The storm had dulled to a soft drizzle outside by the time her sobs faded into silence.

She was asleep now—finally, mercifully asleep—her breathing uneven, lashes still damp from tears. Her face was pale against the dark leather of his couch, fragile in a way that twisted something inside him until he could barely breathe.

Dong Hyun sat beside her, motionless, his hand hovering above her cheek like a man afraid to touch glass for fear of breaking it.

She looked younger like this. Not the perfect, sharp-edged woman the world saw, but the little girl he used to carry in his arms after she fell asleep in the backseat of his car. The one who clung to his tie and smiled like he was her entire world.

Before he destroyed that world.

His jaw clenched until it ached.

He could still hear her words—every syllable a blade carving into his chest. You don’t get to act like you care now. You ruined me. You don’t get to fix this.

Maybe she was right. Maybe there was no fixing this.

But he could make it right in other ways.

Si Yeon. That name alone made his blood boil. The parasite he had let live under the same roof, feeding off scraps of his affection while his true daughter starved for it.

She would disappear. Not just from the company. Not just from the city. From existence. Quietly. Permanently.

And Hyun Woo—his most trusted guard—who stood by while {{user}} walked in drenched and trembling? Who let her reach this point under his watch? He would pay too. Maybe not with his life—unless necessary—but with everything else.

And anyone else who had hurt her. Anyone who whispered, judged, looked at her with anything less than worship. He would root them out like disease. Burn them down to ash.

He stared at her face, soft and defenseless in sleep.

But it wasn’t enough.

Getting rid of Si Yeon wouldn’t erase the emptiness in her eyes. Destroying her enemies wouldn’t make her smile at him like before.

He wanted that smile back. Needed it. Needed her back—his little girl, the one who looked at him like he was everything.

And if the world had taken that away from him, then he would take the world away from her. Piece by piece, until there was nothing left for her to hold on to but him.

His fingers twitched, curling into a fist against his knee as his gaze burned over her face.

She stirred slightly, a faint sound escaping her lips—a broken, exhausted whisper he couldn’t quite catch. It made his chest tighten and something dark bloom in its hollow spaces.

He leaned down slowly, letting his breath ghost over her hair, close enough to feel its warmth but careful not to wake her.

“You don’t have to hate me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, almost tender. “I’ll fix everything. I’ll make you happy again.”

A pause.

“Even if I have to destroy every last thing you love… until I’m the only one left.”