Chapter 62: Chapter 62

Ye Jun

Next morning the office was buzzing. Big client meeting. Dad’s fashion line pitch. Si-woo’s baby, the one that was supposed to put us on the map. Everyone in suits except the interns who still looked like they rolled out of bed in yesterday’s clothes.

I showed up in my best button-down, pretending I was just there to observe. Dad did not question it. He never does when I pretend to care. I walked through the open-plan floor, past desks piled with fabric swatches and mood boards. Heads turned a little. Some interns gave quick nods, others looked away fast. I kept my face blank. Inside my chest felt tight. I had not slept much. The plan had kept running in my head all night.

Si-woo was already at the conference table, laptop open, looking fine. Too fine. Hair neat. Shirt pressed. No bags under his eyes. He had pulled it together overnight. He sat straight, fingers resting light on the keyboard, like nothing could touch him. I watched him from the doorway for a second. He looked calm. Too calm. That made my gut twist harder.

My stomach dropped.

He caught my eye across the room. Smiled. Not his usual asshole smirk. A real one. Calm. Confident. The smile hit like a slap. He lifted his chin a piece, eyes steady on mine. Then he looked back at his screen, dismissing me. Fuck. He had backups. Of course he had backups. He is Si-woo. Mr. Perfect. Mr. Always Three Steps Ahead. I knew it in my bones. He never left anything to chance. Not once.

I sat in the back row, hands clenched so hard my nails bit into palms. The chairs were hard plastic. My legs bounced under the table. I forced them still. The room smelled like every thing I have ever ever hated in this shitty world. People shuffled papers. Low voices murmured. I stared at the back of Si-woo’s head. His hair was perfect. Not one strand out of place.

The lights dimmed for the projector. Client walked in. Three suits, all looking bored already. The lead guy had gray at the temples and a watch that cost more than my rent. They took seats near the front. Dad stood at the head of the table like he was about to accept an Oscar. He adjusted his tie. Cleared his throat twice. Looked proud.

Si-woo clicked to the first slide. Early sketches. The ones I stole. The good ones. Clean lines. Bold shapes. Colors that popped even on the projector. He started talking. Smooth. Charismatic. Explaining vision, fabric choices, timeline. His voice filled the room easy. No ums. No hesitates. The client nodded slowly . Dad beamed. His shoulders relaxed for the first time all week.

Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Whole room went black. Someone yelped. Phones were supposed to be in the basket by the door. Confidentiality rules. So nobody had flashlights. Just darkness and confused muttering. Chairs scraped. Someone said “What the hell?” low. Dad’s voice cut through. “Stay calm. Power glitch. It will come back.”

I moved before I even thought about it. Slid out of my chair. Quiet. Fast. My shoes made no sound on the carpet. I kept low. Heart hammered in my throat. Si-woo was still at the front, fumbling with his laptop in the dark. Screen glow lit his face blue. He muttered curses. Kept clicking.

I got close. Close enough to smell his cologne. The expensive one he thinks makes him untouchable. Woody. Sharp. Familiar. Too familiar. “Hey,” I whispered. He turned. “What the.” His voice was sharp. Surprised.

I grabbed his shirt. Pulled him in. Kissed him hard. Tongue first. No warning. His body stiffened, then melted the way it always does when he is caught off guard. Lips parted. Heat rushed between us. I slid my hand down, palmed him through his slacks. Just enough pressure, just enough tease. He groaned into my mouth. Quiet. Desperate. His hips jerked forward once. Hands came to my waist.

Behind us I heard the softest shuffle. Titi. She had slipped up while everyone was distracted. I felt more than saw her lean over the table, pop something into the USB port on Si-woo’s laptop. A corrupt drive. Nasty little thing she keeps for emergencies. Click. Done. She was gone again before anyone noticed.

Si-woo’s hands gripped my waist. Trying to push me off but not really trying. Fingers dug in. Breath hot against my lips. I broke the kiss. Whispered against his lips, “You are so fucked.” His eyes widened. Realization hit.

Then I slipped back to my seat just as the lights snapped back on. I sat smooth. Crossed my legs. Looked innocent.

Everyone blinked. Confused. Si-woo stood there red-faced, breathing hard, adjusting his jacket like it would hide the obvious boner. He turned fast to the laptop. Hands shook a little.

Titi was already back out.

Client cleared his throat. “Everything alright?” Voice dry. Annoyed.

Si-woo rushed back to his laptop. Opened it. Screen glitched. Files opened. Then crashed. One by one. Pop-ups. Error messages. Corrupted thumbnails. Colors bled. Icons shattered. “No. No no no.” His voice cracked

Then Si-woo clicked to the technical pages. And nothing happened. The slide did not change. He clicked again. Screen froze. A thin blue line spun in the corner. Nothing else. He frowned. Clicked harder. Tapped the trackpad twice. “Uh. Give me a second.” Dad shot him a look. The kind that says fix this now or I will fix you later. The look was sharp. Everyone felt it.

Si-woo typed fast. Swore under his breath. “Files are not. Wait.” His fingers flew. Screen stayed stuck. I felt the grin creeping back. Maybe the sabotage hit deeper than I thought. My heart beat faster. Good. Let it burn.

Dad’s face went from proud to thunder. Eyes dark. Jaw tight.

Client stood up. “What the hell is this?” Briefcase snapped shut loud.

Dad started yelling. “Si-woo! Explain!” Voice boomed off the walls.

Si-woo’s hands shook on the keyboard. “It was fine this morning. I swear. The backups.” He clicked frantically. Nothing helped.

“Backups?” Dad snapped. “You said it was ready!”

“I thought.”

Client grabbed his briefcase. “We are done here. Call us when you figure out how to not embarrass yourselves.” He stormed out. His team followed fast. Door slammed behind them.

Dad turned on Si-woo. “You had one job.” Words low. Deadly.

Si-woo looked up, eyes wild. “I. I can do it offhand. I remember most of.” Voice thin. Pleading.

“Offhand?” Dad laughed, bitter. “You think they are gonna sit through your memory exercise?”

Si-woo kept typing. Desperate. Voice cracking. “Just give me five minutes.” Keys clicked useless.

The room was chaos. Interns whispering. Dad pacing. Titi pretending to take notes. Pen scratched paper slow.

I stood up slowly. Everyone turned. Heads swiveled. Eyes locked on me.

I cleared my throat. “There is something I can do to help.”

And the client and his team turned and looked back at us.

“You better got something good to show me and not be pulling my legs.”

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