🥀In the underworld of betrayal and bullets, love is the cruelest enemy.❤️🩹
🍂Two mafia rivals bound in marriage, torn by hate, trapped by desire.✨
~~~
Kim Taehyung, the ruthless Mafia king, killing anyone mercilessly who gets in his way, his pier...
The glass towers of Lee Corporation pierced the crisp morning skyline like shards of obsidian. At 7:30 AM, the grand lobby was already humming with an unnatural, electric anxiety. Security personnel stood at absolute attention, and the early-shift executives moved in hushed, panicked clusters, their eyes glued to the internal network tickers on their tablets. The rumors had traveled through the corporate ranks like wildfire since dawn.
The double glass doors hissed open.
YN stepped into the lobby, her structured beige coat cutting a sharp, unyielding silhouette against the polished white marble. She didn't look at anyone. Her gaze was locked entirely on the executive elevator bay, her heels striking the floor with a rhythmic, deafening authority that instantly silenced the entire room.
Jisoo: YN.
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Jisoo burst through the security turnstiles from the side pavilion, her hair slightly disheveled from her own frantic drive, a heavy secure encrypted briefcase gripped tightly in her right hand.
Her eyes were wide, swirling with a volatile mix of massive corporate excitement and the heavy, suppressed secret of Taehyung's innocence.
YN stopped, her sharp eyes scanning Jisoo's frantic expression as her friend fell into step beside her, the two of them moving rapidly toward the private executive elevator.
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YN: Did you bring the auxiliary legal blocks?
Jisoo: I have them right here. The secondary encryption keys are loaded. YN, listen to me, while we are going up-about what I was trying to tell you on the phone. The data from last night, Twilight has also got something, no I mean everythin-
Ding.
The private elevator doors slid open effortlessly, the interior lined with mirrored steel. YN stepped inside instantly, her mind operating at a relentless, multi-billion-dollar tempo that left no room for side conversations. She swiped her temporary consultant card against the sensor, her movements clinical.
YN: Not now, Unnie. Look at the pre-market indicators. If my biometric handshake isn't registered on the central mainframe within the next seven minutes, the short-sellers will try to manipulate the auxiliary capital blocks before the opening bell. The technical details can wait until I am behind the desk.
