I woke to emptiness.
The massive bed felt like a tomb without Charlie's oppressive heat beside me. My body still ached, but the crushing weight of yesterday's breakdown lingered heavier. I pushed myself up, ignoring the protest in my muscles, and slipped downstairs in search of Anna. She was the only anchor I had left in this nightmare.
One of the maids paused in the hallway, tray in hand. I asked before she could disappear. "Where's Anna?"
"Mr. Charlie took her out, sir," she answered quietly. "She was worried about her daddy. He didn't want her to wake you, so he took her with him."
"Oh. Okay. Do you know when they'll be back?"
"No, sir. I'm sorry."
I nodded, throat tight. "No problem."
I turned to head back upstairs when a voice stopped me cold.
"So it's really true. You're alive."
Junho stood at the entrance to the sitting room, eyes wide with disbelief that quickly sharpened into something darker. I shrugged, in no mood for ghosts from the past. I tried to walk away.
He grabbed my wrist.
Confusion flashed across my face, quickly followed by irritation. "Do you think you can just walk away?" he hissed.
"Listen, Junho. I'm not in the mood."
"Yes, yes — I can see you're alive. And not thanks to any of us, apparently."
"What are you talking about?" His grip tightened, confusion twisting his features.
I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "Do you really think you can play dumb? I'm the one who should be asking *you* that. After everything you've done—"
"Kim, you faked your death and ran. Do you have any idea what that did to people? Did you really think your death wouldn't hurt anyone?"
"Hurt?" The word tasted like poison. "After all *you* did? All of you?"
I tried to yank free, but he held on. "Listen, I'm not in the mood for this."
I was about to force my way past when his grip turned bruising.
From the doorway, Charlie's voice sliced through the air like a blade. "Let go of his hand. Now."
*Oh God. Here we go again.*
Why me? Why did the universe keep throwing me back into this fire every single time? I closed my eyes for a brief second, heart hammering with exhaustion and dread. Charlie's presence filled the room instantly — dark, commanding, and radiating barely leashed violence.
Junho released me, but not before shooting me one last loaded glare. Charlie crossed the space in three strides, his large hand replacing Junho's on my wrist — only this time the touch burned with possessive fire. He pulled me flush against his side, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, as if reminding me exactly who I belonged to now.
"Junho," Charlie said, voice low and dangerous, eyes never leaving mine even as he addressed the other man. "You don't touch what's mine. Ever."
The tension crackled between them, thick and suffocating. I could feel Charlie's heartbeat against me — steady, furious, protective in the most twisted way. His free hand came up to tilt my chin, forcing my gaze to his. The worry from yesterday still lingered there, but it was drowned beneath layers of dark obsession.
"My love," he murmured, soft enough for only me to hear, thumb brushing my jaw with deceptive gentleness. "You don't have to face any of them alone anymore. Not him. Not her. Not the past that tried to bury you." His grip tightened. "I'll make them all pay. Slowly."
Junho muttered something under his breath and retreated, but the damage was done. The walls of this mansion felt smaller, the secrets closing in tighter. Charlie's hold on me didn't loosen. If anything, it became more unyielding — a cage I was no longer sure I could escape.
And deep down, part of me wasn't certain I wanted to.