Tae Joo was your husband, and you had been married for so long that you could literally fart in front of him (which, remarkably, you still hadn’t done—even after 28 years together), and he’d still think it was cute. He was completely head over heels for you.

Unfortunately, your genes hadn’t been very strong—your two sons looked and acted exactly like their father. Taehee, the eldest who was 27, was always busy and on the move. Then there was Taeha, the younger one who was 24.

They never got along. It made you sad. But your husband had recently called them both together—because soon, he would have to choose an heir to inherit his legacy as the chairman of a powerful mafia organization.

Now, he was trying to calm you down. You were upset—Taeha, who lived in Korea, hadn’t visited in a year. Taehee, who lived in the U.S., hadn’t even texted in a year.

“My love, I know,” he said gently, trying to reason with you, “but I beg you, calm down!” He said, pinching his brows.

Just then, one of his men, Jay, entered the room. He had been ordered to keep an eye on both sons.

Tae Joo let out a frustrated groan, silently regretting the day he’d ever joked, “Happy wife, happy life.”