Contents ( 38)
- Praise for Jen Frederick and her novels
- TITLES BY JEN FREDERICK
- CONTENTS
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- HEART
- AND SEOUL
- QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
- What’s next on your reading list?
“This is Yujun. Choi Yujun. He’s Wansu’s son. Stepson,” I correct myself.
Ellen’s eyebrows shoot up. Evidently, she hadn’t known that Wansu had a son. I guess the two mothers never really talked. Ellen wrote out the reports and Wansu wrote out the checks. That was the sum of their exchanges—because Ellen was afraid of losing me and Wansu was afraid of wanting more.
The office is eerily quiet. Everyone’s heads are down and tension hangs in the air like a dense fog. We trudge through it but it sticks to the back of my neck like the egg yolk in Bomi’s hair.
The double doors to Wansu’s office are ajar. Through the opening, I can see her standing behind her desk, her hands fisted on top of the wooden surface. Her complexion is as pale as her cream suit. Her normally sleek and polished exterior looks frayed, as if someone took a big wet brush and dragged it over her image. Her red lipstick is feathering at the corners of her lips. There’s eyeliner smudged under her eyes, as if she’s rubbed them too hard. A coffee stain decorates the front of her blouse. Yujun has his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. His vest is unbuttoned and his hair is mussed, probably from him shoving his hand through it. He looks like he’s worked a hundred hours and it’s barely ten a.m.
The minute we are inside the office and the doors are closed, Yujun speaks.
“Someone reported on you.”
“What do you mean? Reported on me?” I point to my chest.
“Someone overheard us in the restaurant, I think. We were speaking English but other Koreans speak English and must’ve put it all together. That you were Eomma’s daughter who she gave up many years ago. The gossip columns say that you did not know of this and were angry when you made the discovery.”
“Oh my God.” I rock back on my heels, stunned. I’d been so brash the other night, dragging everyone inside, not waiting for a private room. Not brash, but arrogant. I thought only of myself, and this is what happened. But why would anyone care enough to go to the press? I know the IF Group is big news, but this seems more of a personal attack on Choi Wansu . . . Sick, I clamp a hand to my stomach as a niggling thought crosses my mind and then refuses to be banished.
Maybe it was a person at the restaurant, but other than the people in the dining room sitting near enough to overhear, there was only one other person in full possession of the entire drama, and that was Kwon Hyeun. She also had a reason to go to the press. Kwon Hyeun and Wansu had been rivals for the same man. They both got pregnant by the same man around the same time but Wansu delivered and gave her baby away while Kwon Hyeun miscarried and then could no longer conceive. Choi Wansu had everything that Kwon Hyeun wanted, especially the daughter that Kwon Hyeun lost and Wansu had given away.