The door clicked shut behind Alexander, leaving Mrs.
Ahn alone with the unconscious woman sprawled across the master bed.
The room was silent except for the soft, rhythmic breathing of the figure on the mattress.
Mrs.
Ahn stood still for a moment, her hands folded in front of her, studying the scene before her.
The girl Kelly, looked so small against the dark silk sheets.
Her dress was wrinkled, her wig askew, her face a patchwork of bruises and bandages.
‘Poor thing,’ Mrs.
Ahn thought, shaking her head.
‘What kind of monster would do this to a young woman?’ She stepped closer to the bed, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.
She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from Kelly’s face, wincing at the sight of the swollen eye and split lip.
Mr.
Morrowgate had done a decent job cleaning the wounds, but the damage underneath was still raw and painful.
“Alright, dear,” Mrs.
Ahn murmured softly, more to herself than to the unconscious girl.
“Let’s get you out of this dress and see what other damage we’re dealing with.” She reached behind Kelly and found the zipper.
Her fingers closed around the metal tab, and she began to pull it down.
The sound of the zipper separating was loud in the quiet room, a slow, deliberate ‘zzzzip’ that seemed to stretch on forever.
She pulled the zipper down to the middle of Kelly’s back, revealing the curve of her spine and the strap of what appeared to be some kind of binding beneath the dress.
Mrs.
Ahn frowned.
That was unusual—most young women wore bras, not bindings.
But perhaps Kelly had back problems, or perhaps it was some new fashion trend she was too old to understand.
She was about to pull the zipper further when her phone rang.
The sharp, insistent sound cut through the silence.
Mrs.
Ahn jumped, her hand flying to her chest.
She fumbled for her phone, pulling it out of her apron pocket, and glanced at the screen.
‘Gate Security.’ Her brow furrowed.
Why would the gate security be calling her at this hour?
She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” “Mrs.
Ahn!” The voice on the other end was frantic, breathless.
“You need to come to the gate right now!
It’s your son—he’s here, and he’s drunk, and he’s causing a scene!” Mrs.
Ahn’s blood ran cold.
“What?
My son?
Are you sure?” “Positive, ma’am!
He’s shouting your name, demanding to see you.
The guards are trying to calm him down, but he’s not listening.
Please, you need to come quickly before Mr.
Morrowgate finds out!” Mrs.
Ahn’s hand trembled.
Her son—her twenty-eight-year-old son, Ji-hoon—had struggled with alcohol for years.
He was a good boy at heart, kind and loving, but when the drink took hold of him, he became someone else entirely.
Someone angry.
Someone unpredictable.
She looked down at Kelly, still unconscious on the bed, her dress half-unzipped, her secret still hidden beneath layers of fabric and binding.
“I’ll be right there,” Mrs.
Ahn said, her voice tight.
“Don’t let him hurt anyone.
I’m coming.” She ended the call and shoved the phone back into her pocket.
She leaned over Kelly, her hands hovering uncertainly over the half-undone zipper.
“I’m sorry, dear,” she whispered, her voice strained.
“I have to go.
There’s an emergency.
I’ll be back as soon as I can.
Just…
just stay here.
Rest.” She pulled the covers up over Kelly’s body, hiding the exposed zipper and the binding beneath.
Then she turned and hurried out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she ran toward the gate.
******** The scene at the gate was exactly as the security guard had described—and worse.
Ji-hoon stood in the middle of the driveway, his shirt untucked, his eyes bloodshot, his body swaying like a tree in a storm.
He was shouting in Korean, his words slurred and broken, his arms flailing wildly as two security guards tried to restrain him.
“Let me go!
I want to see my mother!
She works here!
Let me see her!” “Sir, you need to calm down—” “Don’t tell me to calm down!
I know she’s here!
I saw her through the gate!
Eomeoni!
Eomeoni, come out!” Mrs.
Ahn’s heart shattered at the sight of her son.
This was not the boy she had raised.
This was the monster that alcohol created, the demon that had been stealing her son from her, piece by piece, year by year.
“Ji-hoon!” she called out, her voice sharp and commanding as she strode toward the gate.
“Ji-hoon, stop this right now!” Her son’s head snapped toward her, his eyes lighting up with a desperate, drunken recognition.
“Eomeoni!
Mother!
There you are!” He tried to push past the guards, but they held him firm.
“I’ve been looking for you!
Why did you leave?
Why did you leave me alone?” Mrs.
Ahn’s eyes burned with unshed tears.
She walked up to her son and, without a word, raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
The crack of her palm against his cheek echoed through the night air.
Ji-hoon staggered back, his hand flying to his face, his eyes wide with shock.
The guards released him, stepping back to give them space.
“Eomeoni…” he whispered, his voice small and broken.
“How dare you?” Mrs.
Ahn’s voice trembled with fury and pain.
“How dare you come to my place of work and cause a scene?
How dare you embarrass me like this in front of my employers?
I have worked for the Morrowgate family for twenty years, Ji-hoon.
‘Twenty years.’ And you come here, drunk and shouting, and you put my job at risk?
Is that what you want?
Do you want me to lose everything because of your drinking?” Tears streamed down Ji-hoon’s face.
“I’m sorry, Eomeoni.
I’m so sorry.
I just…
I missed you.
I needed you.
I didn’t know where else to go.” Mrs.
Ahn’s anger cracked, and the grief beneath it spilled out.
She pulled her son into her arms, holding him tight as sobs wracked his body.
“I’m here,” she whispered, stroking his hair.
“I’m here.
But you cannot do this.
You cannot keep doing this to yourself.
To us.” As she held her son, a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom VIII pulled up to the gate, its headlights cutting through the darkness like twin blades.
The security guards immediately straightened, recognizing the vehicle and the license plate: ‘KING-1.’ The car rolled to a stop, and the tinted window lowered, revealing the sharp, amused face of King Morrowgate.
“Well, well,” King said, his voice smooth as honey.
“Quite the commotion we have here.
Everything alright, Mrs.
Ahn?” Mrs.
Ahn quickly wiped her eyes and stepped back from her son, bowing respectfully.
“Yes, Mr.
Morrowgate.
Everything is fine.
My son was just…
leaving.” King’s eyes flickered to Ji-hoon, taking in his disheveled appearance with a look of mild disdain.
“See that he does.
We wouldn’t want any more…
disturbances, would we?” “No, sir.
Of course not, sir.” King nodded, then turned to the driver.
“Inform the security that I’m here to see my brother.” The driver stepped out and relayed the message to the guards, who quickly opened the gate.
The Rolls-Royce glided through, disappearing up the driveway toward the main house.
Mrs.
Ahn watched it go, a cold knot forming in her stomach.
‘Why is Mr.
King here?
And why now?’ She looked at her son, then back at the house.
The girl was still in Mr.
Alexander’s room, her dress half-unzipped, her wounds untreated.
Mrs.
Ahn had promised to return.
But now, with Mr.
King in the house, she couldn’t just slip back into the master bedroom unnoticed.
‘I’ll have to wait,’ she thought, guiding her son away from the gate.
‘I’ll have to wait until the coast is clear.’ To be continued…