TCBW C82

Chapter 82

For a brief moment, Dowoon could not tear his gaze away from the janitor standing before him.

“Pardon me.”

“…!”

But the cleaner, preoccupied with collecting what she had accidentally left behind, did not even lift her head. She swiftly gathered her belongings and hurried out of the office.

As soon as she left, Haeon stepped in.

“Sir, I have something to report—wait, what’s wrong?”

Holding a file of faxed documents, the secretary, neat in his pressed suit, froze mid-sentence at the sight of his boss’s dazed expression. He set the file down quickly on the desk and leaned forward, trying to gauge what had happened.

“That cleaner, just now…”

“Yes? The cleaner who just left?”

“……”

“Ah, yes. A female Beta cleaner. She’s new… Why do you ask?”

Dowoon didn’t answer immediately.

But Haeon, ever perceptive, filled the silence. Though work had been hectic lately, he still made sure to monitor the janitorial staff closely. After all, given everything that had happened, it was unlikely that Dowoon would ever allow Suhoe to work again—but if the Omega insisted on it, things could take unpredictable turns.

So, just in case, Haeon had started paying attention to the gender of every new cleaning hire.

Better safe than sorry.

That was how he knew immediately that the cleaner who’d just left was a Beta woman.

At first, Dowoon had mistaken her for Suhoe—perhaps because of her long hair. But he quickly recalled that Suhoe’s frame was taller, his shoulders broader, his movements more composed.

Still, the resemblance had been enough to strike something deep in him.

Though he knew full well that he would be notified the instant his wife left the hospital, a part of him had still wondered if—just maybe—it was Suhoe.

Maybe he’d recovered and decided to surprise him.

That single fleeting thought had been enough to paralyze him.

He’d been completely unfocused since returning to the office.

He’d never once caught a glimpse of his spouse at work before. The notion alone had been absurd. Yet here he was, thinking about the young man lying in a hospital bed—so much that he’d mistaken a stranger for him.

Dowoon dragged a large hand down his face in silent frustration.

“…It’s nothing. What is it?”

He finally turned his attention back to Haeon, who had been waiting patiently.

Haeon, realizing immediately what must have gone through his superior’s mind, decided to act as if nothing had happened.

“Ah, well. Seaman Group contacted us again today.”

He gestured to the file he’d just placed on the desk—his tone all business now.

Seaman Group. Sara’s family.

They had sent yet another proposal for negotiation.

It was a matter that could determine whether Sara would ever show her face in high society again—or whether her family’s entire empire would crumble.

Her elder brothers had already been driven out of the business world following various scandals. If Sara’s assault case became public, Seaman’s inheritance line would end with her.

The collapse of the country’s most powerful distribution conglomerate, passed down through generations, was imminent.

Sara was already under investigation for ingesting hallucinatory substances. If it was revealed that she had also drugged Dowoon with pheromone stimulants and physically assaulted Suhoe, the affair would explode beyond repair.

Chairman Han of Seaman Group was terrified.

It wasn’t just about losing his successor anymore—it was about surviving the aftermath.

After all, the scandal didn’t involve some minor aristocrat—it involved Lee Dowoon, the CEO of Yongseong Finance.

Not even the press, the prosecutors, nor the police would dare move without consequence.

Especially not now, when rumors had begun circulating that Dowoon, once estranged from his father, had reestablished contact and repaired their relationship.

That made everything more dangerous.

To salvage what little he could, Chairman Han had been attempting to strike a deal with Dowoon—offering money, information, anything of value.

Even when Dowoon refused to take his calls, even when he all but lived at the hospital out of guilt for his injured spouse, the Chairman continued sending people to him.

It had only made things worse.

“Sir, about Chairman Han—when should I tell them to expect—”

“Didn’t I say I’d contact him when I see fit?”

Dowoon’s voice was low, measured, but heavy with disdain.

The Seaman envoys had been forced to return empty-handed, reeking of his pheromones. The Chairman had been shaken enough by that to stop sending people to the hospital—but he had not stopped pestering Haeon privately.

The file he carried today was one of those messages—a long, groveling settlement proposal sent through the company’s legal team.

“It’s the same as last time,” Haeon murmured.

Dowoon didn’t even glance at it. Instead, he reached inside his jacket, searching for his cigarettes.

“The old man must be panicking now that the press has started digging into Han Sara’s case.”

There was no mockery in his tone—only quiet contempt.

He pulled out a cigarette, resting it between his fingers, and frowned slightly as he waited for Haeon to light it.

“Still, perhaps it’s better to finalize the deal before the story blows up entirely. How about before your trip abroad?”

Dowoon didn’t respond immediately.

He looked out through the tall office windows, where the riverside highway glittered with streaks of moving cars. The night was deep, and the city pulsed with life.

Haeon flicked the lighter, the flame reflecting in his glasses.

“Is the site prepared?” Dowoon asked at last.

“Yes. The construction’s complete. You can visit anytime—the interior’s ready.”

Dowoon exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

The hour hand on his watch was already nearing its peak. It was late.

“I’ll meet Chairman Han after the trip,” he said finally.

It was a delay Haeon expected, and though he hesitated, he nodded. Dowoon’s mind had already moved far beyond Seaman Group.

As Dowoon rose from his chair, Haeon quickly fetched his jacket and called the driver stationed below.

“Mr. Lee is coming down now. Please bring the car to the front. Destination—Yongseong Hospital, Seoul.”

His intuition, sharp as ever, proved right.

Dowoon didn’t object.

Sitting silently in the back seat, his gaze distant, he looked every bit the man whose thoughts were elsewhere.

In the front passenger seat, Haeon spoke lightly through the rearview mirror.

“Professor Eun stayed with Madam quite late tonight. She said he ate the snacks we sent over, too.”

He smiled faintly, hoping to elicit even a small reaction.

“That’s good,” Dowoon said simply.

The faintest hint of relief flickered across his features as he turned to the window. His mind drifted—to Suhoe, and his recent fixation with fruit.

He hadn’t thought much of it before, but now that he considered it, Suhoe had never been particularly picky about food.

Old Mr. Kim, their long-time cook, had always specialized in traditional dishes. Dowoon had been raised on them; Suhoe, though from the countryside, had accepted them easily, without complaint.

Maybe it was a sign of recovery. Or maybe a craving.

I should ask next time. About the food. Or maybe the fruit itself.

He’d simply been sending the most expensive assortments from the department store’s food hall, not really paying attention to what kind.

This time, he decided, he would ask.

As he rested his chin on his hand, the car glided smoothly off the main road and into the hospital driveway.

“What fruits are in season now?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure. But perhaps we could bring something trendy—something college students like these days.”

They entered the elevator together, ascending to the VIP floor.

The lights there were soft and golden, the walls lined with geometric wallpaper worthy of a luxury hotel. Only a handful of Beta and Omega nurses were stationed there—personnel specifically assigned to Suhoe’s care.

Past them stretched a long, quiet corridor leading to his private room.

As Dowoon handed off his jacket, Haeon exchanged pleasantries with the staff.

“How has Madam been? No issues?”

“None at all, sir. There are usually some noisy patients at night, but Mr. Suhoe hasn’t rung the bell even once.”

Dowoon nodded, reassured.

He opened the door.

The hallway beyond was dimly lit, with a wide window that reflected the moonlight.

It was the first time he’d come this late—and only now did he realize just how silent the world became when night wrapped around this place.