050

JEON

"Tch."I wipe the smoky barrel against my sleeve—still warm. Just like her touch. Just like the heat between her thighs when she arches against me, unwilling but waking.

My wife.Now She's out of my eyesight with my offsprings.

The thought coils deep in gut—hot, possessive, dangerous.

The bastard laying infront not so cocky like last time but groveling on floor, blood pooling from his nose, soaking into the African rug—imported. Expensive. Now ruined. With his Filth.

He whimpers something unintelligible through broken teeth.

I don’t flinch. Don’t blink.My men stand like statues—waiting for one nod to end him completely.

But no…

Not yet.

She wouldn't want that… would she?

Wouldn't want me to kill the man who helped her run?

The truth claws u—she thinks she hates this place… hates me..

But every time I take her—slow or rough —her body remembers before her mind does.

And Lucas? Mine.Fully.Legally.Just like she is now —

"Boss—" Wooshik starts, gun still aimed at Park’s head.

I raise a finger—lean back toward the ceiling—the faintest sounds of footsteps above.

She’s moving.Breathing.Nursing my son in my house, on my bed, under my rules.

Sigh.I tuck the revolver in—

"clean this mess."

"Yes boss"

—the soft coos and babbles drift down through silence…Right now, she's feeding what's mine....and soon...she'll feed me too.No more sunlight for you either...wife.

They carries park outside.

Silence.

The whole living room in silence as usual.

I exhale—slow, deliberately—the smoke curls like a whisper. Heavy. Final.

Room stays frozen, my men rooted like shadows cast in blood and loyalty.

The stairs—the spot where she stood with Lucas in her arms and looked down at me one last time before vanishing upstairs.

Sigh.

I lean back, ash flicks on the carpet, i can't look away from the spot where she stood. The imprint of her fear lingers. The warmth of her body long gone but her smell is still here. Milk and salt.Panic and perfume.

The bloodstain carpet now cleaned by my men—kneeling like servants—like trained dogs, just how I trained them.

"Boss—" Wooshik breaks the silence "Umm, do you really think the Scorpions are involved?"

I take another drag, his nerdy glasses reflecting the room's light. "No."

"Wha—" He looks confused, "then why didn't you kill Park before? If you knew he was lying?"He adjusts his nerdy glasses , which almost falling from his nose.Smoke curls up— The man is loyal, I'll give him that. But his brain is just as irritating as his glasses.

I take another drag"Are you questioning me?"

His eyes widen, throat bobs, quickly shake his head. "No, no, of course not boss—"

"Then shut the hell up."

He shuts his mouth, head dropping—nervous tick.

Good.

Let him sweat.

Room frozen.

I stare back at the empty staircase, where my wife was moments ago.Silence now.Just her phantom footsteps still ringing in my ears. Sometimes its better to keep your territory in check… A stream of smoke exhale in air.

"Boss-?" Minho mumbles.

I take another drag from.

Power isn't just held...It's seen.

Another drag.

The ash trembles—then falls.

People forget in silence.But pain?.... Pain echoes.

She’s upstairs hearing every scream, I let bleed through these walls on purpose.

Let her listen.Let her know what happens to those who touch what’s mine and lie about it.

Park didn’t help her out of kindness...He did it because he thought, she could win.

My fingers flex —how soft her waist felt under my thumb.How she trembled when Lucas called her “mama” right in front of me like they were never apart.

Like she wasn’t stolen from me for three months.

And now?

Now they’re both right here, where they belong—A last brunt drag.Under lock… under light… under me.I crush the cigarette into crystal ashtray with force.

"Boss—what about the scorpions?"

I glance toward the ceiling again —"I don’t believe in Scorpions... not yet."

Hearing faint whimper? Or is that just Lucas?

No…

That was her.Breathing fast after all that noise below…

Good girl.

"But if they want a war?" Minho asks quietly.

I close my eyes. "Then use their ashes as welcome mat"

I don't move.

Just sit.

Eyes closed. Back against the leather. hand on the cold armrest— veins crawling up like snakes under skin.

"B-Boss—" Jisun stammers "she... Mrs. Jeon... she got scared."

I open one eye—"And who are you?...My mother in law?"

He flinches. Takes a step back. "N-no boss—I just meant—Park was bleeding in front of her and you know she... she's Pregnant."

I close my eyes.Thats what she is, a womb filled with my sperms.

One beat.Then another.I exhale.

Pregnant.

My seed is growing inside her.

She can run.Can scream.

But every child she will bear gonna be mine by blood and law—and I’ll make sure this city bows when they hear their names one day…

She's trembling now?—Good.

Let her feel it—the weight of what happens when someone goes against me and dares to call it freedom.

Then let her lie awake tonight with my son beside her, feeling this new life flutter beneath skin… knowing who put it there…

No doctor will touch her unless I approve.No hospital will take her name without fearing retaliation if they breathe wrong about where she went or why she bled...

This isn't cruelty—It's control wrapped in devotion only men like me understand.

"Tell Minho...double guards outside my bedroom."  I close my eyes—"If someone knocks after midnight…"

"—shoot first."

FLASHBACK

Rain hammers the concrete like bullets.Air thick with smoke, screams muffled under thunder.The revolver warm in hand.

Her.—drenched, trembling in that white dress on her knees.Rain slashes, slicing through shadows like knives. Wind howls over glass windows.

She's tied at the wrists with black silk—my signature touch. Not because she fought—but because she tried to run toward the fire.

Toward freedom.

Stupid girl.

Her hair sticks to her face like ink trails. Lips trembling—not from cold… from rage.

“You think you can walk away from me?”

She lifts her head—eyes blazing. “I’ll, im not yours!”

I step forward — her breath hitches. Polished shoes leaving no trace om expensive carpet.

Slowly—i tuck hair behind her ear.Then slap—Her head snaps sideways.Blood drips from split lip onto collarbone... then down between breasts hidden beneath white dress.

I pull her chin up—our eyes meet. “Say.  that . again.”

She spits on my face.Saliva mixes with rain as it slides down my cheek…

“You don't own me!” she growls, voice raw against wind—"i will...i’ll burn you alive!”

Silence—heavy as death itself.

My men don’t move outside. Don’t breathe. They know what comes next isn't punishment…

It’s claiming.

I wipe the spit-blood mix with thumb... then bring it to my mouth.Suck it clean without breaking eye contact."Delicious."

She gulps—

I lean down lips brush hers “I don’t own you....I am you now.” And slam my lips—Hard.Violent.She gasps.Full of warning and promise both wrapped into one bruising second where time splits clean down the middle: before… and after…

When I pull back?

She’s breathless.Lips split slightly—from impact or teeth or mine crushing hers—I don’t know. Don’t care.

And when she screams?It doesn't matter who hears...

The city burns behind us as two shadows merge in one beneath sheets—

From that night:No more choices given.No more voices heard except mine when she cries out beneath sheets soaked not just with sweat—but surrender, chained naked on silk sheets—while guards stood outside listening to her every broken moan…How sweetly she called me “Jeon” instead of silence?

Then she stopped fearing violence, She already carrying it inside.

[End Flashback]

Present —

Sigh.

Eyes still closed…hand resting low on abdomen—living room silent again—i thumb my lower lip still remembering how soft she tasted when rain mixed salt blood smoke all together.

She will carry my name between legs—and soul—in every life we make together…

"Boss"  "maybe Park wasn’t totally wrong," Jisun mumbles.

I take a slow drag, Eyes half-lidded— smoke curling like a serpent around silence.

"Scorpions... their movements lately—too bold."

The room tenses.Wooshik leans in "How?"

"They’ve tried hitting our clubs, warehouses, Even the blast at the weapon factory last month… and we found three of their men near the cruise docks. Disguised as crew."

Scorpions. Again.

Wooshik shifts nervously beside him. “Boss… you want us to strike back?”

I exhale—long, controlled —“No.”

Jisun hesitates. "But boss—they’re getting bolder. Park wasn’t lying about that—"

I glance at him.

He shuts instantly.

Silence.

"Keep an eye on them—Take care of it your own."

He nods "Yes boss"—"But boss—if Uncle Park was involved with them, then…um then maybe Mrs Jeon was—"

My eyes lock on him—his face pales."Do. You. Know. What . You. Are . Talking. About?"

"I...i.. just..boss-"

"Do. You. Know?"

Jisun shuts up. Looks down. Trembling— "Im...im sorry boss."

My fingers tighten around the armrest. Leather creaks like bone under pressure.

The room still—not a breath, not a shift in stance.

All of them looking down, not meeting my eyes.I lean back, take another drag—slow, deliberate.

Smoke fills my burning lungs.I don't care if she’s tangled with my rivals.

If her hands are stained with their words… their plans… their promises.

If her heart still beats for rebellion.

She’s mine.

Legally.Physically.Breathing under my roof, carrying my child, sleeping in the bed I gave her.

Wedding ring or no wedding ring—this city knows whom she's belong to.The world knows.

And if she tries to kill me?

Good.

Let her plan.Let her plot in silence while nursing Lucas against her chest—let her think she can hide the hate in her eyes when she looks at me—I'll handle all myself.

But—She doesn’t get to leave.

I flick ash into the tray, eyes fixed on the ceiling once more...Where she is right now—with my son, in my bed, surrounded by walls built from fear and power. I exhale.

"If she wants war inside these sheets?" —"Then let it be our war alone."Eyes blur beneath half-lidded lids.

Silence.

"Boss, should we take over Park's businesses or—"

"Sell them."

"But boss— inherently it's your families and-"

"He is not my family!—Not my blood. Sell it."

A beat.

"Y-Yes boss…"

Park is an outsider. He was never part of us.

Never blood.Never loyalty—just A stray. Not Jeon's. Never really family even if he carried our name—just convenience wrapped in a bloodline he thought protected him.

His existence doesn't matter.Or, it didn't matter…

The cold leather pressing against my neck like a silent noose.

The name "Park" means nothing now.

No respect.No inheritance.No mourning.

He lied.And he thought forgiveness would come because of blood?

Pathetic.

My head tilts back, eyes closing into the cool, plush leather"Sell every damn business by dawn" "Auction off the cars, the land… even that damn golf courses and donate everything out."

"Yes boss"

Sigh.

His existence never bothered me much before until he dared to touch what's mine, tried to aid for my wife's escape.

Until that word "Scorpion" leaves his lips in my own home.He held her hand and whispered lies about freedom like she wasn’t born to be caged by me.

He brought this on himself.

—I take a drag—deep."...and Max?"

"Sir?

"Burn his favorite cars before you donate anything else."

A beat—

"Y-Yes, boss."

Outside, the city hums.Distant sirens, Businesses as usual under Jeon rule.

But upstairs?

Silence.Darkness behind closed doors.My boy breathing soft beside her, suckling from my woman’s breast…

Burn coils low in my gut—possessive, thick.

Is she gentle with him?

Does her voice go soft—the same one that screamed at me for not to touch her?Or does she cry while feeding him… knowing every drop of milk is paid for in fear and silence?

"Good mother" I murmur into smoke —She doesn’t know it yet—but there’s no escape.No lawyer strong enough to pull her out of this marriage. No court will ever challenge the papers now—Another drag.

Let her play innocent.Let her pray at night for strength—

I’ll take it all anyway...

Because soon, She won't remember a life before my name.Before my ring around her finger—and

Click—the door opens.

"Boss—the France project is under control."

My eyes open.

Minho slides a file across the desk—smooth, silent."France is under control. All parties agreed to our terms." He hesitates. "Except Henry."—

I exhal — Henry... that school boy.

Minho flips open the file, pulls out a photo — polished face, young, smug. Ivy League suit. Hair too neat. Smile like he’s never seen real fear. Minho flips pages as Henry's pictures at some gala, smug beside champagne flutes and fawning girls too rich to know better. Smiling like this world plays by rules instead of power.

Minho stays silent.

"...tell more."

"Boss..." he swallows. Nervous."He was the one involved with Uncle Park and He... he is Mrs Jeon's cousin—"

Cousin? This is new.

So now my wife has a cousin too. Great.

Minho stands there, file still in hand,  "He was working with Uncle Park for a while, Helped her escape... arranged the border route. Private jets under fake names." He closes the file "Boss, He's been one step ahead."

I lean back— slow—leather creaks.

Henry... not just some schoolboy playing businessman.I take another drag. "You know what you have to do, right?"

Minho hesitates—a flicker in his eyes. But then—He nods slightly and walks out with others.

The door shuts behind them— silent—as a coffin lid.

I take the photo left on desk—Henry’s smug face staring at me like he belongs somewhere soft and safe...

Fool boy thinks this is chess.

Her cousin.

Crush the cigarette—slow—on top of his face.

"Your dear cousin will meet my uncle for permanently....little lawyer"

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