❝I ought to fuck the brat out of you until you can't talk back."❞
.
.
.
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❝But you won't❞
Jimin, the privileged class president, hides his relationship with Kai from everyone until Jungkook threatens to blow their secret wide open. With a career...
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Chapter 12 ✶————✶————✶
Jimin stepped through the front door quietly, his hands trembling as he pushed it closed behind him.
The house was still, save for the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway.
He hoped, prayed, that he could make it to his room without being noticed. But the sharp click of heels on the marble floor shattered that hope.
"Where are you coming from, Jimin?" his mother's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
She stood at the foot of the staircase, her figure towering even in her petite frame.
She wore a pristine black suit, her hair slicked back, every inch of her screaming control and power. Her eyes, however, were piercing, sharp with disappointment.
Jimin froze, his heart sinking. "I-"
"You what?" she snapped, taking a step closer. "You think you can just come and go as you please? That you can disrespect this family and my reputation?"
"I wasn't doing anything wrong," Jimin mumbled, his voice barely audible.
"Speak up, boy," she demanded, her voice rising. "Where were you? Who were you with? Do you even think about how your actions reflect on this family?"
"I was with a friend," Jimin muttered, his shoulders curling in on themselves.
Her laugh was humorless, sharp. "A friend? Do you expect me to believe that? While I'm working to uphold the name of this family, you're out gallivanting like some aimless fool?"
The frustration, the guilt, the weight of everything he'd been carrying boiled over. "Maybe I'm not perfect like you want me to be!" he shouted, his voice trembling.
"Maybe I just needed space! Maybe I-"
The slap came without warning. His mother's hand struck his cheek with a force that left him reeling, his head snapping to the side.
The sting burned, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed.
Jimin's father, seated in the corner of the living room with his newspaper and coffee, finally looked up.
His gaze was impassive, detached. "Apologize to your mother, Jimin," he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
The words hit Jimin like a thunderclap, reverberating through his chest with a force that made it hard to breathe.
His mother stood before him, her figure imposing even in the dim light of the kitchen.
Her voice, sharp and laced with venom, pierced the tense silence.
“Everything I do is for your good,” she hissed, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the polished countertop.
“Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you just fall in line? Without this family, without my name, without me, you’re nothing… nothing more than a pathetic little guy.”
