TCBW C71

Chapter 71

It wasn’t only her.

None of the young heirs present that night could tear their eyes from Dowoon.

The man who had once been the perfect successor now carried the air of a self-made magnate—his gaze brimming with unmasked ambition and greed. The sheer pressure he exuded was on an entirely different level from his peers.

From that night onward, Sara fell even deeper under his spell. Her fascination grew into obsession—something bordering on madness. She began appearing at events he was scheduled to attend, investigating his acquaintances, and acting out violently toward any woman who dared approach him.

Dowoon was fully aware of her influence and wealth. Instead of opposing her, he chose to make use of her obsession. He neither rejected nor encouraged her openly, simply allowing her to linger—sometimes even leaving deliberate openings to keep her close.

And since Sara Han was too powerful for anyone to admonish, no one dared to speak ill of her eccentricities.

Her reputation remained spotless, while her behavior went unchecked.

Because Dowoon never stopped her, and she pursued him so boldly, their appearances together at public functions became commonplace.

Before long, they had become a familiar sight—an elegant pair standing side by side.

“Weren’t those two engaged?”

“I heard they’re seeing each other. Director Han of Saeman visits Yongseong Electronics and Finance constantly—they attend every major event together.”

“Well, they do look good together.”

And so, their ambiguous relationship became accepted fact.

At first, Sara’s father had not been pleased.

“Why not the younger son, rather than the disinherited one?” he’d said.

But Sara, ever defiant, had shot back,

“Are you still on that? He’s not bad at all—and he’s a rare extreme-dominant Alpha. I think he’ll propose next year.”

In the end, her persistence—and the rapid rise of Yongseong Finance—quieted the family’s opposition.

She began spending more time with Dowoon both in public and private, dining and drinking together whenever possible. They never explicitly defined themselves as lovers, yet Sara believed she was the only woman who could truly give him what he desired.

Even when he met other women—or touched none at all—she could feign ignorance and wait.

Last year, they saw each other frequently.

This year, she believed, would bring the proposal.

She thought she had finally trapped the great catch, Lee Dowoon, inside her glass bowl.

Her anxiety began with the new year.

The calls slowed. The meetings grew fewer.

Worse, she heard rumors that he had started meeting with Chairman Lee—the very father he had despised.

If Dowoon reconciled and inherited Yongseong Electronics, she would lose all her value to him. The thought of that possibility terrified her.

Last year, she had spoken confidently about their relationship. This year, her silence invited whispers.

“Didn’t you say there’d be good news with the president of Yongseong Finance?”

In response, Sara doubled down. She made unannounced visits to his company, flaunting her supposed connection, gathering proof to reassure herself.

“Yes, it’s true he met Chairman Lee around the end of last year. But after that, he cut off every woman he’d been seeing. Cleanly. That has to mean something.”

The absence of those women meant change. Her spies confirmed it.

And—by coincidence or not—around that same time, he had given her a gift perfectly suited to her tastes.

It seemed, she told herself, that things were not turning sour after all.

Still, she began dropping by his office without warning.

There were no women in sight.

Only a young male cleaner, delicate-faced and beautiful enough to be mistaken for one.

But Dowoon, she reminded herself, wasn’t the sort to bed men—not even Omegas. That, at least, calmed her.

Adding all the clues together, she reached her conclusion:

He was merely busier this year, just as he’d said. There was no other woman.

If she waited patiently, he would return to her.

She needed to believe that.

Yet the more she tried to soothe herself, the less peace she found.

In the end, her answer came in the form of a drug—an illicit rut-inducing serum smuggled from overseas.

Something strong enough to break even a Beta’s limits.

She dissolved it into the wine he would drink tonight. If a man of his stature staggered after one glass, the dose had to be potent.

You should have given in long ago.

“…What did you put in it?”

Dowoon’s brow furrowed as he struggled to steady his mind.

Sara smiled easily and lied without hesitation.

“Oh, nothing serious. Just something playful. You’ve been tired lately, haven’t you? Call it… a strong restorative.”

A restorative?

His expression chilled, amusement draining into ice.

She had crossed the line—and he no longer found any reason to remain.

If he demanded to know the ingredients here, there was no telling what else she might try.

Gripping the table, he rose.

“I’ll hold you accountable for this later.”

“Leaving already?”

“……”

“If you can still walk… then by all means, go.”

Ignoring her taunting tone, Dowoon turned toward the door.

Haeon, pale with alarm, rushed to support him.

“Sir, I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No need.”

He rejected the hand firmly. He was determined to discern what was happening to his body on his own.

Haeon hovered, glaring at Sara, who sat poised and unruffled—as though the entire event amused her. Her aides stood motionless behind her, offering no help, no protest.

The realization that they were all in on it filled Haeon with dread.

Sara Han was a machine without brakes.

Then, something flickered in Dowoon’s mind—an old memory.

This feeling… rut stimulant?

He’d experienced it once before, years ago, at a university party—a spiked drink, a dizzy heat.

This was the same—but heavier, sharper, dragging his senses under.

So that’s what it was.

He gave a bitter laugh. He had expected a marriage proposal, not this.

When had he become so careless?

He had underestimated her.

Boom—!

A bolt of lightning tore through a clear sky.

Suhoe looked up, bewildered. The weather had been bright and calm moments ago—how could it turn so suddenly?

Before he could think further, the heavens broke open.

A torrential rain fell in sheets, unrelenting.

Monsoon season was still far off.

What was happening?

Crash!

“Oh! Are you all right?”

Beside him, Mr. Kim had dropped a teacup, the porcelain shattering across the floor. Startled by the thunder, his hands trembled violently.

“Ah, these joints of mine… always stiff lately.”

“It’s all right, as long as you’re not hurt.”

Suhoe knelt to gather the shards, comforting the old man, though his own chest felt tight and cold.

He wasn’t gifted with divine energy; he was merely a vessel for misfortune.

And yet—the chill crawling down his spine felt like a warning.

An inexplicable dread surged through him like a black tide.

The storm raged on without pause.

Hours had passed since he’d sent Mr. Kim home, and still Suhoe stood by the window.

His face was pale, fingers cold, eyes dark with unease.

It wasn’t unusual for Dowoon to stay out late, but tonight—the silence pressed like a weight.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Then—

A dull thud echoed from the entryway.

Heart pounding, he ran to the door and threw it open.

Dowoon stood there, soaked to the bone, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Dowoon…?”

He looked barely conscious, drenched as though he’d walked through the storm from the company to home.

His expensive suit clung to him in disarray, and his eyes—once sharp and discerning—were unfocused, as if he could not even recognize the person before him.

He had returned by instinct alone, like a wounded beast finding its way back to its den.