Madam Ha-eun wore power like silk—smooth, expensive, unyielding. The private room she'd chosen overlooked the Han River, a wall of smoked glass reflecting Seoul's glittering skyline, the city's pulse humming below. Around the table sat two politicians, a lawyer, and a former prosecutor, all leaning in, hungry for a taste of her favor.
She sipped her whiskey, let the pause stretch. "Gentlemen, you know as well as I do that these scandals aren't about guilt—they're about perception. Hanzenith was reckless. That's all. There's no reason the city's development plans should stall over one man's mistake. Especially when the right partners are ready to step in."
She slid a folder across the table—deeds, contracts, lists of newly distressed assets up for sale, many already marked with her holding company's watermark. The men leafed through them with practiced greed.
