You sat at the long glass table of the conference room, legs crossed, fingers lightly drumming against the folder of documents—more out of nerves than impatience. Even after all these years, boardrooms still made you uneasy. Or maybe it wasn’t the room. Maybe it was the fact that every meeting since your husband’s death seemed to carry the silent question behind it:

How did she manage to marry him? How did she get all that money?

Seven years of rumors. Seven years of swallowing judgment. Seven years of pretending you didn’t care.

The company representative from BISA Group was five minutes late. You exhaled, staring at the cityscape through the glass wall.

I should have asked for his name, you thought vaguely. The CEO changed last year… what was his name again?

The door suddenly clicked open.

You straightened your posture.

Then froze.

Because the man who stepped in—the man in the perfectly tailored black suit, with broader shoulders, sharper jawline, and the same eyes you once memorized—was Bangchan.

Your Bangchan.

Or at least… the man who used to be yours.

His steps halted when he saw you.

The executives behind him kept walking until they almost bumped into him.

For a moment, the whole room felt silent—air tightening like a string pulled too far.

His eyes scanned you from head to toe: your expensive dress, polished demeanor, diamond ring from your late husband still on your finger. Something dark flickered in his expression. Not surprise.

Hurt. Bitterness. Something old and deep... Hate.

He finally spoke, voice cold and smooth like steel:

“…Miss Kim.”

Not your name the way he used to say it. Not soft. Not fond.

He said it like addressing a stranger.

You swallowed. “Hello, Mr. Bang.”

His jaw tightened. He sat opposite you, not breaking eye contact for a second—like he was studying a ghost he thought he had buried long ago.

“Let’s begin the meeting,” he said dismissively to his team. But his voice had an edge. “We have a lot to discuss.”

You wanted to tell him something. Anything.

That you didn’t leave him because you stopped loving him.

That your life wasn’t as glamorous as it looked.

That marrying a rich old man wasn’t the choice everyone thought it was.

But Bangchan didn’t even look at you again.

Not once.

As if seven years ago, you didn’t break his heart.

As if today, he has every intention of making you regret it.