Blood Ties
Ye‑rin's chest heaved.
The kiss.
His lips.
Her memories, her guilt, her fear—they all screamed at once.
She shoved him back. Hard.
"I… I'm not—"
"I know you." His voice was low, steady, but sharp enough to make her flinch.
"You… you're lying," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm not the one."
"I remember this kiss," he said, eyes locked on hers. "That night… I felt it. I've never felt anything like it before."
Panic flooded her. Heart pounding like a drum in her chest.
"No! Sir, you're mistaken—"
Her phone rang. Sharp. Insistent. Vibrating against the table.
She jumped.
"Hello?" she gasped.
"Mrs. Seo? This is Haneul Academy. Your son… he's collapsed. We're rushing him to the hospital."
Her blood ran cold.
"Min‑joon?!"
The room spun.
Jae‑hyun's eyes snapped to hers.
"We're going," he said. Calm. Commanding.
"No! I… I can handle this myself," she stammered, clutching her bag.
He stepped forward, blocking her path.
"Don't argue. I'm going with you."
Her hands trembled. "Sir, you can't—"
"I said I'm going."
The elevator ride was silent. Tense. Both lost in thought, hearts hammering.
Traffic blurred past as he drove, calm behind the wheel, but the storm in his mind raged.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear.
Her steps quickened. Every second counted.
Jae‑hyun followed closely, scanning every corner. Calm. Sharp. Dangerous. Protective.
She burst into the emergency room.
And froze.
There. On the stretcher. Small, fragile. Tiny chest rising and falling rapidly. Messy hair. Bright, terrified eyes.
Min‑joon.
The boy she had fought so hard to protect, her heart, her reason.
And…
He froze Jae‑hyun.
The CEO's eyes went wide. Heart stopped.
Five years. That tiny frame. That nose. Those eyes.
The boy from the academy.
No one had told him a word. Yet…
He knew.
That child.
Was his.
A doctor approached, calm but hurried.
"Patient: Kang Min‑joon. Condition: severe anemia after sudden collapse. He needs an immediate blood transfusion."
Ye‑rin's throat closed. She nodded, swallowing.
"Please. Do what you can."
The doctor explained the procedure briefly and left.
And the room fell silent.
Except for the faint beep of monitors.
Jae‑hyun turned slowly to Ye‑rin.
His gaze was sharp, piercing.
"Until when, Seo Ye‑rin?" he asked softly.
She flinched.
"What… what do you mean, sir?"
He stepped closer. Calm. Controlled. But every inch radiated authority.
"You. That night. The woman I—"
"No! I… I'm not—" she tried to cut him off, voice breaking.
"Stop lying to me." He pressed, dark eyes unwavering. "I felt it. That kiss. You were the one. You're the woman I—"
Her tears fell. Silent. Hot. She shook her head.
"Do you even realize what this means?" he asked, voice low, dangerous. "Do you realize what you've done? That boy… that child… is mine."
"I…" she whispered. Guilt, fear, shame. Everything pressed down on her.
"You can't deny it." His tone hardened. "The resemblance… the way he moves, the way he looks at me. Everything about him—"
She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.
"And until when are you going to admit it? Until when will you keep lying to yourself—and me? That boy is mine."
Her hands clutched at her chest. Her knees almost buckled.
Jae‑hyun's chest tightened with pain. Rage. Confusion. Heartbreak.
"I can't…" she whispered finally. "I… I was trying… I didn't know… I—"
He shook his head.
"You've kept this from me for five years. You don't know what you've done… what I could have been to him… to you."
Her body trembled, sobs breaking free.
"I—" she tried again.
But he turned abruptly.
"Enough."
He strode out of the room, leaving her trembling, silent, broken, tears streaking down her cheeks.
The monitors beeped around her. The boy's small hand reached out to her.
Her heart shattered.
And Jae‑hyun, walking down the sterile corridor, clenched his fists.
Anger. Pain. Confusion. Possessiveness.
All tangled together in a storm he didn't know how to calm.
Outside, the sky was gray. Rain threatened but hadn't come yet.
Inside, life felt suspended.
The truth hovered between them.
And for the first time in years…
He didn't know whether to curse her… or forgive her.
But one thing was certain.
He wouldn't leave it there.
Not now.
Not ever.