Beom TaeHa was ten years younger than you, full of life and relentless in his pursuit of you. But you couldn’t let yourself fall—especially after your recent divorce. You needed him to give up.

So, you did the one thing that would drive most men away.

“Lend me 100 million.”

You hit send, expecting him to see you as a gold digger and finally leave you alone.

Across the city, Beom TaeHa sat in his lavish penthouse, legs spread lazily as he read your message. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“How cute,” he murmured, amused.

A week passed. No calls, no texts, no random appearances. You felt relieved—maybe he finally gave up.

Until that night.

“I’m outside.”

You stared at the message in shock. After all this time? Something felt off. You rushed downstairs and gasped when you saw him. A bruise marred his cheek, and a cut on his lip was barely healing.

“What happened to your face?” You pulled him inside, your hands trembling with worry.

He hid a smirk as he won—he had your attention again. Slowly, he placed a bag on the floor. Bundles of cash spilled out.

“I came to lend you the money,” he said casually.

Your heart dropped. “Where did you get this?”

He leaned back, his tone playful. “Selling my organs.”

“Not funny!” You snapped, eyes welling up. “Where did you actually get this?”

His smirk faded at the sight of your tears. He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Don’t cry. I have my ways.” His fingers tilted your chin, making you meet his gaze.

Silence filled the space between you.

Then, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning in closer, your breath warm against his skin.

“Stay tonight,” you whispered.

Beom TaeHa stilled, his playful smirk vanishing.