Chapter 4 - The Phantom Predator
The press conference lasted precisely seven minutes.
Seo Yuna did not take questions. She did not smile. She stood before a sea of three hundred journalists, representing every major financial publication from Bloomberg to the Chosun Ilbo, and delivered her inaugural statement with the cold, measured cadence of a monarch reviewing troops.
“For the past three years, Haneul Group has operated under decentralized management,” her voice resonated through the speakers, deep and clear, completely devoid of the breathless agony that had filled the Hannam-dong penthouse hours before. “Effective immediately, the Chairman’s Office has resumed direct oversight over all strategic holdings, commercial underwriting, and maritime leases. Any entity currently utilizing Haneul infrastructure without strict adherence to ethical, operational, and financial compliance will have their covenants terminated without recourse.”
She paused, her eyes sweeping over the flashing lenses.
“Integrity is not negotiable. And debts… are always collected in full.”
She gave a curt, formal nod, turned, and walked off the stage, flanked by twelve personal bodyguards in dark suits, leaving an uproar of shouting reporters in her wake.
Back in the executive suite of Kwon Industries, the silence was deafening.
Daeho could hear his own pulse hammering in his ears like a war drum. His collar felt like a garrote choking the air from his windpipe. He reached up with shaking fingers, ripping his silk tie loose and tearing the top two buttons from his collar.
“It’s a trick,” Sora shrieked suddenly, her voice piercing the heavy air. Her face was flushed red, her eyes wide with frantic denial. “It has to be a trick! Oppa, she was an orphan! I checked her background myself! Her grandmother lived in a dilapidated village in Daegu! She wore twenty-dollar dresses from Dongdaemun! How could she be Chairman Seo’s granddaughter? She’s an actress! Someone hired her to ruin us!”
“Shut up!” Daeho roared, slamming his fist onto the desk.
The impact sent a crystal pen holder crashing to the floor, shattering into shards. Sora flinched, shrinking back against the leather sofa, tears of genuine shock welling in her eyes. She had never heard her brother raise his voice at her—never in her entire life.
“Taesik!” Daeho yelled, his eyes bloodshot, wild with panic. “Get the head of our private security firm on the line! Now!”
“Sir, the line is dead,” Taesik said, holding out his desk phone receiver. “Our corporate telecom contracts were bundled through Haneul Telecom. They just suspended service citing unpaid infrastructure fees.”
“Then use your personal cell phone! Find out where she went after the press conference! Find out where she is staying!”
“Oppa, what are you going to do?” Sora sobbed, clutching his sleeve. “If she really is Haneul’s heiress… what did you do to her last night? You broke her ribs! You beat her until she couldn't move! Oppa, they have the best lawyers in Asia! They will put you in prison!”
“I said shut up!” Daeho shoved her hand away. His mind was racing, spinning through legal defenses, alibis, and desperate maneuvers. “There were no cameras in the living room! The staff was dismissed! It’s her word against mine! She took the money—she took the eight million dollars! In the eyes of the law, that constitutes an out-of-court settlement! An accord and satisfaction!”
Even as he said the words, the absurdity of the argument tasted like ashes in his mouth.
An out-of-court settlement? For eight broken ribs inflicted by a husband against the sole heir of an empire worth hundreds of trillions of won? Chairman Seo Il-hwan had destroyed foreign shipping conglomerates for merely delaying a cargo delivery. What would he do to the man who laid hands on his granddaughter?
Just then, the heavy doors of the executive suite swung open once more.
It was not security.
Four men in crisp dark suits entered, led by a woman with short, razor-sharp black hair, carrying an ebony leather briefcase. She wore silver-rimmed spectacles, and her expression was as inviting as an iron door on a tomb.
Han Seojin.
Behind her walked six uniformed investigators wearing blue armbands bearing the gold insignia of the Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office.
Daeho felt his knees buckle, but he managed to grip the edge of his desk to stay upright. “Who gave you permission to enter my private office? This is illegal trespass!”
Attorney Han Seojin didn't even look at him. She opened her briefcase, retrieved a thick sheaf of red-stamped legal documents, and slapped them onto the glass coffee table with a crisp *thud*.
“Kwon Daeho,” Seojin said, her voice cutting through the room like a scalpel. “Pursuant to Article 14 of the Commercial Code and Article 214 of the Criminal Procedure Act, the special investigative unit of the Financial Services Commission and the Seoul District Prosecutor have issued an immediate freeze on all corporate accounts of Kwon Industries.”
“On what grounds?!” Daeho snarled, trying to summon the remnants of his chaebol swagger. “We are a publicly traded firm! You cannot freeze our liquidity without an indictment!”
“The charge is transnational corporate embezzlement, stock manipulation, and illicit routing of commercial paper,” Seojin replied calmly. She turned slightly, her gaze landing on Kwon Sora, who was cowering behind the sofa. “Specifically, the unauthorized transfer of forty-two billion won from Kwon Industries’ operating capital into the offshore personal accounts of Miss Kwon Sora under the guise of ‘art procurement consulting.’”
Sora gasped, her face turning translucent. “That… that was a gift! My brother gave that to me!”
“Your brother used funds underwritten by Haneul Merchant Bank,” Seojin countered, stepping forward until she stood directly over the trembling girl. “Which means, Miss Kwon, you did not steal from your brother. You stole from Chairwoman Seo Yuna.”
“Where is she?” Daeho demanded, his voice cracking, desperation bleeding through his anger. “Let me see her! She is still my wife! We are legally married! Whatever dispute exists between our companies, a husband and wife have the right to resolve their marital affairs privately!”
Seojin looked at him then. For the first time, a look of profound, chilling pity appeared in her eyes.
“Your wife?” Seojin let out a quiet, dry laugh. “Mr. Kwon, you never had a wife named Seo Yuna. Lee Yuna was a registered legal identity created under the special witness and asset protection provisions of the Seo Family Trust during her three-year sabbatical. An identity that was legally dissolved at six o’clock this morning.”
Daeho blinked. “Dissolved?”
“In the eyes of the Republic of Korea, Lee Yuna has ceased to exist,” Seojin leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that only Daeho and Sora could hear. “You are not married to Chairwoman Seo. You have no spousal privilege. You have no marital claim. What you have… is an aggravated assault investigation, an attempted murder inquiry, and twelve corporate defaults hitting your desk before the market closes at three.”
“You can’t do this…” Daeho whispered, his chest heaving. “Yuna loved me. She loved me for three years! She wouldn't destroy my life like this!”
“She loved the man she thought was kind,” Seojin said coldly. “You revealed yourself to be a beast who measures human agony in millions of won.”
Seojin turned to the prosecutors waiting at the door.
“Gentlemen, you may begin seizing the hard drives.”
The investigators moved in immediately, unplugging servers, boxing files, and affixing red official seals to every drawer in the room.
Daeho stood frozen in the center of the storm, watching his life’s work being dismantled piece by piece.
And across the room, Kwon Sora suddenly dropped to her knees, looking at her brother with eyes full of terror and accusation.
“It was your fault,” Sora whispered, her voice shrill, turning on him with venomous speed. “You kicked her, Oppa! You did it! I only told you she had a flash drive! I didn't tell you to break her bones! Don't let them take me! Tell them it was all you!”
Daeho looked down at the sister he had pampered, protected, and elevated above his own wife.
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The poison was already doing its work.
***
