Chapter 2 Back Then, and Now

chapter 2

Bri raised her hand, voice cutting through the noise:

"Open!"

The ball whizzed toward her—sharp, fast. It smacked clean into her palm with a satisfying thunk. She pivoted without thinking, instincts taking over.

She burst through the center like a spark through dry grass, shoes squeaking against the waxed gym floor. Jared lunged to block her, but she feinted left and cut right. He stumbled, arms flailing, hitting the hardwood with a grunt and a curse behind her.

Gasps echoed from the bleachers.

She didn’t look back.

Lucas loomed in her path, all elbows and aggression, but Bri threw a crossover so tight he barely saw the ball switch hands. He reached—too slow. She snapped a quick pass to Lee just before the double-team closed in.

Lee caught it, barely paused, then bounced it right back.

Everything narrowed. The court, the players, the noise—it all blurred as she took two strides, lifted off, and let the ball fly.

It kissed the backboard and dropped clean through the net.

Score.

For a heartbeat, the gym held its breath.

Then came the roar.

Her teammates erupted—sneakers stomping, voices rising in a chorus of whoops and claps. But Bri didn’t smile. Not yet. Her chest heaved from the run, a thin sheen of sweat cooling on her skin. She adjusted her glasses—still the same ones, though they sat more confidently now—and glanced toward the sidelines.

She gave a theatrical bow.

Laughter followed. Someone whistled.

"Team leader Ryeong!" a voice shouted.

"The GOAT!"

"She's on fire today!"

A cluster of teammates rushed her, jostling and cheering, their joy so infectious she finally laughed—genuine, unguarded—as she wiped the sweat from her brow with the hem of her jersey. Her laughter didn't sound like it used to. It was fuller now, easier.

Jared hauled himself up from the court, brushing off his shorts, mock-exasperated. “It’s literally unfair. You’re six feet tall, rich, and hot. Like—why are some people just born with all the cheat codes?”

Bri snorted. “You’d think that, right?” she said, tossing him a towel with a grin. “But trust me, it took years of therapy and a minor identity crisis in college to unlock this so-called cheat code.”

The group chuckled. Jared raised a brow. “Damn. That deep, huh?”

She shrugged. “Deep enough. Confidence isn’t free—it’s earned. The money? That’s all Dad. I’m just the daughter of a very bored businessman.”

Her smirk was playful, but there was an edge to it—old pain dulled by time, never quite gone.

Jared gave a low whistle. “Still got all the girls though, right?”

Bri grinned wider, mock-cocking her head. “I mean... now I do.”

Laughter scattered around them.

A whistle blew again—Lucas calling them back to resume there game.

Bri turned, tucking her hair behind one ear out of habit, though it no longer meant what it used to. She didn’t shrink into herself this time. She stepped forward, steady, smiling.

The game wasn’t over.

But the girl she used to be?

She’d long since left that version on a different court, in a different gym, surrounded by different eyes.

Steam still curled from her skin as Bri stood in front of her locker, towel slung over one shoulder, the metallic clink of a distant locker echoing through the mostly empty space.

Her fingers brushed the cool steel, but her eyes weren’t on it.

They were somewhere else.

Ten years back.

Zara. Whitney.

The sting of laughter that didn’t stop. The sound of locker doors slamming like punctuation marks on every insult. The feel of cold tile beneath her knees, glasses askew, heart hammering so loud she thought it might crack her ribs.

Bri’s chest tightened. Her jaw clenched.

Bang.

Her fist slammed against the locker.

The metal rang out, sharp and jarring. It rattled down the row in a wave of noise.

A short, startled scream snapped her back.

She turned quickly.

A few feet away, a young woman stood frozen near the showers, towel clutched tightly to her chest, eyes wide with alarm. Her damp hair clung to her neck, and water still dripped from her skin. She looked small, cornered, like a deer in headlights.

Bri blinked, heart still thudding—she fought to control her emotions. It wasn’t working, so she chose to focus on the girl in front of her.

"I'm so sorry," she said, letting her dimples show in the apologetic smile—the one she knew others found attractive. "Didn’t mean to scare you."

The woman’s tension eased slowly, her death grip on the towel loosening. Her large green eyes scanned Bri’s face—then the rest of her. She lingered.

Tall. Athletic. Broad-shouldered. Bare-faced. Wet strands of dark hair framed Bri’s sculpted features, and there was something intense in her gaze—focused, deliberate. Maybe even a little dangerous.

A flush crept up the stranger’s neck.

“N-no worries,” she stammered, eyes darting—briefly—to Bri’s collarbone before retreating back to her face.

Bri tilted her head slightly, something flickering behind her expression. That old ache hadn’t quite faded from her chest, but this feeling—being seen—always worked wonders to quell the rage and hurt that simmered deep inside. Yes, what she loved most was to feel desired while she held the reins of control and lust—never emotions.

Her gaze dropped to the stranger’s hands still gripping the towel. How her fingers trembled just slightly. The dampness of her skin. The way the steam wrapped around her shoulders like breath held too long.

Bri stepped back, just enough to give space—but not enough to break the charge in the air.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said more softly, voice like velvet dragged across glass. “You new here? To this gym, I mean.”

The woman nodded, tucking wet hair behind one ear, her blush deepening. “Yeah. I just moved to Vargo—really, it’s my first week in the big city. I—you startled me, but I’m okay.”

“Good to hear,” Bri murmured, taking a careful step closer, her eyes flickering with intent—and something unmistakably like lust.

They stood like that for a beat too long—stillness thick with heat and something unspoken. The memory of pain still clung to the edges of Bri’s mind, but it no longer owned the space. Something else had moved in. Warmer. Riskier.

The woman smiled, shy. “I’m Claire.”

Bri’s lips twitched upward. “Bai Ryeong. But most people call me Bri.”

Claire nodded slowly. “Nice to meet you... Bri.”

Their eyes locked. A breath passed between them.

The gym suddenly felt too quiet.

Too warm.

Lucas grumbled, “She’s lucky her dad’s our boss—but man, if we run any later, that excuse won’t save us from Mr. Ryeong. That old geezer already threatened to cut my pay once.”

Jared snorted. “Yeah, he overheard you colluding to corrupt his daughter into hitting the clubs during that planned work trip.”

Lucas nodded. “That was so embarrassing.”

Jared glanced up just in time to see a girl stumble out of the women’s locker room—cheeks flushed, hair sticking out wildly like she’d been spun through a dryer. She giggled to herself, dreamy-eyed, clutching a slip of paper like it was treasure—digits scrawled across it in perfect, curvy handwriting.

“I have a guess why Bri’s late,” he muttered enviously.

Lucas let out a low whistle. “How the hell does she do it, man? If I knew being a woman was the key to bagging all the hot girls, I’d have been born a Lucinda.”

Jared barked a laugh. “Please. You’re barely passing as a man. What makes you think you’d be hot as a woman?”

Lucas clutched his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. I’d find the female gaze. They love ugly chicks in gym shorts and a backwards cap.”

Lee emerged from the hallway, duffle slung over his dress shirt, and snorted. “You say that now, Lucinda, but I’m not buying it.”

Just then, Bri sauntered out, still buttoning her shirt, adjusting the cuffs of her tailored jacket. Her damp hair was pulled back, lips glistening with gloss she probably didn’t mean to put on until later. She’d clearly caught the tail end of the conversation.

“I shouldn’t be saying this,” she said with a smirk and a glance at Lucas, “but Lucinda would absolutely get it.”

Lee groaned. “Boss lady, really?”

Bri laughed, bumping shoulders with Lucas. “Come on. Women love women. So even if he had the same busted face, if he wore what he liked and owned it? And kept being the same funny idiot he is now? He’d bag every dreamy barista this side of Vargo.”

Lucas threw his head back, dramatic. “Why can’t I get them as a guy, though? I’m nice! I moisturize! I use eye contact!”

Bri gave him a long, theatrical look. “Being a guy just doesn’t cut it the way it used to. And being a woman? That’s always a little bit magic.”

They all laughed—the kind of laugh that comes easy when your body’s tired and your blood’s still humming from the gym. Jared tossed his empty protein bottle in the trash. Lucas fastened the cuffs of his oxford. Lee gave a decisive nod.

“Let’s go,” he yelled.

The air buzzed faintly with leftover endorphins and the smell of deodorant, floor cleaner, and something citrusy from Bri’s body spray.

They made their way back to the office, talking over each other, teasing, elbows bumping and voices loud.

It had been a good lunch break.

Calories burned.

Hearts lighter.

Now, the rhythm of the office had settled into its late-afternoon hum. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of Bri’s corner suite, the city of Vargo stretched endlessly—glass towers reflecting the waning sun, streets buzzing with color and movement. From twenty-six stories up, the chaos looked almost serene.

The skyline glowed with the flush of golden hour. A soft orange hue spilled across the office’s sleek surfaces—marble floors, glass partitions, brushed steel accents. The sun painted warmth over cold luxury.

Bri sat behind her curved walnut desk, eyes skimming a report on her tablet. Q3 results. A slow smile curved her lips.

The revenue projections were through the roof. Every project she’d led was still under budget, and sales numbers were climbing at a pace that would make even her father’s old-guard boardroom skeptics blink twice.

Her phone pinged.

A quick glance.

Gym girl.

Bri bit her lip, amused. She liked the way that girl moaned—begged—and she was starting to toy with the idea of adding her to the regular roster. Just casual fun, no strings. A reward for a good day’s work.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard to reply—

A knock at the door cut through the moment.

“Come in,” she murmured, slipping her phone face-down on the desk.

The door opened to reveal Madam Yu—her father’s longtime assistant. Impeccably dressed, hair in a smooth chignon, not a single crease on her silk blouse.

“Young miss,” she said, voice as calm and polished as always, “the chairman wishes to see you.”

Bri stood, smoothing her jacket. “Madam Yu, you should go home. Don’t let my dad keep you running around this late.”

Madam Yu let out a hearty laugh, the kind that softened her formal exterior. As they stepped into the private elevator together, she reached up and gave Bri’s cheek a playful pinch.

“Don’t talk nonsense. I’ve been wrangling that man since before you were born. Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t sass him into an early retirement.”

In truth, Madam Yu had always felt more like a mother than her own. Ever since Bri moved in with her father—leaving behind a quiet, small-town life and a mother who preferred solitude—this woman had stepped into the empty spaces without ever overstepping. Gentle when needed, sharp when it mattered.

As the elevator glided upward to the executive floor, Bri caught a glimpse of their reflections in the polished chrome. Herself: tall, sharp-suited, composed. And Madam Yu beside her, small but unshakable.

The sun continued to sink behind the skyline, casting long shadows through the glass-walled corridors above.

Showtime.

Once inside her father’s office, Bri bowed politely—habitual, respectful, automatic. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and aged leather. Her father sat behind his monolithic desk, face as stormy as the skyline behind him. She caught Madam Yu’s eye as the secretary pulled the door closed behind her, and winked.

Privacy.

Bri straightened, folding her arms loosely. What now? She hadn’t pissed off this man in weeks—months, actually—so the grumpy expression made her pause. He’d just come back from a vacation with his wife and her son, all smiles on social media. Yet here he is, she thought, returning from paradise with thunder in his eyes.

"Father," she said softly, pulling up the sales projections on her tablet. "Before you scold me, at least let me show you the quarterly estimates. You’ll see—"

He cut her off with a deep sigh.

“Bai. This old man won’t stay young forever, you know.”

She schooled her face into dutiful composure. “Father, this unruly daughter will shoulder your burdens. Please, grow old in peace.”

“Ashh,” he waved a hand. “Look at this child, already trying to push me out of my own company.”

Bri smirked, arching a brow. “Didn’t you see the numbers? When the time comes, I’ll take your place effortlessly.”

That earned a warm laugh. For a moment, his pride showed through—open, genuine. But it flickered. Faded.

"You know..." he began, voice quieter now, "your brother’s wife gave our Ryeong family a granddaughter. That makes two now. A grandson and a granddaughter."

Bri smiled tightly. “I know. I sent a gift. I’ll be sure to visit my—” she caught herself, “—stepbrother and his family soon. It’s just been... busy.”

He nodded. “I won’t berate my child for holding down the fort while Chen Long and I were away. You did good.”

That should’ve felt better than it did.

“But your mother and I—”

“She’s not my mother,” Bri interrupted, too fast, too sharp. “She’s my stepmother.”

He waved her off like it was a gnat. “Anyway, we got talking about the future. I told her you’re my heir. Of course, I want my little beans to get their share too.”

Bri’s smile thinned. “Dad, you know I don’t covet what’s yours. You raised me with capable hands, strong legs, and a brain that actually works. If I want something, I’ll earn it.”

He chuckled. “That’s my girl. That’s why you’re perfect to lead this company.”

But then—

His eyes shifted. Something steeled in them.

“I need an heir, Bai. A real heir. I don’t mind your—” he waved vaguely, “—your preferences. Women, suits, all that. But biology is what it is. I must name Yu Long Ryeong as my heir.”

Bri blinked.

“Yu Long... is not even two years old,” she said, voice brittle. “And you’re making him my competition?”

“Silly daughter,” he said gently, “I would never do that. I want you as Director of Operations. Chen Long will be sitting chairman until Yu is ready to take over. You’ll have full control of day-to-day operations. It’s all formality.”

Bri’s throat tightened.

“Dad,” she said slowly, “I won’t have Chen Long be my boss. I’ve given everything to this company. For us. For you. And now you want an outsider—your wife’s son—to take over?”

His expression hardened. “Don’t twist this. Chen Long won’t be your boss. No child of mine answers to anyone. But someone has to guide the future until Yu is of age. You’ll still run the ship.”

“What then, Father?” she snapped, storming across the room. Her heels echoed off the marble. “What then? I pour my soul into this company for the next twenty? Or thirty years, and when your precious grandson is old enough, I get pushed aside? My legacy becomes his?”

He sighed. “In thirty years, you’ll want to retire. You’ll want peace. Trust your old man. You’ll understand, one day, the joy of seeing the next generation take over.”

But Bri didn’t want peace.

She wanted respect. Recognition. Control.

Without another word, she turned and stormed from the office.

The burn in her chest spread to her throat. Rage simmered beneath her skin. Her jaw ached from holding it too tight. She ignored Madam Yu’s soft voice calling after her, ignored the friendly staff offering their goodnights as she passed the executive wing.

No one stopped her.

She didn’t want to cry. But fury always had a way of bringing the tears close.

And she would not cry in a building that might one day belong to someone else.