CHAPTER THREE
1034 Words
“Section four.”
Director Cho pushed the contract across the table.
“The Baekhwa deal is underpriced.”
Alexander looked down at the document.
He had already read it twice that morning.
“It was,” he said.
Cho raised an eyebrow.
Alexander tapped the page with his pen. “Legal changed the terms yesterday. You’re looking at the old version.”
The room went quiet for a second.
Cho picked up the contract again and flipped through the pages.
Alexander waited.
He didn't enjoy board meetings, but he had learned a long time ago that rushing people only made them talk more.
Finally, Cho found the section.
His expression changed slightly.
“Section four,” he muttered.
“Yes.”
Cho read it again.
“The revised terms protect our side?”
“They do.”
A few of the directors exchanged looks.
Cho leaned back in his chair. “Fine. Then we proceed.”
Alexander nodded and closed his folder.
That was one problem off the table.
There were still about twenty more waiting for him.
A&H Group had been his problem for two years now.
His father had died when Alexander was twenty-five.
A few months later, Alexander took over the company.
It hadn't gone smoothly.
Some of the directors had been convinced that a twenty-five-year-old couldn't possibly handle a company his father had spent decades building.
Director Cho had been one of them.
Alexander hadn't argued with him.
He'd simply done the job.
Two years later, Cho still had his opinions, but at least he kept most of them to himself.
The meeting dragged on.
Supply contracts.
The Busan expansion.
A personnel issue that somehow took forty minutes longer than it should have.
By the time the meeting finally ended, Alexander's coffee had gone cold.
He stared at it for a moment before pushing it aside.
“Sir?”
He looked up.
His assistant was standing near the door.
“Your next appointment is at three.”
Alexander glanced at the clock.
“Cancel it.”
“She already rescheduled twice.”
He paused.
“Then keep it.”
His assistant smiled like she'd been expecting that answer.
Alexander gathered his papers.
His phone vibrated.
Mom.
He stared at the screen for a second before answering.
“Hi.”
“Are you busy?”
“Yes.”
“You always say that.”
“Because I'm usually busy.”
There was a short silence.
“Come for dinner tonight.”
Alexander leaned back in his chair.
“Mom”
“Seven.”
“I have work.”
“Eight, then.”
“That's not how negotiating works.”
“I know. That's why I'm doing it.”
He rubbed his forehead.
His mother continued before he could argue.
“You've barely been eating properly again.”
“I eat.”
“Coffee isn't food.”
Alexander looked at the cold cup sitting beside his papers.
“I'm aware.”
“And your father would have complained.”
That made him stop.
His mother knew exactly what she was doing.
Alexander sighed.
“Eight.”
“Good. Don't be late.”
The call ended.
He stared at the phone.
Apparently, being the CEO of a large company meant very little when his mother wanted him at her dinner table.
---
By eight, Alexander was sitting across from his mother while she watched him eat like she was conducting an inspection.
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
“You should sleep more.”
“I'll try.”
“You said that last month.”
Alexander took another bite.
His mother frowned.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“You're not.”
“I am.”
She shook her head.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she noticed the faint mark near his knuckles.
“What happened to your hand?”
Alexander glanced down.
“Nothing.”
“Alexander.”
He knew that tone.
He put his fork down.
“There was some trouble on the street last night.”
Her expression immediately changed.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Three men were bothering someone.”
“And?”
“I stepped in.”
His mother stared at him.
“You were alone?”
“Yes.”
“Where was your security?”
“I didn't have them with me.”
She sighed heavily.
“You're running a company, not trying to prove you're invincible.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Alexander almost smiled.
His mother had been saying some version of that since he was a child.
“I called the police,” he said. “It's handled.”
She still didn't look convinced.
But eventually, she let it go.
The conversation moved on.
His cousin's wedding.
One of his mother's friends retiring.
A colleague Alexander barely knew who had apparently gotten married twice.
Then his mother started complaining about how he never visited enough.
He listened.
Mostly.
By the time he left, she'd packed food for him despite his protests.
He carried the container to his car and stared at it.
He hadn't even finished dinner.
Yet somehow, he was going home with enough food to feed three people.
He shook his head and got into the car.
---
His apartment was quiet when he returned.
Too quiet, probably.
Alexander dropped his keys on the table, loosened his tie, and opened his laptop.
There were still contracts waiting.
Of course there were.
He worked until after midnight, moving from one document to another.
At some point, he reached for his coffee and remembered it was empty.
He stared at the cup.
Then at the clock.
He should sleep.
Instead, he opened another file.
The woman from the night before crossed his mind for a moment.
He remembered the way she'd looked at him.
Not grateful.
Not relieved.
Terrified.
Alexander leaned back in his chair.
He couldn't blame her.
A stranger appearing in the middle of the night probably wasn't exactly comforting, no matter what his intentions were.
He looked back at his screen.
There was nothing he could do about it now.
So he went back to work.
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