OFF THE RECORD

“Chapter 4:Stains and Silent Orders”

Lee Jin-ho's POV

The whole team was still stuck in New York, schedules adjusted while the agency monitored every social media post, comment, and clip from the gala. We were staying on the quiet top floor of a midtown hotel, far from the crowds. I sat cross legged on my bed, turning the stained midnight blue suit over in my hands, while Choi paced back and forth like a caged tiger.

"Do you have any idea how close that was?" He stopped right in front of me, voice sharp but not shouting, which honestly was way scarier. ""Blurry footage, no clear faces. That is the only reason you are still breathing. One clear shot linking you to her, and you are done."

I scratched the back of my neck and gave him my most charming, universally handsome grin. "Hyung, look at the bright side! We only got stuck ten minutes! The elevator did not fall! No one had to call the fire department! That is basically a miracle, right?"

Choi just stared at me, then snatched the suit gently but firmly from my hands. "Bright side? Look at this mess. Do you even remember who gave this to us? This is sponsored, hyung. Limited edition. One of only three pieces in the whole country. We signed a contract saying we would keep it in perfect condition. And you dragged it across dirty concrete just so someone could sit down?"

He shook the garment lightly, showing the dark smudges along the hem and that faint dried mark near the knee. "If the brand sees this? If word gets out you ruined their thousand dollar custom piece like this? That is another contract gone. Another sponsor lost. You have no idea how much trouble you actually made tonight."

I ran my thumb gently over the stain anyway, then looked up at him, my voice quieter and sincere. "I know, hyung. I am sorry. I really am. I know this was sponsored, and I know how much trouble this causes."

"You are impossible." He sighed so deep his shoulders dropped. "But... I got word ten minutes ago. Her people are moving too. They are coordinating quietly, scrubbing traces, keeping every outlet quiet. Looks like her team is just as determined to keep this buried as we are."

YOONA SONG'S POV

My father's office is on the seventy fifth floor. Three floors above mine. It is bigger, colder, and has no windows that open. He likes it that way.

I was summoned at exactly ten thirty AM via his secretary. Not via text. Not via call. Via summon. Like I was an employee, not his daughter.

"Chairman Song will see you now, Ms. Song," his secretary said, not looking at me.

I took a deep breath, fixed my blazer, and walked in.

My father, Chairman Kang-min Song, was standing by the window looking down at Manhattan like he owned it. He does. Seventy two years old, silver hair, black suit that costs more than most people's apartments. He did not turn around when I entered.

"Close the door," he said.

I closed it.

"Who is that man? What is your relationship?"

He did not give me time to answer.

"You think I do not see what is circulating?" His voice was low, sharp, unyielding, the exact tone that made grown men in boardrooms tremble. "You think I have eyes everywhere and none of them saw the clips? Service elevator stuck. Two people inside. One man shielding you when the doors opened."

I stood frozen, unable to find the right words fast enough.

"It was nothing, sir," I managed to say. "It was an accident. He was just being kind."

"An accident," he repeated, finally turning to look at me. His eyes were exactly like mine. Cold. Sharp. Tired. "An accident where a photographer caught you stepping out looking flustered. An accident where my daughter, the CEO of Song Global New York, was filmed hiding in a service elevator like a careless teenager."

My hands clenched tight inside my pockets.

"My team fixed it," I said. "The footage is deleted. NDAs are signed. No press. No photos. No scandal. Nothing leaked."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it at all.

"Yoona, you are twenty five. You run Song Global because I trusted you to be smarter than this. You think silencing the press means everything is fine? You think paying Vogue enough money fixes your reputation?"

"Like I said, sir. It was nothing. He is nothing. Pure accident."

He walked over and leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed tight.

"An accident? Accidents do not look like that. You are Song Global. Every move you make changes our stock price. Every rumor puts everything I spent forty years building at risk."

He paused, looking straight at me.

"Is that why you sent Lexi to buy a seven thousand dollar suit at seven AM this morning?" he asked quietly.

My blood ran cold.

Maya told him. Of course she did. She reports to both of us. I forgot.

"It was damaged," I said, keeping my face smooth and unreadable. "I sat on it. I pay my debts. That is exactly what you taught me."

"I taught you to never pay more than what is owed," he said. "A seven thousand dollar suit for a dirty jacket is not paying a debt, Yoona. That is guilt. Or something far more dangerous."

"It is not something else."

"Good. And you will stay away from Lee Jin-ho completely. If you embarrass this family again, I will pull Song Global funding from Fame immediately and replace him. Is that clear?"

"I am warning you, Yoona. The next time, I will not call you into my office. I will simply let you go."

"Father —"

"That is all, Ms. Song. You may go. Send Maya in."

I stood there for three full seconds. Fists tight. Nails digging deep into my palms.

He did nothing wrong. He was just kind. And kindness cost us seven thousand dollars and a threat. That is why I do not take kindness from anyone. It always comes with a bill too high to pay.

Then I bowed once, perfectly and coldly, and walked out.

Head held high. Unshaken.

He taught me well. Always look like you own the room, even when you feel like you are losing yourself.

LEE JIN-HO'S POV

Later that night, my phone buzzed just as I was folding the stained suit back into its bag. Then Choi stood outside my hotel room holding a large dark garment bag.

"Security brought this up ten minutes ago," he said, walking in and setting it on the table. "Left at the front desk. No name. No note. Just said it was for you."

I unzipped it slow and my breath caught.

Inside was the exact same midnight blue suit. Perfect. Brand new. Exact cut, exact fabric, exact small silver buttons along the lapel. Tucked inside the breast pocket was one small slip of paper written in neat sharp handwriting:

Thank you for your kindness. This replaces what was damaged. Forget the elevator. It was only an accident.

No signature. No name. Just those few quiet words.

I let out a laugh so loud the members next door probably heard me. "She bought it. She actually bought the exact same suit."

Choi ran a hand over his face, but I saw the small smile tugging at his mouth. "She has resources. She has money. She does not have to do this."

"She does not have to," I said gently, touching the smooth wool. "But she did anyway."

"Yeah." Choi shook his head.

His voice turned serious and sharp. "So stay out of trouble. Stay away from Song Global, and especially stay far away from Yoona. He will bury you if he sees you as a threat."

I looked down at the note in my hand, then at the new suit, then out the window at the glittering New York skyline.

"He can try," I said quietly. "But hyung? Accidents have a way of finding each other again."

Choi groaned loud and turned for the door. "You are unbelievable. Just finish this schedule. Keep your head down. And for heaven's sake, do not get stuck in any more elevators."

I waved him off, still grinning like an i***t. Once the door clicked shut I picked up the old stained suit and ran my thumb over that faint dark mark one last time.

Somewhere out there, the Ice Queen was paying her debts. And somewhere out there, her father was watching.

But I was already counting the days until our next accident.