Alexander Cho is the handsome only son of one of the biggest conglomerates in South Korea. But his world violently spins into darkness after he is forced to split up with his foreigner lover and contend with the shocking crimes of his family's busin...
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THURSDAY, MARCH 30th
Dear Diary,
The results from my midterms came back today. All A's—plus the extra points from Professor Alber's challenge questions.
It bores me to no end how predictable these tests are beginning to become.
Passed graduates have always talked about how they feared his econ finals. I find this laughable since I practically finished his test within the hour—give or take ten minutes.
Perhaps that's because I have such a diligent study partner for a girlfriend. I truly admire her tenacity.
Since I know absolutely nothing about bioengineering, I simply support her in any way I can. Whether that be massaging the cute little space between her shoulders as she rants to me about her workload, bringing her sweets when she's feeling low on blood sugar, skirting her away to a restaurant when she's had enough for the day, or making trips to the cafeteria to buy her favorite milkshake: a medium-sized vanilla strawberry swirl. Low-fat milk only. I'm not quite sure what she has against skim.
Skim milk is divine.
Anyhow, I'm now off to the student center to pick up a couple of books from the library for a research project for our capstone. After that, I'm supposed to clock in at the Wall Street Journal for my internship later this afternoon to speak with my mentor regarding the details of my project. As you can probably tell, things always get busy in the spring—much more now that I'm a university senior.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Out of habit, I stifle a sharp inhale. I feel the bowels of my stomach hiss with consternation.
It must be mother.
I don't let the phone ring for another second and quickly dig into my pocket for it. My finger swiftly flies over the accept button.
"Anyunghaseyo, Eomeoni?" I keep my voice even and respectful.
"Mireu," a smooth voice calling me by my Korean-given name trickles through the phone, wrapping around my throat and squeezing threateningly. Practically commanding me to fear the woman that owns it.
Over the years I've learned not to show my fear anymore to avoid triggering her twisted satisfaction.
"How are you, dear?" She asks in Korean. I know it's only a segway question and not a genuine one.
"Good," I say blandly.
"My secretary reported to me you had all A grades, on your exams." Her voice sounds only slightly pleased. I don't wish for any more than that because I know that that is the limit of her approval. Also, she couldn't even if she tried.
