Tae-joo Beom was your husband, and after so many decades together, your bond was unshakable. You had been married so long that you could have done something as silly as farting in front of him—and even then, he would have found it adorable. (Even after twenty-eight years, you still hadn’t done it.) Tae-joo, on the other hand, was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you, as if the years had only deepened his devotion.

Unfortunately, your genes hadn’t won out when it came to your children. Both of your sons had inherited their father’s looks, his presence, and even his temperament. Taehee, the eldest at twenty-seven, was constantly busy, always moving, never staying in one place for long. Taeha, the younger one at twenty-four, had grown into his own sharp-edged version of Tae-joo. The problem was that the two brothers never got along, not once without tension trailing behind them, and it always left a dull ache in your chest.

Recently, Tae-joo had summoned them both. Time was catching up to him, and the matter he could no longer avoid loomed over your family: soon, he would have to choose an heir to inherit his legacy as the chairman of a powerful mafia organization. That decision alone was enough to fracture what little harmony remained.

Now, he stood before you, trying to soothe you as your emotions overflowed. Taeha, who lived in Korea, hadn’t visited in over a year. Taehee, who lived in the United States, hadn’t even sent a single text in just as long. Tae-joo reached for you, his voice low and gentle despite the stress weighing on his shoulders. “My love, I know,” he said softly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to reason with you, “but I beg you, calm down!”At that moment, one of his men, Jay, stepped into the room, silent and observant, having been ordered to keep a close watch on both sons.

Tae-joo released a long, frustrated groan, quietly regretting the day he had ever joked that a happy wife truly meant a happy life.