Claire stepped out of the car in front of Lee Group headquarters, the towering glass facade gleaming under a pale morning sun. The building reflected the city skyline like a perfect, untouchable shield, its surface as cold and flawless as the man who summoned her. The brightness felt wrong in her chest, too polished for the storm that had been brewing in her mind since last night.
She had dressed like she was going into battle. A charcoal-gray suit that fit like armor, hair pinned into a sleek twist that revealed nothing of her mood, makeup precise but understated. This wasn't about looking pretty; this was about showing she could match the weight of any room Evan Lee Hyunsik walked into.
The lobby was a cathedral of power. Marble floors polished to a mirror sheen reflected every step she took. The air-conditioning kissed her skin with a manufactured chill, and the faint scent of lilies drifted from the massive floral arrangement in the center. Conversations quieted when she passed. Some recognized her. Others simply stared, drawn to the confidence in her stride.
Kangwoo was waiting near the private elevator, crisp and unflappable in a navy suit. His phone was in his hand, his eyes cool. "Miss Yoo," he greeted, giving her the kind of nod that acknowledged her presence but not her authority. He pressed the elevator button without being asked.
"I see Mr. Lee keeps you on permanent standby," she said as she stepped in.
"That's my job," he replied, his tone even, eyes on the floor indicator.
The elevator rose in silence. The mirrored walls reflected her upright posture, her chin tilted high. She kept her gaze forward, refusing to let the quiet press her into speaking first.
When the doors opened, Evan's office came into view…sleek modern lines softened by understated luxury. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling glass, bathing the space in a warm glow that only made the black marble of his desk more imposing.
He didn't look up immediately. His pen moved across the page in neat, deliberate strokes, each line final and precise. "You're on time," he said finally. "That's a good start."
"I wasn't aiming to impress," she replied, setting her bag on the chair opposite him.
Evan's gaze lifted, scanning her as if committing details to memory. "And yet, here you are."
"I'm here because you said you wanted to discuss terms," she reminded him. "So let's discuss."
He set the pen down, folding his hands. "Terms don't matter without trust."
She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Trust? You send me a necklace with a note like I'm your property, and now you want trust?"
"That wasn't about the necklace," he said, voice calm. "It was a test. To see if you understood presentation. In my world, appearances decide deals before anyone speaks."
"I'm not part of your world," she shot back.
"You will be," he said, leaning back. "If you want to save your father's company."
Her jaw tightened. "You use him like a bargaining chip. It's pathetic."
"It's effective," he countered, unbothered. "And you haven't walked away."
The silence between them stretched, heavy as steel. He reached for a folder and slid it across the desk.
Inside were photographs, industry galas, charity banquets, shareholder meetings. Evan stood in each one, surrounded by people whose names she didn't know but whose power was obvious in the way they carried themselves. In the most recent photos, there was a deliberate space at his side.
"That's where you'll be," he said. "Not just in name. You'll stand beside me where people can see you."
"I'm not interested in being decorative."
"Good," he said without hesitation. "Because this isn't decoration. It's positioning."
She closed the folder. "Positioning for what?"
"That's for me to know." His tone was unyielding. "For now, understand this…being seen with me changes how people deal with you. It makes them careful."
Her mind flashed to Kangwoo's words the night before…it's about being seen. This wasn't about her at all. It was about leverage, about the influence he could wield by choosing who stood next to him.
"Claire," Evan continued, his voice dipping lower, "you can hate me all you want. That won't change the fact that this will protect you. For one year, you'll be untouchable. Your father's company will recover. You'll leave with more than you had when you started."
"And if I refuse?"
"You already know the answer," he said simply.
The truth was, she did. Deals like this didn't leave space for graceful exits.
She stood, pushing the folder back toward him. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
Evan's gaze followed her as she turned toward the elevator. "Tomorrow," he said. "But don't mistake patience for weakness. I don't wait twice."
She didn't look back. She stepped into the elevator, the doors closing on his unreadable expression. Only when the walls sealed her in did she let her shoulders drop slightly.
Outside, the wind had picked up, bringing with it the faint scent of oncoming rain. She passed the waiting car, choosing the anonymity of the crowded sidewalk instead. She needed the noise of strangers to drown out the weight of his voice.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. No name. No greeting. Just five words:
You have less time now.
She stopped walking. The street noise faded into a low, distant hum. Whoever sent it not only knew exactly where she was, they wanted her to know they were watching. And that, more than anything Evan had said, made her realize one thing.
The clock had already started ticking.