The Widow's Guardian

Chapter 21

Getting into Hanja's office was easy. This had once been my kingdom after all. Everyone smiled and waved as if the queen had returned. I sure felt like a queen. I tried not to let it go to my head, but I probably was going to be top-heavy by the end of the day. I would suggest the Haechi carry me everywhere I go down. A queen couldn't touch the ground.

Pretending I belonged here was a walk in the park.

Trying to find a motive was difficult. The Hanja's computer was locked of course. He may not be street smart, but he knew how to run a business, and he maintained his files well. No matter how many password options I thought of none of them gave me the access I needed. I obviously didn't know my husband's best friend as much as I thought I did.

I groaned, fumbling through the papers on his desk. Data analyses, charts, and annual statistics. Nothing that would be important to me or the case.

I almost wanted to laugh. I was so close I could taste the courtroom sentence. The leather seats and polished wood.

Polished wood?

My eyes fell onto Hanja's wide desk. When I was in college, I met Hanja first before my husband. He was Professor Yu's assistant. He had helped me a few times in my theories class. He was a good writer, probably even better than me sometimes. I never told him. Why would I? That path never interested him. He was good at stocks. He liked money. He liked control.

He had liked me.

"What is Shakespeare's shortest tragedy?" Hanja asked me from the teacher's podium. He tried to pretend he was my professor during our tutoring lessons. He even put on reader's glasses when his eyesight was near perfect, and he would hit me with the pointer stick when I would doze off which was often enough to give me blisters by the end of the week.

"His fame?" I muttered as I laid on top of one of the front desks. They smelled of wood polish. Somebody had been cleaning them. Probably Hanja. He liked to suck up. It didn't do him any good. He wasn't even majoring in English.

We were in the lecturing theater. Everyone had gone home for the holiday break, but I was stuck with Hanja since I failed my theatre history final. I didn't fail it because I didn't know the coursework. I just thought it was irrelevant. How was a play from centuries ago going to influence my future teaching career? My future students are going to be as resistant as I was now.

I got whacked in the head with the pointer. "Pay attention!" Hanja chided. "Now again, what was the short—"

"Macbeth you blasted fool!" I bellowed, rubbing my sore brow. I was going to push him down the stairs on our way out. He was a thorn in my side these past weeks. I don't know why passing the class was so important to him. He was getting his MBA. I don't even know why he took this class. Maybe it was his secret addiction. I prayed for whomever he dated in the future. If he was my boyfriend I would have smothered him in his sleep for how much he spoke about theories and philosophy. Half the time I was banging my head against the wall when he spoke to me.

Hanja grinned. "I knew you weren't stupid. I don't know why you purposely failed the exam."

"Because I think it's a waste of time."

"Studying Shakespeare teaches you valuable lessons," he scolded.

I gave him a long look. "Please enlighten me," I gestured, giving him the floor.

"Hamlet teaches about perspective. Positive perspective," he said with a glare. "King Lear teaches about how success is induced by the effort which you desperately require!"