Chapter 14: Secrets, Safes, and Softboy Showdowns
1262 Words
“I swear, if you touch that safe without gloves again, I’m disowning you both.”
Sophia jerked her hand back as if the cabinet had shocked her. Ethan, already crouched near the ancient wooden structure, didn’t even flinch—just sighed long-sufferingly and looked up at the woman now standing in the doorway like a battle-hardened queen.
Mrs. Kang.
She stood tall and elegant, lips pursed, one brow arched. The quiet menace in her voice was far more terrifying than shouting.
“You made it sound like we’re unlocking Pandora’s box,” Ethan muttered, grabbing a pair of pristine white gloves from the drawer like a child told to put on his Sunday best.
“Worse,” Mrs. Kang said without blinking. “You’re unlocking a Kang secret. Those are far more volatile than curses.”
Sophia and Ethan shared a glance.
They both knew Mrs. Kang didn’t exaggerate. Ever.
***
Earlier that morning, Sophia had cornered Ethan immediately after breakfast—he still had a mouthful of toast when she dropped the verbal bomb.
“You have a safe.”
Ethan didn’t even blink. “You have two eyes.”
She snatched his coffee mug like it was the last weapon in a duel. “Your mom told me. She mentioned something about invisible ink and contracts locked away?”
That got his attention. His eyes sharpened like a hawk spotting prey midair.
So now here they were—in his late father’s old study. A room preserved in rich mahogany, shadows, and the scent of secrets. Ethan knelt before the antique safe, hands gloved, expression unreadable.
Sophia stood close behind him, arms folded, heart oddly loud in her chest.
With a soft click, the safe swung open.
There was only one item inside—a single, thick brown envelope, weathered at the corners. It smelled faintly of age and ink.
Ethan opened it carefully.
Sophia leaned over to look.
Inside were two items:
A folded marriage contract, official and unmistakably signed by both their parents.
A sepia-toned photograph—her mother, radiant in youth, standing beside a much younger Ethan’s father. A boy stood between them, smiling nervously.
Ethan.
The resemblance was uncanny.
Sophia’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s… my mom. That’s your dad. And… you?”
Ethan stared blankly. “I was around ten. I don’t remember this.”
“But that means…” She touched the edge of the photograph. “We were engaged. Actually engaged. Not just in a lawyer’s file, not just because of the will. This… this is real.”
Ethan's face paled slightly. “My father never told me. He must’ve… hidden it.”
Behind them, Mrs. Kang’s voice broke the silence.
“He didn’t hide it to deceive. He didn’t want to pressure you. Your father loved Sophia’s mother like a sister. That promise between them—it was personal. Sacred.”
Sophia turned. “But after the accident…?”
“We lost contact,” Mrs. Kang said softly. “But I remembered. Always. You were barely one day old when your father first told us he wanted you to grow up beside Ethan. He joked once that Ethan would marry you someday, and your mother told him he better put it in writing if he wanted it done.”
Sophia looked down at the document in Ethan’s hand—signed, sealed, and quietly binding them across the years.
“That’s why you accepted me,” she whispered.
Mrs. Kang stepped closer and gently touched Sophia’s cheek. “You were already family.”
***
In the brighter corners of Kang Group’s R&D lounge, the tension was far less existential and far more… unhinged.
Lily stood like a general before a whiteboard titled: Operation: Softboy Showdown
> Mission: To avenge Memegate and determine, once and for all, who reigns supreme—Sunshine Support Softboy or Stoic CEO Daddy.
> Competitors:
Ethan Kang – Bossman. Tense jawline. Likely watches his own security footage for fun.
Austin Min – Support latte incarnate. Possibly an empath. Definitely a menace.
Sophia walked in just as Austin finished a latte pour—a sad otter foam art with a single tear.
“You’re ridiculous,” Ethan said, standing across the table with his arms crossed, looking entirely out of place among marshmallow stacks and heart-shaped post-its.
“You agreed to participate,” Lily chirped.
“I thought it was a budget meeting.”
“Same thing. Emotional budgets.”
“Score update!” Jisoo yelled from behind her whiteboard. “Softboy: 2. President: 1.”
Sophia laughed into her sleeve as Ethan glared at her.
“You plotted this,” he accused.
“I might’ve mentioned you do a decent dramatic coat flip…”
Ethan, in a moment of annoyance, tossed his coat over his shoulder.
The twins shrieked in delight.
“Point to Ethan!”
“Unintentional style!”
Later that evening. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in honeyed shadow. Sophia wandered through Mrs. Kang’s private garden, her fingers trailing along the stone planter as her thoughts tangled like ivy.
She noticed something tucked beneath the edge of the stone—aged paper folded and worn with time.
Another envelope.
She opened it slowly, heart already anticipating something life-altering.
Inside was a photograph—her mother again, laughing this time, hair tied in a braid. She was with a teenage boy, arm slung casually over her shoulder.
The back read:
> R.K. – Summer, 1996.
Sophia’s breath stilled. R.K. Reynard Kang.
Ethan appeared behind her, voice quiet. “She looks like you.”
Sophia turned, the picture trembling in her grip. “Did you know your cousin was close to my mom?”
Ethan’s brows furrowed. “No. I knew Reynard was... ambitious. Mom said he was ‘too sharp for his own good.’ But this?”
“What if he’s using this history to unwrite your father’s legacy? To unravel everything—starting with me?”
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “If that’s true... he’s not just meddling with business. He’s waging war.”
Sophia nodded, fingers brushing the initials again. “And the battlefield is marriage. Inheritance. Identity.”
***
Back in the archives, Sophia searched old boxes from the Kang family records. She didn’t know what she was looking for—just that she wasn’t ready to stop.
And then she found it.
A worn blue journal, bound in leather. Her mother’s handwriting danced across the opening page.
> Betrothal Day
> “He cried when they told him. I laughed because he looked like he swallowed a lemon. They made us hold hands. He dropped mine after five seconds and wiped it on his pants.”
Sophia laughed, startling herself.
Ethan, reading over her shoulder, looked deeply betrayed. “I did not.”
“You totally did.”
“You kicked me under the table!”
“You called me weird!”
“You stole my crayons!”
Their eyes met, cheeks flushed, both standing among memories and legacy and dust-covered truths.
“Fine,” Ethan muttered, folding his arms. “We both suffered.”
Sophia leaned back against the shelf, shoulders easing.
“Maybe we were cursed from the start,” she said softly, the echo of the garden and old photographs clinging to her voice.
Ethan looked at her then—not with confusion or obligation, but something slower. Deeper.
“Or maybe,” he said, “we were written in ink no one thought could fade.”
And that time, Sophia didn’t look away.
- Writer
