The Trojan Horse
857 Words
[PARK SEO-YEON]
"I'm getting a beer. You want one?"
Jin-Woo’s offer hung in the air, cutting through the noise of Ji-Eun’s K-Pop blasting from the living room speakers.
A beer. It was 2:00 PM on a Tuesday. I was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I had infinite emails to answer and damage control to manage.
"Yes," I said, surprised by how quickly the word came out. "Yes, I do."
I walked into the kitchen, my heels clicking on the marble. I felt stripped raw. The adrenaline that had sustained me through the board meeting was gone, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and a strange, humming tension in my body every time I looked at Jin-Woo.
He had taken off his suit jacket and tossed it over a barstool. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing forearms thick with muscle and veins.
He didn't use a bottle opener. He pulled that terrifying matte-black combat knife from somewhere behind his back and popped the cap off a bottle of imported lager with a casual flick of his wrist. Pop.
He slid the cold bottle across the island to me.
I picked it up, the condensation cool against my palm. I took a long drink. It was bitter, cold, and exactly what I needed.
For a moment, just a moment, the noise of my sisters faded. It was just us in the kitchen. The monster in the suit and the queen in the silk armor, both tired of fighting.
He leaned against the counter opposite me, nursing his own beer, watching me over the rim with those unsettlingly calm eyes.
"You did good today, Boss," he said quietly. "You didn't flinch."
A warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Coming from him, it felt like a knighthood.
"Hey! Are you guys drinking without me?"
Ji-Eun bounced into the kitchen, sweaty and breathless from her dance practice, wiping her forehead with a towel. She stopped when she saw Jin-Woo, her usual bubbly confidence faltering for a second as she remembered the shower incident. She gave him a wide berth as she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
Min-Ji shuffled in behind her, blinking against the kitchen lights. "Did you bring food? I haven't eaten since yesterday’s raid."
The domestic chaos was back. My headache started to throb again.
Ding.
The private elevator chime echoed through the penthouse.
We all froze.
[KANG JIN-WOO]
The beer went down smooth, but the sound of the elevator shattered the brief moment of peace.
[Threat Assessment: Immediate. The private elevator is coded. No visitors were scheduled.]
I set my bottle down. The relaxed posture vanished.
"Stay here," I ordered the three women. My voice wasn't loud, but it was absolute.
I walked into the foyer just as the brass doors slid open.
A young courier in a generic delivery uniform stood there, holding a sleek, velvet-covered box. He looked nervous. He should be. He was standing on the 90th floor of a fortress he shouldn't have been able to access.
"Delivery for CEO Park Seo-Yeon," the kid stammered, holding out the box. "Priority."
I didn't take it. I stepped into his personal space.
"How did you get up here?" I asked low. "Security at the lobby desk has strict protocols for the private lift."
The kid swallowed hard. "I don't know, sir. The concierge downstairs just buzzed me through. Said it was pre-approved by the CEO."
I looked back at Seo-Yeon, who had walked into the foyer. She shook her head, her face pale. "I didn't approve anything."
The breach wasn't physical. It was digital. Someone had hacked the building's security protocols to let this kid in.
Min-Ji needs to tighten her firewall.
I took the box from the courier. It was light.
"Get out," I told the kid. He didn't need telling twice. The doors closed behind him.
"What is it? A fan gift?" Ji-Eun asked, peeking around the corner, her curiosity overriding her caution.
"Back," I snarled. "All of you. Behind the marble island. Now."
They scrambled. Even Seo-Yeon didn't argue.
I placed the velvet box on the foyer table. It was too small for a bomb, but in my line of work, you never assume.
I pulled out my knife and carefully slit the seal. I lifted the lid with the tip of the blade.
It wasn't a bomb.
It was a single, perfect white rose. The petals were flawless.
Except for the edges. They had been carefully, meticulously dipped in red paint that looked disturbingly like fresh blood.
Lying beneath the rose was a plain white card.
I picked it up with the tip of my knife. No fingerprints.
There were only five words typed in a generic font:
Welcome home, Princess. Nice dog.
I looked up. Through the massive living room window, the city of Seoul sprawled below us. Somewhere out there, someone was watching. Someone who could snap their fingers and bypass the most expensive security system in Gangnam.
The boardroom victory dissolved instantly.
We weren't safe in the tower. We were just trapped in a higher cage.
- Writer
