로그인For the first time in weeks... Adrian Wolfe left Wolfe Group before sunset. His destination wasn't another business meeting. It wasn't a shareholders' dinner. Nor was it one of the luxury events he used to attend almost every evening. Instead... He drove to the Wolfe Foundation. The annual charity gala was only a few weeks away, and Lydia had always insisted on personally overseeing every detail. After she left... No one had touched her plans. Curiosity—or perhaps guilt—had brought Adrian there. As he stepped into the foundation building, volunteers hurried through the lobby carrying boxes of books, school supplies, and event decorations. The atmosphere was busy... But warm. Nothing like the cold efficiency of the corporate headquarters. A familiar voice caught his attention: "Those scholarship files go to Conference Room B." "And don't forget the children's medical records." Adrian turned. Mia. She stood in the middle of the room, clipboard in hand, directing volunteers
Adrian had never imagined that one day... He would have to ask permission to see his own family. The black Rolls-Royce Phantom came to a stop in front of Eric Anderson's apartment building just before noon. The chauffeur glanced through the rearview mirror. "We're here, Mr. Wolfe." Adrian nodded absently. For several seconds, he remained seated. His fingers tightened around the small paper bag resting beside him. Inside were Hayes' favorite chocolate cookies. The only gift he hadn't bought from an expensive boutique. The only one he knew his son genuinely loved. Taking a deep breath, Adrian stepped out of the car. He looked up at the modest apartment building. Compared to the Wolfe penthouse... It was ordinary. Smaller. Far less luxurious. Yet somehow... Lydia had chosen this place over their home. The thought stung. *** A few minutes later... The apartment door slowly opened. It wasn't Lydia. Eric stood there. He looked slightly surprised but remained composed. "Adrian."
The Wolfe penthouse had always been impeccably managed. Every morning, the housekeepers followed the same routine: Fresh flowers were placed in crystal vases. Breakfast was prepared before sunrise. The children's playroom was cleaned before Hayes woke up. Everything had a place. Everything had a rhythm. That rhythm had been created by Lydia Wolfe. Even after she left... The staff continued following the routines she had established over the years. It was the only thing that made the empty penthouse feel remotely familiar. Until Sophie Hart arrived. *** "Good morning." Sophie walked into the penthouse wearing an elegant cream-colored dress, oversized sunglasses, and a confident smile. The butler, Mr. Han, greeted her politely. "Good morning, Miss Hart." She frowned. "Miss Hart?" Mr. Han blinked. "Yes, Miss." A small smile appeared on Sophie's lips, but it never reached her eyes. "You should probably start getting used to calling me something else." The butler looked puzzl
Adrian Wolfe had never been a man who chased after anyone. People came to him. Clients waited for his approval. Executives adjusted their schedules around his. Investors flew across continents just to secure a one-hour meeting. For thirty-five years, the world had taught him one lesson: Power meant never having to ask twice. But none of that power mattered when the person he wanted refused to answer his calls. *** The first call went unanswered. Adrian stared at his phone, convinced Lydia simply hadn't heard it. He waited five minutes before trying again. Voicemail. He frowned. Maybe she was putting Aurelia to sleep. Maybe she was bathing Hayes. Maybe... He tried again an hour later. Voicemail. Again before dinner. Voicemail. Again before midnight. Still... Voicemail. Adrian tossed his phone onto the sofa and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Lydia..." he whispered her name into the empty penthouse. "I just want to talk." The silence answered him. *** The nex
The penthouse had never been this quiet. Not even in the middle of the night. Not even during business trips when Lydia took the children to visit her mother. This silence was different. It wasn't peaceful. It was empty.*** The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Adrian Wolfe stepped into the private foyer, loosening his tie after another exhausting day at Wolfe Group. Usually, the moment he walked through the front door... He would hear tiny footsteps racing toward him. “Daddy!” Hayes would throw himself into Adrian's arms before proudly showing whatever he had built that day—Lego towers, dinosaur puzzles, or crooked drawings with too many colors. Then Lydia would appear from the kitchen, Aurelia cradled in her arms. “Wash your hands first. Dinner is almost ready." Those ordinary moments had once felt routine. Now... They felt priceless. Adrian unlocked the front door. The sound echoed through the spacious penthouse. No laughter greeted him. No little voice s
Three days had passed since Lydia left the Wolfe penthouse. For the first time in months... The house she was staying in was quiet. No arguments. No suspicious glances. No anonymous messages. No one questioning every word she spoke. Eric's apartment overlooked the Han River, its minimalist interior decorated in warm neutral tones. It wasn't nearly as luxurious as the Wolfe penthouse, but somehow... It felt lighter. Safer. Lydia stood by the kitchen window with a cup of tea in her hands, watching the city wake up. She hadn't realized how exhausted she truly was until she no longer had to defend herself every single day. Behind her, the sound of tiny footsteps echoed across the living room. "Uncle Eric!" Hayes came running toward the kitchen, holding two toy dinosaurs. "Can we play after breakfast?" Eric looked up from the frying pan and chuckled. "Only if you help me cook first." Hayes' eyes sparkled. "I can help!" "You can be my assistant chef." "I am?" "Absolutely."
The smooth, rhythmic hum of the high-speed document scanner was the only sound echoing through the minimalist executive suite of Hart Legal Chambers. Lydia Hart sat at the center of a massive, circular glass desk. The tailored gray silk blazers of her past survival era had been replaced by a sharp
The sleek, midnight-black AgustaWestland helicopter sheared through the heavy low-hanging fog of the Manhattan skyline, its rotors cutting the crisp night air with a rhythmic, thunderous roar. Inside the sound-insulated, leather-lined cabin, the soft amber dashboard lights cast long shadows over t
Adrian stood in the sterile, fluorescent glow of the hospital corridor, just outside the high-dependency unit. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his jacket discarded somewhere in the chaos. His white dress shirt was a ruin of sweat and soot, the collar frayed and blackened. Through the t
Adrian kept moving forward, straight into the space between himself and Harris Clarke, as if the gunshot had been nothing more than a door slamming somewhere far away. His momentum was a physical force, a tidal wave of redirected trauma and singular purpose.Harris blinked. Just once. That was all







