"Stupid girl"
(Jeon Joon-jung)
I had barely settled into my office chair after a board meeting with men who believed they had a certain amount of power, when the phone rang.
—Jeon. —I speak first, knowing who are.
—Problems with the Yangs. The Busan shipment is delayed. —My father replied. Concisely.
We talked about routes, adjustments, and quick fixes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until, inevitably, he changed the subject.
—So, Jeon. Heirs?
That same demand.
—I'm busy with other things. You know that.
I didn't raise my voice. I never did. But my response was as cold as ever. The silence on the line spoke for itself before I hung up. I left it like always. I put the phone on the desk and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a moment.
I'm so f*****g exhausted.
I thought of her. Nina. My "wife." That little girl. No matter how many years have passed, she's still a little girl in my eyes. Naive, stupid, desperate for attention. I can't help but remember her that night, our wedding night, three years ago. Her body was shaking beneath mine, and the tears on her face never seemed to stop, but that didn't matter. I did it because I had to, and I would do it again if necessary.
Since then, I haven't touched her. And I don't plan to until I decide I need an heir. So far, I've given her enough freedom to keep her away from me, but even that has failed.
The first mistake was the waiter. A kid who worked at the café she always goes to for breakfast. She thought she could hide it, but I know everything she does. The "protection" I offer her is more surveillance than caretaking, but she never understood. When I found out she'd f****d that jerk in the café bathroom, my patience ran out. It was the first time I yelled at her. I yelled at her like the stupidest girl in the world, because that's what she is. The guy was fired the next day, and I made sure she understood that if she said anything, she'd regret it.
Then came the professor. Another mistake. She was more discreet this time, but not sufficiently so. Closed office or not, it was still an offense. I also yelled, and I also had him fired and transferred to another country, ensuring he could never return.
But the worst of all was the "friend" from college. She thought she was being clever by following my rules: doing it at home. But that wasn't the only one. He was a college kid, a brat who knew exactly who she is, and worse, who I am. He was the first one I killed for her. Not because I cared about her, but because she was a threat to my image. My men could handle almost anything, but this time I did it with my own hands. I needed to remember what it meant to be the one who made the rules.
The last one was just two months ago: one of my guards. There was no excuse for that one. There was no reason, no justification. I wanted him dead, and that was enough.
She doesn't even know this. She doesn't need to know. She just needs to be damn smart.
Or close those f*****g little legs a little.
I shook those thoughts out of my head and pressed the intercom.
—Lee, come here.
My secretary arrived. Sometimes a blowjob is all you need to get going.
---
When I finally got home and walked into the kitchen, the mansion's silence greeted me as always.
She was sitting there at the island, eating silently. She didn't even look up when I walked in.
I poured myself a plate of what the housekeeper had cooked and sat at the table, away from her. I didn't look at her.
—I'm not going to your graduation tomorrow. I have things to take care of —I paused, sipping from my wine glass without even looking at her. —But I'm going to be at the celebratory dinner, I have to give the press a good image.
—And what's so important that you can't attend your wife's graduation? —She asked, also without looking at me. A bit ironic, in my opinion.
The audacity. I finished my sip of wine, still not looking at her, before setting the glass down with a deliberate thud.
—My presence is required elsewhere. You of all people should understand the importance of tending to priorities. —I said curtly —Besides, I thought you preferred to celebrate your accomplishments without me looming over you. I seem to recall you always expressing a certain independence.
Finally, I turned to face her, my expression unreadable. My eyes bored into hers as I continued.
—If you must know, I have a business to run. Obligations that demand my attention. You know that, but it's something you wouldn't understand, given your limited scope of responsibilities. —The insult lingered in the air. —However, as promised, I will grace the graduation dinner with my presence. The press will have their perfect picture. They always do.
She rolled her eyes. —I was just asking, —she muttered casually. —I wanted to know if the celebratory dinner could actually be canceled. Maybe you were just making up an excuse, like you had work to do and wouldn't even be able to attend. —This time she was looking at me.
I listened to her mumble. When she dared to look me in the eye, I met her gaze with a piercing stare of my own. The air between us crackled with tension.
In a voice low and dangerous, I responded: —Cancel the celebration dinner? I don't think so.
—I wouldn't dream of disappointing the press. They expect to see the perfect couple, and perfect we shall appear. —My words were clipped. —You should be grateful I'm even gracing the event with my presence. Most wives of powerful men aren't lucky enough to have a husband as accommodating as I am.
And it was, purely for appearances' sake, but it was. In the mafia, no wife can afford that luxury, but that's because not everyone has as much power as I do to have to deceive the world with a fake love in a marriage that no one needs to know is arranged. At least not those outside the mafia.
—And let's get one thing straight. I don't need excuses. I am the one who makes the decisions. The sooner you understand that, the better off we'll both be.
If she still doesn't understand, I don't know what to do with her.
—Now, I suggest you finish your meal. And you get ready to sleep.
She deliberately threw the silverware onto the table and stood up abruptly. — I'm done eating. Whatever. See you tomorrow.
A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, amused by her immaturity. She's just a child, too easily provoked. Sometimes I forget, and sometimes, unfortunately, I find it amusing.
I finished my meal in silence.
Later, as I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn't shake the thoughts of Nina from my mind. Her graduation, the childish way she sometimes behaves reminds me that she's just a child, the way she still clung to some delusion of independence. That I myself created.
But I knew I had to set things right, to remind her of her place.
I sighed, running my hand over my face and hair. —Stupid girl. —I muttered to myself.
Tomorrow will be an exhausting day.
With that thought in mind, I drifted off to a restless sleep, my dreams haunted by emerald eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
