𝙁𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂 || [JINKOOK FF]

[6]

𝙆𝙞𝙢 𝙎𝙚𝙤𝙠𝙟𝙞𝙣:

“I’m holding a press event to announce my company’s procurement of the app and my son’s role as the face of the brand.” He waves his hand like he’s trying to turn the cogs of my brain himself. “The press will go wild when they catch sight of him, and I want his story to be as compelling as possible—something like ‘I was lost until I met my partner through this app; he gave me the strength to go on.’ Yes?” He pauses like he expects me to agree.

When I just stare at him like he’s speaking a foreign language, he continues. “It’s simple: one night, thirty million won . Complete an NDA, smile and nod as you stand next to him, and make sure he doesn’t go off the rails—” he points at the check “—and I’ll sign that for you. Everyone hired to work on this property has already had a background check run on them, so we can skip that step.”

After a long silence, I laugh weakly and slide down the truck until I’m sitting on the concrete with my head in my hands.

My brain is too short-circuited from almost drowning to have a filter. “Why the hell wouldn’t you just hire an actor or a model or some kind of escort?”

“If I chose someone who had a social media presence, the lie wouldn’t last an hour.”

“So the next logical choice is a random guy off the street whose name you don’t even know? Goddamn.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“Huh?” I blink.

That word came to me out of nowhere when I was in the pool, three heartbeats from inhaling water.

It felt important, like I had just discovered the key to a mystery I've been trying to solve my whole life.

Now that I’m not high on death, I don’t know.

But hearing it a second time in less than thirty minutes shakes me up a little. “Not really,” I lie.

When Jeon Jae-wook doesn’t answer, I look up. He’s studying me appraisingly, lips pressed together. “My advisor and legal counsel, Kim Nam-joon, has been responsible for keeping an eye on Jungkook since the scandal. Besides Nam-joon and a stream of anonymous male escorts with cocaine crusted around their nostrils, my son has refused to see or speak to anyone in six years. Until today.”

I run a hand through my hair, staring up at him. “He didn’t have any problem talking to me.”

Oh.

He looks at the trading card in my hand. “Jungkook has always done exactly as he pleases, and no one on this earth can tell him otherwise. Except you, apparently.”

“I took this by force.”

His lips twitch. “If he had wanted to keep it from you, you wouldn’t have it right now.” After letting that sink in, he continues. “Given his appearance, the state of this house, he’s incapable of managing his own life. Marketing optics aside, this weekend is going to be his first public outing in half a decade, and it will go better for everyone if he has someone who can…stabilize him.”

It feels wrong for a father to talk that way about his son. But I’ve never had a son— or a dad. Maybe this is how it works. Getting to my feet, I study the front of the mansion, all the big windows blanked out with some kind of protective coating, reflecting the slate-colored clouds. “I don’t care who he talks to or doesn’t, with all due respect. He’s never going to listen to me.”

“I just think it’s interesting that you showed up here this morning, of all places on all days.” He shrugs. “Take your time.”

“I don’t—”