บททั้งหมดของ My Pretty Husband: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

The secrets. The exhaustion. The marriage I can’t explain. The lies I’ve told to keep people safe. The pieces of me I’ve been giving away just to make it through each day. I carry the bag outside, my fingers aching as the plastic digs into my palms. The sky is overcast, and the air smells like rain is coming. Everything feels too quiet. Too still.I walk down the path toward the temporary disposal site near the house, each step slow, dragging. The bag thuds against my leg with every movement, a dull reminder of how much I’m carrying. And for a brief second, I wonder — what would happen if I just dropped everything?Let it all go. But I can’t. Because Dongju is waiting. Because this is my life now. Because if I don’t keep going… who will? Ugh… it’s so hot today. I reach into the pocket of my jacket to check how much money I have left. Not much — but enough, maybe, for a cold drink from the mini market. After dumping the trash, I head straight there and grab a bottle of mineral water fro

She doesn’t even flinch. “I told you — I’m doing this for my daughter.”“For your daughter?” I echo with a scoff. “I’m amazed you still have the audacity to say you have a heart. After what you did to my brother? You’re lucky I haven’t handed you to the police.”Her eyes flash. “Don’t you dare bring that up.”“Touch my brother again,” I growled, voice rising, “and I swear I’ll—”“You’re still the same rude little brat,” she snapped. “Just like your mother. Is this how she raised you?”My hands clench into fists behind me. “A woman like you doesn’t deserve any respect from me. And as for my mother — she had more dignity in her smallest gesture than you’ve ever had in your entire life.”Her nostrils flare. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you and your brother,” she hissed. “I could’ve. Don’t forget that.”“And you’re lucky I didn’t report you for murder,” I fire back. “You killed my father. Don’t bother denying it. You married him for his money. And when you were done using him, you—”Her lau

But he never existed, did he?Only the predator. The mastermind. The prince of business. And me? I was nothing more than his blueprint for destruction. Is this what they call a conspiracy?Without me realizing it, Baekhoon has been in cahoots with Auntie Kim all along — setting me up from the very beginning. JV Group isn’t even the real player here. They’re just pawns, following orders. Orders from Baekhoon.They never bought my design. There was no actual transaction. No official agreement. Just a fabricated confession, fake receipts, and a manufactured lie that I was the one who sold the design outside. They forged everything — every single piece of “evidence.”The truth? The design was never sold. It still belongs to BBH. It still belongs to HK Group. It was never mine to sell, and no one even claimed it until Baekhyun turned it into a weapon. He used it against me. He framed me. He made me the villain in a story he wrote himself.And then he let me suffer. He let me pay back that r

It’s late afternoon. I lock myself in my room, refusing to deal with Baekhoon. Just thinking about his face makes me feel sick. He’s a liar. A manipulative, controlling liar. God, my head’s spinning. I can’t keep hiding in here forever. He might be home by now — it’s about the time work ends. Then suddenly—“Yongju! Lee Yongju! Open the door!”BANG! BANG! BANG!Baekhoon.Shit.He’s home.His voice is loud — sharpened with anger — and his fists hit the door like he’s ready to tear it off its hinges.BANG! BANG! BANG!“YONGJU! I know you’re in there! Don’t make me break this door down!”“Tch. So loud,” I mumbled.Of course he’s pissed. The house was a mess, no food, no laundry. I’ve been gone. He’s going to unload everything on me. Fine. Let him. I yank the door open — ready to snap back — but he grabs my arm before I can say a word. His grip is rough, bruising, like he wants to make sure I know who’s in control.“Hey—!” I protested, but he drags me down the hall like I’m nothing but dead

I plate the fried rice in silence and set it down in front of him. He doesn’t say thank you — of course he doesn’t. He picks up his spoon and starts eating like this is just another normal night. I stand there, unsure if I’m supposed to stay or walk away. He chews slowly. Swallows. Then says, without looking up, “Your face still looks bad.”I stiffen. My eyes flick toward the hallway. Maybe I should’ve walked away. “I told you,” I replied flatly, “I fell off a bike.”Baekhoon finally looks up. His eyes are calm, but there's something sharp behind them. “I’ve seen what falling looks like,” he said between bites. “That didn’t look like a fall.”I cross my arms, shifting my weight. “What do you want me to say? That I got into a fight?”His lips twitch like he’s amused. “Did you?”“No.”A beat of silence.“Then tell me who did it,” he said, still eating like this is a casual chat.“There’s nothing to tell.”He sets the spoon down. Leans back in the chair. “You’re lying.”I don’t respond.