What Is The Name Of My Wife .... !! Jk And Tae

Respect and truth

The heavy oak doors of the office loomed before them like the gates to another world—one filled with cold truths and unspoken secrets. Both Geetanjali and Naina took a deep breath before stepping inside.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains half drawn, allowing a soft slice of morning light to spill across the polished wooden floor. At the center sat Mr. Min, rigid and imposing, his eyes sharp as if carved from ice. Beside him was Miss Lee, her hands nervously folded in her lap, her expression a mix of confusion and worry. On the other side lounged Yoongi, the young heir, who wore a smirk that immediately unsettled the girls.

The atmosphere was suffocating.

As soon as they entered, Mr. Min's glare locked onto them, piercing and unyielding. Yoongi's smirk deepened as though he already knew how the next few minutes would play out, while Miss Lee's eyes softened at the sight of the girls, her concern written all over her face.

Naina instinctively moved toward the sofa, ready to sit, but Geetanjali, sensing the tension, stopped her. With a graceful bow, she asked quietly, her voice calm but laced with unease:

Geetanjali: "Can we sit here?"

Before Mr. Min could reply, Yoongi's mocking voice sliced through the silence.

Yoongi (smirking): "Have we asked you to sit?"

The sharpness of his words made Naina's heart pound. Her eyes immediately darted toward Miss Lee, desperately searching for some reaction, some defense. But Miss Lee stayed silent, frozen in her chair, her lips trembling as though she wanted to speak but couldn't. That silence hurt more than the insult itself.

Naina felt her chest tighten, her eyes beginning to sting. Just then, a warm hand slipped into hers. She turned her head slightly—Geetanjali was holding her hand firmly, her presence whispering reassurance without a word: "I'm here. Don't worry."

Gathering her strength, Geetanjali lifted her gaze toward Mr. Min.

Geetanjali: "Dad, you called us."

Mr. Min leaned back in his chair, his expression hard. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned toward Miss Lee, giving her a small, commanding nod.

Mr. Min: "Tell them."

Miss Lee froze, her lips parting but no words coming out. Her hands trembled as she looked from Mr. Min to the girls. Her throat worked, but nothing emerged except stammering.

Miss Lee (hesitant): "I... I c-can't... y-you... go a-ahead..."

Mr. Min let out an exasperated sigh, as though her weakness annoyed him. Straightening his posture, he turned back to the girls. His expression grew even colder, his voice stripped of emotion.

Mr. Min: "Fine. I'll tell them myself."

He paused, as if savoring the weight of what he was about to say. Then, with a voice as cutting as a blade, he delivered the truth:

Mr. Min: "You are not our daughters. You are the daughters of my late business partner—the man who helped me build this empire. He and his wife died in an accident when you were barely eight months old. Since then, you've been under our care."

The words hit like thunder.

The room spun for both girls, their world crumbling within seconds. Their hearts clenched painfully, shattering into pieces too small to gather back. Neither scream nor tears came immediately—only silence, the kind of silence that screams louder than any cry.