All Chapters of The Price of Hidden Sins: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The warehouse reeked of rust and damp rot. It was the kind of place where bad things happened—cement floors cracked with age, a leaking roof overhead, and a few flickering neon lights that cast long, twitching shadows across the empty crates and metal beams. Dust hung in the air, glittering faintly like ash.In the center of the space, chaos unfolded.Mark was a blur of movement. His fists were raw, knuckles bleeding as he drove them again and again into the thick bodies of the four men before him. The men didn’t fight back. They barely moved. One of them staggered with each blow, blood trailing down from a split lip, another keeled over as Mark’s knee collided with his ribs. But none of them lifted a hand to defend themselves.Off to the side, a man in his late fifties stood slumped near a stack of crates, half-hidden in the shadows. His shirt—a gaudy leopard-print button-up—was soaked in sweat. Both his arms were inked to the wrist, veins protruding as he clenched his fists. But he

Ashley sat across from Josh in the dim glow of the late afternoon, the television flickering silently in the background, casting shifting colors across their faces. The blinds were half-closed, slicing the sunlight into golden bars that lay across the floor and furniture like ribbons of fading warmth. Their living room, usually a space of idle comfort, felt suspended in a strange, weighty stillness. There was no music, no hum of casual conversation—only the faint rustle of steam rising from the two cups of tea on the coffee table.Josh cleared his throat. “So... how are you feeling? After the basement incident, I mean?”He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, both hands cradling his cup as if it could warm more than just his fingers. His voice was low, careful, but his eyes betrayed him—dark with concern, clouded by something deeper. Ashley sat back against the cushions, her legs tucked beneath her. She wrapped both hands around her own cup, its porcelain still warm against h

There were so many layers to that exchange—so much weight carried in such few words. Staying. Seeing. Surviving. They were no longer pretending things had not broken. But maybe, in their own fractured way, they were starting to find the courage to rebuild from whatever remained.Josh gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, slow and reverent. It wasn’t romantic in the polished sense—it was raw, honest, almost desperate in its tenderness. As if apologizing for every time he’d failed to offer this kind of softness before.Ashley didn’t speak. Her eyes were half-closed, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. For the first time in what felt like years, her body had stopped bracing. The armor was off. The readiness to run or fight or collapse was gone. She just... existed, there in his arms, for the sake of being.It was a kind of intimacy they hadn’t known before. Not the surface-level spark. Not the rush. But the quiet aftermath of chaos, th

Ashley hadn’t returned to their bedroom that night. She slept in the guest room, buried beneath a stiff blanket that barely offered warmth. The air in that room felt heavier than the memory of what had just happened between her and Josh upstairs—something impulsive, dangerous, and far beyond what either of them had intended. But every few minutes, she shifted restlessly. Her heart was pounding from flashes of memory that kept replaying behind her closed eyes.She can't sleep. Her mind was too scrambled to calm down after what she had just done—flirting with Josh, almost giving herself to someone she now considered the enemy. She no longer knew whether she was frustrated because it had been such a foolish, humiliating thing to do, or because of the leftover desire that still clung to her body in a way that made no sense. Her thoughts, her emotions, and the tension still lingering in the most sensitive parts of her made her restless, made sleep feel even more out of reach.It wasn’t u

“I really, really, really want something warm right now… I know I’ve only been here a few days, but I miss sundubu-jjigae a lot,” Sharon said, her voice a little shy. “Would you be the one to make it? I can only manage this.” She let out a small, awkward laugh.Ashley glanced at the pan in front of the girl—it was instant dak galbi. She recognized it right away from its torn packaging that was scattered carelessly around the stove.She gave a faint nod. “I can make it. I’ll cook it for you.”Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked to the kitchen shelves behind them, beginning to pull out the specific spices and ingredients for the stew Sharon had asked for.After that, the kitchen only filled with soft sounds of simmering broth and utensils moving. Make it feel more like a stage than a place of comfort. The act of sharing a space with Sharon was hard enough. So having to cook beside that girl, speak to that girl, match that girl’s rhythm—it was unbearable for Ashley. Ev