4. New CEO

"Oh, Ma’am, good morning. Sorry to startle you," That woman said warmly, her smile radiating kindness.

"No, no... but you..." I trailed off, confusion etched on my face.

Her expression turned apologetic. "I'm Yoo Minmin, the housekeeper. You can call me Auntie Yoo or something. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to welcome you yesterday; I had to visit my hometown. I returned late, missing your arrival."

"I thought Baekhoon and I were the only ones here," I admitted, still perplexed.

Auntie Yoo nodded graciously. "I work part-time, Ma’am, from morning till afternoon. Would you like breakfast now?"

"I'll help Auntie Yoo first," I said.

"But, Ma’am..." she trails off.

"Why not? I genuinely want to help. You're shouldering the burden of cleaning this enormous mansion alone – it must be exhausting. Let me assist you, Auntie Yoo."

Auntie Yoo's reluctance fades, and she nods. She lets me join her in the kitchen, where I struggle to keep up. Though cooking isn't my forte, I manage to prepare basic dishes and steaming hot rice.

"Auntie Yoo, what does Baekhoon actually do for work?" I inquire.

Normally, a wife wouldn't ask about her husband's profession, but our marriage defies convention. I'm consumed by curiosity: What does Baekhoon do? Does he merely indulge in extravagant nights, squandering mysterious fortunes? The truth is, I've never known him to hold a job.

Auntie Yoo's expression transforms into stunned surprise. "You don't know, Ma’am?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

I force a nervous laugh, feeling embarrassed. "Baekhoon never mentioned his profession to me, oddly enough. As his wife, I should be the first to know, shouldn't I?"

“Young Master is surprisingly secretive, even to his own wife. Odd, considering I've worked here nearly five years... I've no idea what he does or where, yet he's bought this estate and luxury cars without President’s aid."

"Really?" I asked, astonished.

"Could it be... he's making his fortune through nightlife or... something more sinister?" I whispered — suspicion creeping in.

"Ma'am, please don't think that way! He's not that kind of person. He is lonely every day, going out almost every night and returning home early morning, drunk," Auntie Yoo said sorrowfully. "I thought he'd never marry, heartbroken from his past love, but thankfully he found you, Ma’am."

Eyes locked on Auntie Yoo, I probe gently, "Auntie Yoo, does Baekhoon ever bring men here? Or anyone, for that matter?"

Auntie Yoo's gaze pierces mine, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ma'am, Young Master isn't like that. Despite rumors of his unconventional nature, it seems he's hiding deep wounds."

"Is it because of Shela?" I whispered, my suspicion about Baekhoon's past confirming itself.

Auntie Yoo's voice drops to a whisper, her lips grazing my ear. "You know her, Ma’am?"

Before I can respond, a deep male voice interrupts from outside the kitchen, "What are you two gossiping about so early?"

Baekhoon appears unexpectedly, settling into his seat at the dining table with an air of quiet command. He folds his arms, his eyes narrowing into a piercing glare, his legs crossed in relaxed disdain.

Baekhoon's voice cuts through the tension, "Auntie Yoo, never speak about me to her again, or you're fired." He sips his coffee, his gaze lingering menacingly.

Auntie Yoo trembles, "Yes, Sir. Sorry." She hastily returns to her tasks, subdued.

-o0o-

The next day, I slip back into my routine, returning to work after a brief hiatus for my secretive marriage and honeymoon. I wouldn't dare reveal the real reason for my absence to my colleagues; they'd mock me mercilessly.

I slink to my desk like a thief, hiding my face behind my bag, terrified of being recognized. After all, my marriage to Byun Baekhoon made headlines everywhere. I dread being identified as Baekhoon's wife, despite my drastically different bare-faced appearance. Please, God, let my plain face remain anonymous.

When a reporter asked my name during the press conference, I swiftly replied with the alias provided by the Director President: Jasmine Lee, a high-powered London career woman. President had gone so far as to purchase someone else's identity to facilitate our ruse.

As a design assistant, my salary barely covers living expenses for Dongju and me. After Dongju's illness, our funds dwindled. But thanks to President's timely assistance, that burden has been lifted. Our marriage arrangement came with an unexpected blessing – Dongju's been sent to America for critical medical treatment.

My heart aches with longing — I sincerely pray for his recovery.

As I settle into my chair, I exhale in relief; no one recognizes me. Just then, three coworkers, notorious for their insatiable appetite for gossip, saunter over, coffee cups in hand, giggling and beaming. Their eyes sparkle with intrigue, fueling my anxiety.

"The new CEO is here!" Shesqueals.

"He's absolutely divine!" Another chimes in.

"When he smiled at me earlier, my heart literally skipped a beat!" Their eyes sparkle with excitement.

"I'm consumed by jealousy," the third confesses. "What's your secret? How did you capture his attention?"

"Even if Byun Baekhoon is gay, a man that gorgeous? I'd still want him," she coos.

"That stunning man is irresistible. His sexuality doesn't matter; everyone's obsessed with him."

"Exactly! He's the epitome of perfection."

They swarm around my desk, one leaning casually against the partition, chatting animatedly.

Has Byun Baekhoon arrived? What's the buzz? Did he really ask President for money, as rumors suggest?

But Auntie Yoo insisted Baekhoon hasn't touched President's money since his breakup. There's definitely more to this story.

The trio's animated chatter fills the air as they dissect Byun Baekhoon's life.

"But I heard he's married," one says, raising an eyebrow.

"His wife is stunning, haven't you seen the news?" another chimes in.

"Yeah, absolutely breathtaking! I'm seething with envy," the third confesses, her voice dripping with longing.

“If only I were slightly prettier, would he consider me instead?" Their speculative whispers swirl around me.

"Beautiful? That's just flawless makeup and editing magic," she said skeptically.

“Maybe she's had plastic surgery."

"Oh, that's probably true," her friend agrees.

I feel pierced by my friends' sharp words. They showered me with praise, but now they're tearing me down. Editing, plastic surgery, or just good makeup? Their cutting remarks echo in my mind, fueling self-doubt.

Am I truly beautiful? I wonder, questioning my natural charm. But I swiftly reaffirm my self-worth. I'm stunning, inside and out, no enhancements needed. With renewed confidence, I face them.

Sorry, girls, but my beauty speaks for itself.