Chapter 2 - FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE, TAE LET SOMEONE LEAVE
Tae did not sleep.
By six in the morning, snow had turned the windows white and Leila’s letter had softened where his hands had folded and unfolded it too many times.
Her wedding ring remained on the nightstand.
He had moved it once.
Then put it back exactly where she had left it.
At 6:17, his phone rang.
Marco Jin.
Head of security.
One of the few men in Chicago who could call Tae before sunrise without first asking permission.
“Boss.”
Tae said nothing.
Marco continued.
“We found Mrs. Park’s vehicle.”
Tae’s body went rigid.
Then he remembered.
Not Mrs. Park.
Leila Grant.
“Where?”
“Near the workshop.”
“Is she there?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
A pause.
“Looks like it.”
“Put two men outside.”
The order came automatically.
Then Tae closed his eyes.
Leila’s handwriting returned.
Guards. Cameras. Cars. Drivers. Routes. Locks.
“Cancel that.”
Marco went quiet.
“What?”
“No men.”
“Boss, the workshop isn’t secure.”
“I know.”
“You said—”
“I changed the order.”
Marco had worked for Tae long enough not to ask why.
Still, concern entered his voice.
“There are people who may see the divorce as an opportunity.”
“I know.”
“You want me to do nothing?”
Tae looked at Leila’s ring.
“No.”
“I want you to contact her attorney.”
“Offer security options.”
“She chooses.”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
“And Marco?”
“Yes?”
“No tracking.”
“No location monitoring.”
“No private camera access.”
“If she says no, we stop.”
Marco sounded almost uncomfortable.
“Even if you think she’s at risk?”
Tae swallowed.
“Yes.”
It was one of the hardest orders he had ever given.
Not because danger disappeared when consent arrived.
Because Tae had spent his entire adult life believing fear gave him the right to decide.
Leila had finally shown him what that had cost.
Downstairs, Mrs. Han stood in the kitchen preparing tea.
Tae entered.
She looked at his face.
Then at the letter still in his hand.
“You read it.”
“Yes.”
She did not ask what it said.
“What time did she leave?”
“Just before five.”
“Did she eat?”
Mrs. Han looked sad.
“She tried.”
“What did she take?”
“Her clothes.”
“Books.”
“Personal things.”
“The old rabbit.”
Tae closed his eyes.
Of course she took the ridiculous ceramic rabbit.
Mrs. Han placed tea in front of him.
Tae did not touch it.
Then she said:
“You should let the lawyers finish the divorce.”
He looked up.
“Why are you telling me that?”
“Because I know you.”
“Do you?”
“I changed your diapers.”
That ended most arguments.
She sat across from him.
“You will want to stop this.”
“Yes.”
“You will think if you move enough pieces, you can create another outcome.”
“Yes.”
“You will tell yourself you are fighting for your marriage.”
Tae looked down.
Mrs. Han’s voice softened.
“But she already told you what she needs.”
“What?”
“To know whether you can hear her when the answer hurts you.”
He did not like that.
Therefore, it was probably true.
At 8:30, Tae called his attorney.
“Finalize it.”
The lawyer sounded surprised.
“You understand Ms. Grant’s waiver is unusually broad.”
“Yes.”
“A judge could question whether she received sufficient consideration.”
“She has independent counsel.”
“She does.”
“Then make sure the record shows she was advised fully.”
“Of course.”
“And don’t pressure her to take more.”
The attorney hesitated.
“Mr. Park, I need to ask.”
“What?”
“Are you certain?”
No.
Absolutely not.
“Yes.”
He hung up.
Across Chicago, Leila woke beneath an old wool blanket on a sofa inside her restoration workshop.
The building had once been a printing warehouse.
Brick walls.
Tall industrial windows.
Radiators that complained all winter.
Half-finished furniture surrounded her like silent patients.
A French armoire with one missing door.
A Victorian table waiting for new veneer.
A walnut chair with its seat removed.
Things that could be fixed.
She had spent years believing that made the workshop peaceful.
That morning, everything reminded her of the letter she had left behind.
She regretted parts already.
Too honest.
Too final.
Too much of herself on one sheet of paper.
Then her phone showed nine missed calls.
Not from Tae.
That stopped her.
One from her attorney.
Two from her sister in Arizona.
Three clients.
One from the building manager.
Two unknown numbers.
No Tae.
She should have felt relieved.
Instead, something inside her hurt.
Old habits were cruel.
You could ask someone to let you go and still notice when they did.
Her attorney called again.
Leila answered.
“Morning.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Park’s security counsel contacted me.”
Leila’s body tightened.
“What do they want?”
“To offer security.”
“I don’t want his men outside.”
“I told them.”
“What happened?”
“They said understood.”
Leila sat up.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Her attorney sounded almost amused.
“They provided three independent firms if you want one.”
“No cost obligation.”
“No requirement.”
“Your choice.”
Leila stared through the workshop window at falling snow.
“That doesn’t sound like Tae.”
“Maybe divorce is educational.”
Leila almost laughed.
Then the building manager called.
That conversation erased the humor.
“Ms. Grant, we need to talk about your lease.”
Leila frowned.
“I paid through the quarter.”
“It’s not about payment.”
“What happened?”
“The building changed ownership eighteen months ago.”
She froze.
“I know.”
“The investment company.”
“Yes.”
“That company contacted us after seeing the divorce filings.”
Leila’s stomach tightened.
“What company?”
A pause.
“Lake Meridian Property LLC.”
She knew that name.
Not directly.
The word Meridian was enough.
“Who owns it?”
Another pause.
“Park Meridian.”
Leila stopped breathing.
“What?”
The manager rushed on.
“I assumed you knew.”
“No.”
“I definitely did not know.”
Tae had bought her building.
Eighteen months earlier.
Never told her.
The same year someone broke into the vacant workshop next door.
The same month Tae installed cameras in her workspace without asking.
Leila felt suddenly sick.
“Did my rent change?”
“No.”
“Was my lease altered?”
“No.”
“Did anybody enter my unit without permission?”
“I don’t know.”
Leila’s voice hardened.
“Find out.”
Then she hung up.
Her hands shook as she opened her laptop.
The property company was real.
Lake Meridian Property LLC.
Registered through subsidiaries.
Controlled by Park Meridian Holdings.
The purchase happened exactly eighteen months earlier.
She remembered the night Tae came home irritated because her workshop alarm had failed.
She remembered telling him:
“It’s fine.”
He said:
“No, it isn’t.”
Two days later, new cameras appeared.
She had fought with him.
He said he paid for better security because he could not concentrate knowing she worked alone at night.
She told him it was invasive.
He told her she was being stubborn.
She had never known he had bought the entire building.
Leila called Tae.
He answered before the second ring.
“Leila.”
His voice nearly broke something in her.
“Did you buy my building?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
“When?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
“Why?”
“The owner wanted to sell.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Someone broke into the unit beside yours.”
“So you bought the building.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
Her anger arrived so quickly she stood.
“I paid rent to my husband?”
“No.”
“The rent went to the management company.”
“Which you owned.”
“Yes.”
“You read reports on the building?”
Tae did not answer immediately.
“Tae.”
“Yes.”
“What reports?”
“Security incidents.”
“Maintenance.”
“Access logs for common areas.”
Leila closed her eyes.
“Did you monitor when I arrived?”
“No.”
“Did your people?”
A pause.
“Automated access logs existed.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His voice became quieter.
“Security reviewed them if there was concern.”
She laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
“You owned my workplace.”
“Leila—”
“No.”
“You told me my workshop was mine.”
“It was.”
“No.”
“It existed inside something you controlled.”
“I never interfered with your business.”
“You shouldn’t have needed that sentence.”
Silence.
The truth of it hit him.
Leila continued.
“I’m leaving the workshop.”
Tae’s breathing changed.
“No.”
The word came too fast.
Both heard it.
Then he corrected himself.
“Sorry.”
Leila waited.
He took a breath.
“If you want to leave, you leave.”
Better.
“I can sell the building.”
“No.”
“Transfer your unit—”
“No.”
“Leila, I’m not trying to give you something.”
“You’re already solving.”
He stopped.
She pressed fingers against her forehead.
“I need one place in my life that was never secretly yours.”
That sentence destroyed the argument.
Tae said quietly:
“I understand.”
“No.”
“You’re starting to.”
Fair.
“What do you want me to do?”
Leila looked around the workshop.
The chipped brick.
The dust.
The old furniture waiting for her hands.
She loved this place.
That was what made it worse.
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll handle my lease.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll find another building.”
“Okay.”
“And Tae?”
“Yes?”
“Do not buy it.”
For the first time, something like humor entered his voice.
“I won’t.”
She hung up.
Tae stayed seated in his study for a long time after the call ended.
Then Marco entered.
“There’s a problem.”
Tae looked up.
“What?”
Marco placed a folder on the desk.
“Lake Meridian.”
Tae’s expression hardened.
“What about it?”
“When we started separating personal holdings from Park Meridian assets, accounting flagged payments.”
“What payments?”
“Security consulting.”
“Who?”
Marco hesitated.
“Your uncle.”
Tae went still.
Joon Park.
His father’s younger brother.
Vice chairman of Park Meridian.
The man who helped Tae take control after his father died.
The man who had spent years telling him that Leila was safest when she knew less.
Marco continued.
“Joon authorized private surveillance contracts tied to the workshop property.”
Tae’s voice dropped.
“What surveillance?”
“Vehicle logs.”
“Visitor records.”
“Exterior photographs.”
“Some were ordered after the neighboring break-in.”
“Some continued long after.”
Tae’s entire body changed.
“Did I authorize that?”
“No.”
“Did Leila know?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
Marco’s face tightened.
“Not all of it.”
Tae stood.
Years of instinct demanded action.
Immediate.
Private.
Joon in a room.
Doors locked.
Answers.
Then Leila’s letter returned.
People do.
People have to want repair.
Tae picked up his phone.
“Call outside counsel.”
Marco blinked.
“Not Joon?”
“No.”
“Internal audit first.”
“And preserve every record tied to Leila.”
Marco nodded.
Then:
“Boss.”
“What?”
“If Joon did this without telling you…”
“I know.”
Tae looked toward the window.
Snow still fell over Chicago.
“He wasn’t protecting Leila.”
Marco said nothing.
Tae finished the thought himself.
“He was protecting something from her.”
May you like
For the first time since Leila walked away, Tae understood that the loneliness inside their marriage might not be the only thing waiting behind all those locked doors.
Someone in his own family had been using them too.
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