They don't look alike.
That's my first thought, which is stupid, because they're twins. Identical. Same height—just over six feet. Same black hair. Same sharp jaw that echoes their father's. Same dark eyes.
But they don't look alike.
The one who enters first takes up the entire doorway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white t-shirt, jeans ripped at the knee in a way that looks expensive rather than worn. His hair is pushed back, slightly messy, like he ran his fingers through it on the way in. Silver rings on three fingers. A thin chain around his neck. Everything about him is loud.
He looks at me the way you look at something stuck to the bottom of your shoe.
The second one slips in behind him. Same face, but colder. Sharper somehow. His hair is neater, parted to the side. No jewelry except a watch.He's wearing a navy sweater over a collared shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Where his brother is noise, he's silence.
He doesn't look at me at all.
"Boys." Chairman Kang rises from the sofa. "Come. Meet Elena and her daughter."
The loud one—Su-ho, I remember from my mother's sparse descriptions—doesn't move from the doorway. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the frame .
"We've met." His Korean is too fast for me to catch, but I recognize my mother's name in there somewhere. The tone needs no translation.
"In English, please," Chairman Kang says. "For our guests."
Su-ho's smile widens.
"I said—" He switches to English, accented but clear. "—we've seen the pictures. The ones you sent. Trying to prepare us." His gaze slides to my mother, then to me. Lingers. "Pictures didn't mention how young this one is."
"Su-ho." A warning in Chairman Kang's voice.
"What? I'm being welcoming." He pushes off from the doorframe and moves into the room. Each step Lazy."Welcome to Korea. Welcome to our home. Welcome to our family." He stops in front of my mother. Towers over her. "How long do you think this one will last, Father? Longer than the last woman who tried to replace our mother?"
My mother's face has gone pale.
"That's enough," Chairman Kang says.
"Is it?" Su-ho tilts his head. "I'm just curious. She should know the odds."
The other twin—Min-jun—still hasn't spoken. He's moved to the window, standing with his back partially to the room, looking out at the garden like none of this concerns him. But I catch his reflection in the glass. He's watching. Taking everything in.
"Apologize," Chairman Kang says. His voice has gone quiet.
Su-ho laughs. Actually laughs—a short, harsh sound.
"For what? Honesty?" He turns, finally, fully, to look at me. "And what about you? Do you speak? Or are you just here to look pretty and spend our money?"
My mother's hand finds mine. Squeezes. A warning. Please don't. Please just let it go. Please don't make this worse.
I squeeze back.
Then I let go.
"I speak," I say. "I just don't waste words on people who aren't worth them."
The silence stretches.
Su-ho blinks. Once. Twice. His smile falters for half a second before it's back, edged with something new.
"She bites," he says. Not to me. To his brother. "Did you hear that, Min-jun? The American bites."
Min-jun doesn't turn from the window. "I heard."
LHis voice is different from Su-ho's—lower,, like he's conserving energy for something more important than this.
"Interesting." Su-ho takes a step closer to me. Close enough that I can smell his cologne—something dark, probably expensive. "Most people don't talk back to me."
"Most people aren't me."
"Clearly." His eyes move over my face. Down to my wrinkled clothes. Back up. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."
"Thirteen-hour flight."
"Mm." He leans in. Just slightly. "That's not what I meant."
My stomach tightens, but I don't move back. Don't give him the satisfaction.
"Su-ho." Chairman Kang's voice cuts through. "Enough. Sit down."
For a moment, I think Su-ho will refuse. The tension between him and his father is visible—a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap. But then he shrugs, all casual indifference, and drops onto the sofa beside my mother. Too close. She shifts away slightly, and his smile flickers with amusement.
"Min-jun," Chairman Kang says. "Join us."
The quiet twin finally turns from the window. He crosses the room in silence and takes the armchair nearest to the door. The farthest seat from all of us. His posture is perfect—back straight, hands resting on the armrests. Like he's posing for a portrait.
He still hasn't looked at me directly. Not once.
Somehow, that's worse than Su-ho's open hostility.
"Dinner will be served in an hour," Chairman Kang says. He's trying to steer things back to normal. Trying to smooth over what just happened. "Mrs. Park will show you both to your rooms so you can rest and freshen up."
My mother stands immediately. Eager to escape.
I stand slower.
"Amara."
I turn. Su-ho is sprawled across the sofa now, one arm thrown over the back, legs spread wide. Taking up as much space as possible.
"Yes?"
He grins. "Try not to get lost. The house is big. Wouldn't want you wandering somewhere you don't belong."
I hold his gaze for a three count. Then I turn and walk out.
The housekeeper is waiting in the hallway. She says nothing about what she must have heard through the doors—just gestures for us to follow and begins walking.
My mother grabs my arm as soon as we're out of earshot.
"What were you thinking?" she hisses.
"I was thinking he was being an asshole."
"Language."
"Fine. He was being a jerk. Better?"
"Mara—"
"Don't." I pull my arm free. "You wanted me here. I'm here. But I'm not going to sit there and let some rich kid treat me like dirt just because his RICH daddy is marrying you."
My mother stops walking. The housekeeper continues ahead, either not noticing or pretending not to.
"This is hard for them too," my mother says quietly. "Their mother—"
"Died. I know. That doesn't give him permission to be cruel."
"It's only the first day. Things will get easier."
I look at her. Really look. At the hope in her eyes, the desperation underneath it. She needs this to work. Needs it more than she's ever needed anything.
"Sure, Mom," I say. "Whatever you say."
I start walking again.
The housekeeper leads us up the curved staircase, down another long hallway, past more closed doors. Finally, she stops.
"Miss Brooks. Your room."
She opens the door.
The room is huge. A queen bed with white linens. A desk by the window. A big closet. Everything is clean and impersonal, a hotel suite waiting for a guest who might check out at any moment.
My bags are already here. The blue duffel with the safety pins. My backpack. Sitting in the corner like they don't belong.
Because they don't.
Because I don't.
"Dinner is at seven," the housekeeper says. "Don't be late. The Chairman dislikes tardiness."
She leaves without waiting for a response.
I close the door. Lock it.
Then I sit on the edge of the bed and press my palms against my eyes until I see stars.
One hour until dinner.
One hour to figure out how I'm going to survive this.