The Call
The San Francisco afternoon was gold and lazy, sunlight spilling across the hardwood floors of the Kang residence. Ashling had just finished answering a few emails under one of her pen names when her phone buzzed. She frowned at the screen. Mama.
Her stomach dipped.
She answered quickly. "Mama?"
Claudia Sullivan's voice was as crisp as always, carrying the clipped authority of someone who had negotiated hotel contracts in half a dozen languages. "Ashling. Your father and I will be landing in San Francisco in sixteen hours. Don't book us a hotel — we've reserved the Palace. Have Kwang's family free for dinner tomorrow evening. Six o'clock. At their residence."
Ashling froze. "Dinner? Tomorrow?"
"Yes," Claudia said, her tone like a gavel. "It is time. You didn't think we'd let you marry into another dynasty without introductions?"
"Mama, I—"
"No excuses, Ashling. Six o'clock. Tell his parents we look forward to it."
Click.
Ashling lowered the phone slowly. She could almost see her mother's diamond earrings catching the light as she delivered the order.
"What's wrong?" Kwang's voice drifted from the sofa, where he sat scrolling through a script in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, looking about as un-chaebol as humanly possible.
Ashling pressed a hand to her forehead. "My parents are coming. They'll be here tomorrow."
He blinked. "Here? In San Francisco?"
"Yes." She swallowed. "They want dinner with your family."
Kwang tilted his head. Then, with that sheepish, slightly goofy grin of his, he chuckled. "Well… Omma's going to love that. She's been waiting to measure you with her X-ray vision."
Ashling groaned, collapsing into the armchair across from him. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
Preparations
By the next evening, the Kang residence was transformed. The long dining table gleamed under crystal lights, set with porcelain and crystal so fine even Ashling's meticulous mother would approve. White lilies lined the center. A faint scent of roasted sesame and grilled beef lingered from the kitchen.
Omma supervised like a general before a parade. "Make sure the kimchi is fresh. No, not that banchan, the other set. And someone adjust the candles — they're uneven."
Kwang leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, grinning faintly. "Relax, Omma. They're just people."
Omma shot him a look sharp enough to slice glass. "They are not just people. They are your wife's parents. Appearances matter."
Ashling, adjusting the slim red belt around her waist, muttered under her breath, "You have no idea."
Kwang caught it and smirked. "Should I be worried?"
"Yes," she deadpanned, though the corner of her mouth twitched.
The Arrival
At precisely six o'clock, the Sullivan car pulled into the driveway. Ashling's heart pounded as the butler opened the door. Out stepped Claudia Sullivan, tall and commanding in a cream silk dress, her hair swept into an elegant twist. Beside her, Caelum Sullivan wore a dark navy suit, his salt-and-pepper hair lending him an aura of quiet authority.
"Darling," Claudia said smoothly as she swept inside, kissing Ashling's cheek. "You look well."
"Mama. Papa." Ashling forced a smile, hugging her father. His embrace steadied her more than he knew.
Introductions followed in the front hall. Chairman Kang inclined his head, formal but welcoming. Omma's smile was cool, but her eyes sparkled with curiosity. Kwang shuffled forward, bowing politely before flashing his shy grin.
"Shall we?" Chairman Kang gestured toward the dining room.
The Table
Dinner began with polite conversation, as stiff and gleaming as the crystal glasses.
"We've admired Hyundai for years," Caelum said warmly. "Your vehicles run in all our resorts. Bali, Phuket, Cebu."
Chairman Kang inclined his head. "And we've followed the Sullivan Group. Twelve hotels, five resorts across Southeast Asia. A fine achievement."
Claudia's smile curved, sharp as glass. "We built it from nothing. We expect our daughters to strengthen it, not run from it."
Ashling lowered her gaze to her plate, cheeks heating. She felt Kwang glance at her, but she kept her face still.
Omma's lips twitched. "On that, we agree. A daughter's loyalty is to her family first."
The air thickened. Ashling's fork clinked against porcelain.
Kwang, ever the peacemaker, leaned forward with a grin. "The galbi's really good, right? Omma had the kitchen working since morning."
Caelum chuckled, easing the tension. "Delicious. We've enjoyed Korean cuisine often on our travels. In fact, our chef in Manila trained under a Korean master."
That caught Chairman Kang's attention. His eyes sharpened. "Which master?"
"Choi Min-woo. In Busan," Caelum said casually.
The Chairman's brow rose, impressed. "Ah. A man of taste."
Conversation picked up. Deals were mentioned in passing. Resorts in Singapore. A potential expansion in Tokyo. Hotel occupancy trends. Shipping lanes. Airlines.
And somewhere between the talk of Singapore suites and Bali villas, Kwang's chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth.
He blinked. Once. Twice. His gaze flicked to Ashling, then back to her parents, who were trading market forecasts with his father like seasoned generals.
Wait.
His father called them equals. His mother, for once, said nothing. His wife's parents weren't wealthy. They weren't rich. They were billionaires.
And Ashling had said nothing.
A slow grin spread across his face, hidden behind his wineglass. Oh, this was good.
This was very good.
The Reveal
Dinner ended with Caelum raising a glass of wine. "To our children. May they choose their own happiness — and still honor us in the end."
Glasses clinked softly. Smiles were exchanged. The patriarchs seemed content. Omma's eyes still measured every move, but even she looked faintly satisfied.
When the Sullivans left for their hotel, Ashling exhaled so deeply her shoulders sagged. She turned toward the stairs, ready to collapse.
But Kwang was leaning against the banister, arms crossed, his grin positively wicked.
"So…" he began, his voice lazy with amusement. "Ashling Sullivan. Heiress of twelve hotels and five resorts." He arched a brow. "And here I thought you were after the one million dollar prize money."
Her face flamed. "Kwang."
"You should have seen yourself at dinner," he teased, stepping closer. "Sitting there all calm, letting me think you were—what?—some simple girl with a duct-taped suitcase?"
She folded her arms, scowling. "I never said I was poor."
"You never said you were a billionaire, either." His grin widened. "No wonder you looked so comfortable in Appa's office. You've been training for boardrooms since birth!"
She huffed. "I wanted anonymity. I didn't want anyone to know."
He leaned down until his smile was inches from hers. "So you're saying you married me under false pretenses?"
Ashling's lips curved despite herself. "Says the man who forgot to mention he was a chaebol heir."
"Touché," he murmured, laughing softly.
She tried to step past him, but he caught her hand lightly. "Ash?"
She looked up.
His grin softened into something smaller, almost shy. "I like this side of you. The heiress. The strategist. The woman who stared down my father without blinking. But I also like the girl who eats burgers on a curb at midnight. Both of them. Together."
Her heart thudded, hard.
She pulled her hand back gently, masking the tremor in her voice with a smirk. "Careful, Kwang. If you keep teasing me, I'll let your mother know you cry when you eat spicy food."
His laughter followed her up the stairs, warm and unguarded.
Closing Reflection
Later that night, Ashling lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The dinner replayed in her mind — Claudia's sharp eyes, Caelum's warm toast, Chairman Kang's calm authority, Omma's cool assessment, Kwang's teasing grin.
For the first time, the weight of two empires pressed on her shoulders. She wasn't just hiding anymore. She was being seen.
And strangely, instead of fear, she felt a flicker of something else.
Excitement.
Maybe, just maybe, this was where she was meant to rise again.