.
Finally, he spoke.
"Kwang." His tone was calm, but it left no room for argument. "It is time. Kang Corp cannot wait. The board looks to you."
Kwang lifted his eyes. For once, the usual grin wasn't there. Instead, his voice was low, careful. "Appa… I respect you. I love you. But acting — it makes me happy. It gives me breath. To leave it now, at the height of my career… I cannot. Not yet."
A silence settled over the room. The Chairman's gaze sharpened, but he did not flare. He had raised his sons to face him with truth. He tapped one long finger against the polished table, then leaned back slowly.
"I expected this," he said finally.
Kwang blinked, startled. "You did?"
A faint smile touched his father's lips, though it carried no warmth. "Of course. You are your mother's son. You chase the world before it vanishes. But I am not a fool, Kwang. I know you will return when the stage grows small and the lights no longer feed you. The throne will still be here. The question is what happens until then."
Ashling held her breath.
The Chairman's gaze shifted, steady and unyielding, landing on her.
"Your wife will serve."
Her fingers tightened around her knees. "Sir?"
"You will join Kang Corp," he said, his tone as calm as if he were announcing the weather. "Publicly, you will hold the title of Director. But in truth, you will be Vice Chair. You will learn the business, be tested. And when the time comes, you will stand beside my son — not as ornament, but as partner."
Ashling blinked. The room seemed to tilt. Vice Chair?
Kwang leaned forward, voice still respectful but firm. "Appa—"
The Chairman's hand lifted. A simple gesture, yet it silenced him. "You will not deny me in this. This is my decision. I am still the head of this family. My word is final."
Ashling's throat was dry. She wanted to refuse. To say she was just a teacher, just a quiet woman who had come here by accident. But the old man's gaze pinned her in place, and the training of her childhood surfaced — the lessons of boardroom etiquette, of speaking only when spoken to.
Still, when she did speak, her voice was steady. In flawless Korean, she said:
"If this is truly your wish, Chairman, then I will serve. With respect."
A flicker of approval softened his eyes. He inclined his head once, the gesture both acknowledgement and decree. "Good. You will begin soon. And Kwang…" His gaze shifted back to his son. "Enjoy your acting. But remember — happiness is fleeting. Duty remains."
Kwang gave a small, almost shy smile, bowing his head. "I understand, Appa."
"Good." The Chairman rose, his shawl draped neatly across his shoulders. "Then it is settled."
Outside the Office
The elevator doors closed with a soft hiss. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Ashling finally exhaled. "Well," she said, forcing a small laugh, "that was… not what I expected."
Kwang glanced at her, brow furrowed. "You agreed too quickly."
She arched a brow. "And you refused too quickly."
He almost smiled, but his jaw stayed tight. "He doesn't let go, Ashling. Not when it comes to the company."
She gave him a wry look, her cream heels clicking against the marble as they stepped out into the lobby. "I grew up in a house like that. Believe me — I know what it means when a father says, It is decided."
Kwang studied her, as if seeing her again for the first time. There was something unshakable about her calm, something both infuriating and magnetic. He didn't understand why the idea of her being pulled into Kang Corp twisted his chest the way it did. He only knew that he didn't want her hurt.
She tilted her head, a faint smile tugging her lips. "Don't look so grim. At least your father didn't yell."
That earned a laugh from him, quiet but real. "You don't know how rare that is."
She looked at him then — really looked — at the way his smile softened his face, how despite the tension of the meeting he could still find lightness. She wondered, not for the first time, how this man who was supposed to be her "stranger husband" kept pulling her closer without even trying.
That night, lying awake in the Kang residence guest room, Ashling stared at the ceiling. Her mind spun with the Chairman's words. Vice Chair. It felt absurd, terrifying… and yet, familiar. She had once been the quiet daughter at the edge of another empire, hiding her sharpest thoughts behind a polite smile. Now, here she was again — except this time, the patriarch wanted her at the table.
She laughed softly into the dark, almost bitter, almost relieved. "Only me," she whispered. "Only I could come to San Francisco and accidentally get promoted."
In the room across the hall, Young Kwang lay awake too, staring at the ceiling, his phone glowing faintly in his hand. He could still see her sitting at the boardroom table, answering his father in perfect Korean, steady and sure. He should have been angry at his father's maneuver. He should have been furious at being cornered.
But what lingered wasn't anger. It was the way she hadn't flinched. The way she had carried herself as if she had always belonged.
He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, a low laugh escaping. "What are you doing to me, Ashling?" he whispered into the dark.
Neither of them slept.