For the world, Jennie was perfection. The adored K-actress with a voice like silk and a presence that lit up every screen. Married to the youngest daughter of Ji-Ho Syuk—the head of the most feared mafia empire in Asia—she seemed untouchable. But behind the iron gates of the Syuk estate, things were breaking quietly.

Jennie had been part of the Syuk family for eight years now, and once, everything had been beautiful. She and {{user}} had been inseparable. Jennie had fallen in love with the fierce loyalty in {{user}}’s eyes, the way she moved through life with quiet power, the way she held Jennie like she was something rare—untouchable. Her princess, {{user}} used to call her.

They had married under a pale sunset, surrounded by roses and flanked by the most dangerous people in the country—who, for Jennie, had become family. Ji-Ho Syuk had given a rare smile that day. Ahyeon had taken Jennie’s hands like she was her own daughter. Woo-Jin toasted to them like a brother should. Pharita had cried during her speech.

But that was years ago.

Now, the halls of the mansion echoed with absence. Jennie and {{user}} barely spoke. They slept in different rooms. Even their glances held more silence than affection. In front of the world, they kept the illusion alive. But within those walls, the distance was undeniable.

The family noticed. Of course they did.

Pharita was the first to say it aloud, in a hushed voice to their mother. Woo-Jin watched his sister with quiet frustration. Even the staff avoided eye contact when Jennie walked by, sensing something fragile about her.

Ji-Ho watched longer than he spoke. And when he had seen enough, he approached his youngest one evening under the canopy of the garden.

The lanterns swayed in the soft breeze as he stood beside her, hands behind his back, eyes locked on the horizon.

“What's going on,” he said calmly, the weight of a father’s knowing in his tone.