I've tried. I really did. But with Peter's constant hovering, it was next to impossible to sneak out into Chanyeol's study. Despite my first impression, the bodyguard was very much invested in keeping an eye on me, despite appearing bored and annoyed to be in my presence. I mean, one did not rule out the other, but after our first meeting, I thought he would just lounge around the living room, giving me relative freedom.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Turns out that his disinterest on the first day was due to him getting used to the new work environment or whatever, scouting the area and whatnot. But after adapting, he has been on my heels constantly.
No matter how much I tried to be sneaky or how stealthy I attempted to be, every time I would round a corner he would have been standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking at me condescendingly. Once I even had been foolish enough to think I had gone unnoticed and almost broke into Chanyeol's office, only to hear Peter clearing his throat behind me. His brow had been arched in question when I turned around, and I couldn't help but gulp as his form towered over mine threateningly.
I couldn't have had him know I tried to snoop around the office, so I had quickly made up an (thankfully gullible) excuse and Chanyeol hadn't been notified of my attempt. Since then, I haven't attempted to get into the room on the right side of the living room, for fear of not getting out of trouble next time.
Don't get me wrong, I would still very much pursue walking in behind the big, heavy double doors, but I realized that lying low for a little while would probably be for the best if I didn't want to get caught. Not only could I not get any further information on Chanyeol's shady call, though, but I could also not communicate with Lisa as much as I would have liked.
We would only exchange a few texts throughout the day and maybe call for a few minutes when I would pretend to be in the bathroom. However, not for longer than thirty minutes because apparently that had been suspicious behavior and Peter would come knocking on the door.
Of course, I was happy for any time I could get to talk to the raven, but I thought things would be easier now that my "dear husband" wasn't constantly around. Peter, however, was like his incarnate and it was hard to get anything at all past the bald man with sharp eyes.
A week had passed already, and I was still at the start.
All things considered, it's been hard. Not with just the feeble attempts of breaking into the door that held the key to all my questions, but also because no matter what I did or how I spent my time, nothing was ever truly able to distract me from the harsh reality.
Most of the time, I had been sleep-deprived, suffering from nightmares on the daily, only catching a break when the exhaustion was too much and I could barely breathe, let alone walk. Despite Lisa's suggestion and my empty promise, I wasn't able to call her. I wanted to, so many times in fact, that I lost count. But the thought of waking her in the middle of the night, with my voice and heart so broken even I couldn't stand the sounds I was making, didn't seem fair.
Lisa deserved better than that. Even if she had said that she wanted me to, it was just a polite thing people said, wasn't it? She didn't mean it. Who would want to listen to a woman cry for hours for someone that was no longer there?
It didn't feel right to put that burden on her; didn't seem fair. Besides, even if I kept that promise, I just couldn't risk Chanyeol overhearing. Despite having my own room now, I never felt like I was truly alone, so calling her at any time of the day felt like an incredible risk. I was convinced the walls had ears or that he bugged the place.
Call me paranoid, maybe I was, but it felt like that to me. Obviously, I knew it wasn't true hence he would already give me hell if he knew I was communicating with the Thai, but still.
So though she made the generous offer, I couldn't hold her to it. But I didn't struggle alone. No matter how much I tried to hide it from her, she always seemed to know when she'd hear my voice over the phone. She would always ask how I was doing if I was eating, drinking enough water, and getting enough sleep. Even if my answers remained unchanged, Lisa would always check up on me, anyway.
And sometimes, I would let her see. It was hard opening up when I couldn't see her gentle eyes or feel her touch. When I suspected that no matter what I said, she wasn't the only one hearing. Yet, she made it so easy still. Though I fought it every time, I wasn't always able to win the battle and I would be honest and raw how I knew she wanted me to be.
Despite not going through it herself, she was the only one that understood me; the only one who could make the pain a little more bearable. So even if I'd break down, if I'd cry into the microphone, she wouldn't end the call. She would stay and she would listen. She would whisper comforting words that, despite her lack of presence, soothed my aching heart. Lisa was the only stable thing I had in my life, the only person I could truly lean on, and the only one who made me feel relevant.
Even though I would question myself sometimes, invalidate my feelings, say hurtful things to her just so she would leave me alone how I thought I deserved to be, she persevered. If I pushed, she would pull. If I would doubt myself, no matter how many times it was necessary, she would give me the constant reassurance I needed. For what she couldn't heal with her hands, she made up by using her voice and kind words.
Lisa always knew what to say. Whatever the situation was or how low I've got, she would always say just what I needed to hear. Or she wouldn't say anything at all and she'd just listen to the voice of a broken soul, speaking empty words of doubt and self-loathing into the small device. Only after I would finish she'd speak her truth and I would somehow feel whole again.
I would lie if I said I didn't need her. That I didn't need her touch, her smell, her warmth, but unfortunately, she was out of reach, and for now, this was all I could have. And I didn't take it for granted. I cherished every minute I got to talk to her and hear her voice.
Because the truth was, she was what was keeping me alive. She was the one who was keeping me sane. And I could never thank her enough for that.
But I still felt guilty. Lisa deserved so much better than this life in secrecy. She deserved to move on with her life, not move backward, and I couldn't help myself but think I was holding her back. And so every time she would pick up the phone, an insane amount of guilt would overcome my body. Because despite her words, I knew I would never get out of here. We would never be the Lisa and Rosie we once used to be.
However, I was selfish. Despite the guilt, the hate, the anger, and sadness, despite it all, I wasn't able to let go. It was toxic probably. I couldn't be sure anymore since I wasn't really sure of anything these days, but I needed her. Needed that silver lining, that small ray of sunshine in the darkness, needed the rope to hang on to; the firm ground under my feet preventing me from falling. Lisa presented me with all, and so, despite knowing how unfair this all was to her, I couldn't let her go even if I knew it was the right thing to do.
Because without her, I had no one. I was all alone, and I knew it wouldn't take long until I'd succumb to the hell of insanity.
It was only with Lisa's continuous support that I was still here. She, and the unspoken promise I made to Annabeth to not give up for her. But I knew it would become increasingly more difficult to keep that promise without Lisa by my side. And I guess, somewhere deep down, I knew I would fail her if she wasn't with me. That the two were what was left of me.
Today, I woke up in pain. I was, as always, on the left side of the bed. However, the right side was unmade, and despite the cold surface now, I knew I hadn't slept alone. That, however, didn't explain the swelling and bruising on my body, I noticed after I lifted the sheet. Nor did it explain why my body was nude despite clearly remembering wearing my silk nightgown before going to bed.
Perhaps Chanyeol accidentally kicked me in his sleep or I fell out of the bed throughout the night and failed to remember it. It didn't explain the bareness of my body, though. But after failing to come up with an explanation, I thought perhaps I had just shaken it off throughout the night because I had grown hot. It would make sense, considering the dark blue material was thrown on the floor next to the bed haphazardly.
Chanyeol respected my space after I had lost the baby, even assigned me my own room. Of course not for my own benefit, but his. Not that his reasoning mattered. I was glad to be away from him. Yet, last night he had joined me. I couldn't recall the specifics, but I remembered a sum of it.
He found out about my calls to Lisa. I wasn't sure how, whether he really had the penthouse bugged or if Peter made the discovery and ratted me out. Either way, he wasn't very pleased, and a fight ensued. He took my phone, said I wasn't allowed to call her anymore, which was expected, still I wish he hadn't.
Without the help of a professional, and now without the only person I could rely on, I wasn't sure if I could go on for much longer. After he yelled and spat the most awful words (that truthfully hasn't really affected me hence he had spoken nothing I wasn't already aware of) he fell into the bed exhausted from work and we both fell asleep.
He hadn't woken me before he went to work this morning for what I was grateful for since I didn't get any sleep over the past three days and desperately needed rest. Plus, I wasn't too keen on seeing his face first thing in the morning.
Call me stupid, but I still hadn't learned my lesson despite all the feeble attempts and Chanyeol catching on to me last night, and I had a plan. I couldn't go on not knowing what was happening around me any longer. I wasn't even sure why I was so invested in the issue. Perhaps I tried to deflect the thoughts that so clearly needed my attention, but it didn't really matter.
I couldn't contact Lisa anymore and I could either sulk about it or hope my husband was a murderer so I could expose and divorce him. I admit, my plan kind of sucked, but I was slowly beginning to feel like I was losing my mind and if I ended up dying by his hand id have an excuse. I could say I tried to stay alive, but as life would have it, it just wasn't meant to be.
The whole plan was a suicide mission, but I didn't really care anymore. So after taking a long shower and trying not to inspect the swelling and bruises (even small cuts I failed to notice earlier), I got dressed in my comfiest clothes and walked into the kitchen to get breakfast.
As expected, Peter was already sitting behind the counter, the usual mug filled with coffee in one hand, a phone in the other.
"Good morning," I greeted as I walked past him to the fridge.
"Mrs. Park," he acknowledged, and just as expected, those were the only words he'd said to me. A small part of me wanted to bring up Lisa, well more specifically, the recent revoking of my phone, but I decided against it, not wanting to pit the man against me more than he already was by my "dear husband".
"What a wonderful morning isn't it?" I asked, my voice so sickeningly sweet I almost made myself vomit. But it was true when I looked out of the window. I was almost shocked to see the sun blaring, bathing everything within its reach in its golden rays, "It's almost calling out for a morning jog, don't you think?"
He didn't answer, so I tried again, "Do you jog, Peter?"
"I lift,"
"Don't you want to try jogging, though? It seems like the perfect weather for it,"
Again, no answer, and I almost sighed in defeat but caught myself before I could, not wanting him to see I wasn't happy with the turn of events. So without further questions, I pulled out a few ingredients from the fridge and the pantry before making a bowl of oatmeal and sitting down behind the counter.
As soon as I have, Peter stood up and moved to the living room and if I cared, I might have even felt a little offended by the gesture.
I mulled my plan over breakfast. If I learned anything from the past few days, it was that getting inside the office was pretty much impossible. No matter what I did, he would always be right behind me, watching my every move.
Stupid as it may be, my plan was simple. I'd pretend I was about to take a nap upstairs. As usual, he would go upstairs as well, but I'd be walking faster so he wouldn't see me anymore as I'd reach the landing. And once I would, I would slam a random door shut and hide in the room closest to the staircase. Once I'd see him approach, I'd quietly slip out and walk back down into the office.
It seemed simple, and very much not thought through, and I had a hunch it would not work. But I tried keeping a positive attitude. So after I finished eating and disposed of the dirty dishes in the washing machine, I made a show of stretching my arms above my head with an exasperated yawn, leaving my lips, as I walked into the living room to gaze out of the window.
From the corner of my eye, I could tell Peter was paying me no mind, and it was more than a little irritating, all things considered. He didn't even leave the room like usual when I interrupted his peace and continued scrolling through his phone like I was made out of thin air. Which I might as well be since the small breakfast was about all I ate the past couple of months.
Perhaps I've grown so thin I was easily overlooked. That, or he just didn't care enough to lift his gaze and look at me. It was probably the latter though, so I tried again. I arched my back, hearing it crack satisfyingly as I stretched my arms up to the ceiling, letting out a loud yawn that became a real one amid the fake one, becoming just one really long yawn that sounded sort of strange.
I thought I won when I heard him let out a sigh and cheered in victory, but the celebration was short-lived as I looked at him again, and his eyes remained glued to the small device. I was starting to think the man had an obsession and would have withdrawal symptoms if he didn't look at the screen for more than two minutes at a time. If Chanyeol was to take someone's phone, he should've started with Peter. Seriously, it started to look a little concerning.
Just as I was about to do something a little more drastic to catch his attention, though, Peter stood up and pressed the phone to his ear, bringing his index finger in front of his lips as he finally looked at me. It was a little unnecessary if you asked me; it wasn't like I'd start to scream or anything, but then the bald man turned and retrieved upstairs, presumably into his makeshift office in the room that was supposed to be Annabeth's nursery.
And suddenly, I was standing alone, completely unsupervised, with my face etched in a confused expression. Why did I even bother making up an elaborate plan if this was all it took?
Considering he put as much distance between us as he did, I assumed the call was important and would take longer than just a minute. And though I didn't know how much time I had, whether he'd be five minutes or ten, I needed to act before he got back. So I shook off my bafflement and moved to execute my plan that he'd stop me from executing so many times before.
Not this time mister, I thought as I walked towards the double door at the end of the living room hurriedly, my body practically leaping after the door handles. To my delight, I wasn't met with resistance when I pushed down on the metal, and I opened the door without a hitch. Considering how much Chanyeol wanted me to stay out of the room, one would think he'd at least lock the door. But hey, I wasn't about to complain.
Slipping inside, I left the door slightly ajar just so I'd hear if Peter moved to descend the stairs, or worse if I hadn't noticed he already arrived at the lower floor and I needed to hide quickly. Despite knowing deep down that he could hear me, I still tiptoed across the room, my toes burying into the soft rug I so vividly remember throwing up on a few months ago.
Once I circled the desk, lined with drawers and cabinets on both sides, and briefly wondered where to start. But seeing as my time was limited, I didn't waste a second and opened the bottom left cabinet. Despite only seeing pens, blank pages, and a few other office supplies, I rummaged through it. Just in case, there was something hidden behind the seamlessly ordinary items.
I moved to the drawer above it quickly, after realizing the cabinet really was a dead-end and contained nothing of importance. This one was also stacked with papers. These, however, contained in manila folders or held together by paper clips. And just in case it was something worrisome. I pulled a few stacks out, flipping through the pages, letting my eyes roam the words hastily.
They only seemed to be work-related though, and so I quickly put them back in their original place, making sure they looked the same way I found them. Shutting the drawer close, I moved to the drawer in the center of the desk, this one being the longest one. However, after pulling on the handle, I quickly realized that, unlike the other ones, this one had a little keyhole sitting under the golden handle and I wouldn't get inside without a key.
I cursed inwardly because fuck, I didn't have a key to his desk, and if he locked it, that could only mean it contained something important he didn't want anyone to find. Something that might interest me. But how could I get inside if I didn't have the key? For all I knew, it could be anywhere inside the spacious office, and I absolutely did not have the time to search for it. Hell, for all I knew, it might not even be here and he might carry it around with him.
Though on second thought, even if that were true, he had to have a spare key hidden somewhere around here in case he'd lose the other one, right? But that still gave me no clue where to look for.
If I were Chanyeol, where would I hide it? I thought to myself as I racked my brain for the possible answers. If I had something I wanted to hide desperately, I probably wouldn't store the key in the other part of the house, in case I needed it quickly. Sure, if he had one copy of it on him it wouldn't have mattered, but the risk is greater if two or more keys were lying around. So that must've meant that he only had one, and it was hidden somewhere in the room in case he needed access quickly.
I knew him. He wouldn't put it somewhere obvious, like behind a book or under the rug. No, he would think of something else, something where he would find it quickly and discreetly in case he needed to. He wouldn't risk forgetting the exact book he hid it in or having to crawl on the floor to retrieve it. That only left me with a few spots.
First, I thought perhaps he'd hide it behind the single photograph on his desk, but it probably would've been hard to close the frame then and upon inspection, the frame looked just fine. There was nothing glued to the bottom of the desk, neither the chair either, and so I figured it must've been hidden somewhere inside the desk.
Both the cabinet and the first drawer were empty of anything that seemed to be of any importance, so it must've been in one of the ones on the right side. It would've made sense, considering he was right-handed and it would probably be easier to reach if it really was hidden away in the desk. Because really, I was just guessing, and for all I knew; he wore it in the bottom of his expensive shoes.
Opening the cabinet, I only saw a few more office supplies, some technical things that looked like some sort of hard discs and USBs, and even though I inspected it quite thoroughly (considering I didn't have much time) there seemed to be nothing inside. No keys taped to the sides or behind the devices which's blinking led lights were a little unnerving.
I started to panic slightly considering I've already lost about seven minutes and I hadn't got any closer to what I needed to achieve. My hands were becoming clamming and my breathing labored as my nerves started to get the better of me. I wasn't even entirely sure why. I mean, what was the worst that could happen? Peter would find me, tell Chanyeol, he would yell at me and fire Peter for being incompetent. That didn't seem too bad, yet my panic suggested otherwise.
So without thinking, I pulled on the handle of the last opened drawer a little too hard, pulling it out of its drawer slides and almost dropping it to the floor, "Shit!" I cursed quietly, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I muttered under my breath as I tried to get the drawer back in place but my endeavors seemed to be in vain as my hands shook and I couldn't fit the wooden drawer back inside the, what felt like, the tiniest space in the world.
Moving my right hand to the back of the drawer to steady it and stop it from shaking so much, I once again attempted to fit it back inside. But before I could, I realized that the tip of my finger felt something other than wood, and my eyes widened. The realization began to dawn on me; I didn't pull on the handle hard enough to rip the drawer out... and so, before I knew it, I placed the drawer on the top of the desk and spun it around.
There was, indeed, a little golden key attached to the back of it and I cheered in victory silently, too scared to make any noise in case I got caught. I was aware that I already wasted a lot of time, and probably didn't have more than a couple of minutes left, so without thinking about it, I ripped the key away from the wood, fumbled with it a little (since my hands were still shaking) as I tried to fit it in the keyhole.
I kept on missing every time and was growing increasingly frustrated with myself, "Come on, come on," I grunted quietly as I willed my hands to stop shaking, and grabbed onto the end of the small key with my other hand, carefully bringing it to the keyhole and finally fitting it through.
The drawer was a little hard to open; I had to rattle it a little as I pulled it towards me, but then I got a clear view of what it contained. The folders weren't the first thing my attention was brought to, not by a long shot. Not even despite the red words imprinted across in bold letters. No, the first thing my eyes fell on was the shiny object glimmering under the soft light coming inside from the window.
Even though I had no knowledge of these things, even I could tell it was custom-made to his liking. The grip was black, had a cross on it with words written around it, in what I presumed was to be Latin, and "Jefe de jefes" written at the bottom. I didn't understand any of the words, but something told me I didn't want to know either. The entire thing was golden, well aside from that little thing on top that was silver. Engravings were littering the slide, as well as around the grip.
It looked very expensive and very dangerous, and just looking at it sent shivers down my spine as I cowered in fear and stepped away. I didn't dare to touch it, yet I couldn't tear my gaze away from the gun that sat in the bottom of the drawer, waiting to be used.
Was this what he meant when he said he'd kill her? Was this what he would use? Was this the kind of person he was? Was he really a murderer? Someone who got rid of people who perhaps knew too much? Was he always like that? How have I missed it?
A million thoughts ran through my head as I stared at the weapon shimmering in the light, reflecting it on the walls. Suddenly, I felt sick. I hated to look at it, to even be in proximity to the weapon, yet I remained looking at it. I kept staring at it in fear as I imagined his rough hands holding it, toying with it, with another person standing at the other end of it, fighting for their life. I couldn't believe it. A part of me hoped I was wrong, that I misheard, but this just confirmed everything. Why else would he have it if not to use it? If it was just on display, it wouldn't be hidden away in his desk, but in a glass cabinet in the living room. But it wasn't. It was here, itching to be used. To shoot a bullet and take something living from this world.
I wanted to turn around and walk out. To never look back and never mention or even think of what I just saw. But I couldn't. I couldn't go on and pretend that I wasn't scared. That even if he hasn't hurt me directly, he could. That he had the means to do something I was so scared of; taking a life. Not just mine, but anyone. And I loathed that I was so blind up until now. That I lived under one roof with a murderer without even knowing it.
Was this how he achieved so much in such a short time? Did he use violence? Maybe even did some transactions with people that were considered dangerous? Did he use this to threaten people? All those business meetings outside the office, where they all related to this? Because he was some... some... some thug?
As much as I wanted to run and hide, though, I couldn't. The time was ticking and though I found this, it wasn't the answer I was looking for. So I pushed all the questions and all the thoughts to the back of my head, fully aware they would resurface later, and carefully picked up the gun, placing it on the top of the desk so I could look through the unlocked drawer.
The first file I opened I was already familiar with. It was the police report that contained the information about the murder of my parents. I didn't want to go through it again. I didn't want to see his face. That would only remind me of hers. I didn't want to think about them being related because she proved to me time and time again that despite sharing the same name; they weren't the same person. She wasn't him and I had to remember that. But that didn't mean I had the courage to look. What was there to see, anyway? I already knew everything.
So I pulled it out and put it to the side, not looking through it any further. However, as I tugged on it to take it out, I noticed something else. A small black device slid to the front of the drawer, and I picked the phone up, examining it in my hands. I couldn't turn it on, no matter how long I held the power button, though. The phone must've been a burner one, considering it was way older than any of the phones people used nowadays, and I figured the battery must've been taken out in order for it not to get tracked. So I pulled the drawer open a little further, and at the back of it, I noticed, once again taped to the end, a black battery.
Quickly pulling it off, I opened the back of the phone, placing the battery in. However, I didn't bother trying to turn it on this time, knowing I didn't have much time left if any. But I had a hunch that whatever this phone contained, it held the answers I so desperately looked for.
Without further thought, I slid it behind the waistband of my sweats (just in case Peter would notice it protruding from my pocket). I would have to turn it on to find what was on it later. Right now I just had to focus on putting everything back in its place.
And just as I was about to put the report back inside, I noticed something stranger. As the stack of papers moved, they uncovered the bottom of the drawer and I had to squint my eyes to make sure I really saw what I thought I did. There seemed to be a tiny gap between the front of the drawer and the bottom.
Despite the risk it would encompass to waste more time, especially since I already had what I came for, I ran to the door to see if Id hear anything and after being met with silence I returned to the desk and quickly emptied the drawer. I crouched down, opening the right side cabinet, and took out his letter opened before sticking it in the small gap in the drawer and pushing against it.
Like magic, the fake bottom came off, and I lifted it gently, placing it next to the folder on the top of the large desk. When I looked back down, I saw three folders and a few USB keys. My brows furrowed in confusion because if he already locked the drawer and hid away the key, why would he need another secret compartment. Out of curiosity, though, I pulled out the first folder as I settled on the chair and opened it.
What I saw next made my eyes bulge out of their sockets. Because how on earth did he come to possess this? I was sure that I had it hidden away among my things and there could only ever be one copy, right?
So how come I was staring at the same exact writing, the same exact signatures, the same exact words?
Dear Chaeyoung,
if you're reading this, it must mean we've finally left to be reunited with your sister. We're sorry if this is too sudden but please know that we're at a better place now. There are so many things that both your mother and I wished to tell you before we left but probably never got to.
We know we hadn't been showing it ever since your sister passed, but we both love you so much, Chaeyoungie. You are someone who we are so incredibly proud of and who brings us so much joy. I wish we would've told you to your face instead of like this. We're so sorry our grief blinded us and we were never able to process it when Alice died. You were still there, we still had a daughter, but back then we refused to see it. We hurt you a lot and for that; we are incredibly sorry. It was only when you were away at college that we realized how much we neglected you and how much it must've hurt you. We will never be able to apologize for it enough, neither could anything we'd ever say make it alright. Sorry for not giving you the childhood you deserved and being selfish. Losing your sister must've been devastating for you, yet we closed off and let you deal with it by yourself. And that is unforgivable. But please know that we always loved you, Chaeyoungie. Even if we didn't say it nearly enough or showed it, we always loved you and we always will. You are our daughter, our little sunshine, and we hope that somewhere in your heart you will find it in you to forgive us. At least to some extent, because we know we don't deserve your forgiveness. So even if you decide to hold a grudge against us forever, we will understand. We deserve it.
It was too late when you left for America and we never got the chance to tell you the things we wanted to, so we will tell you now. We are both so incredibly proud of the woman you've become. You're strong and educated, you've grown up to be kind and selfless even when we've shut you out. You overcame all your hardships and became this incredible person who always strives for the best, and we couldn't be happier to see you grow. All we ever wanted for you is to be happy, so please, don't do the same mistakes we did. Find yourself a good husband, one that will take care of you. Follow the proper etiquette of a wife so you can make us even more proud from up there. Arguments and fights are inevitable in the war of love, however, don't let yourself forget about the truly important thing - family. You must protect the bond you and your husband will share one day, so even if things get hard sometimes and you might not always get along, always treat him with the same respect you showed us, okay? That's the only way you can lead a happy life. Keep in mind what a man's role in a family is. He takes care of the wife and children so they can have a comfortable life, the same way I did for your mother, you, and Alice. Your mother and I also fought from time to time but it's important that at the end of the day we forgave each other. Even when I was being foolish, she never spoke against me though, and that's the kind of support you need to show as well. Some days are harder than others on us, so please take that into account in the future and spread the love I know that you carry in your heart. Spread that kindness to those who are kind to you in return.
We feel bad for even asking you this, considering the pain we've put you through, yet we have to; there's something we need to ask of you, my little Chaeyoungie. I know we agreed you wouldn't take over the family company, and I stand by that, but I couldn't find a successor. Someone has to take over after I die and I don't want that to be anyone other than you. We were fighting with the PCY's since I can remember and it is now that I'm old that I realize just how foolish it was. Why fight one another when we can help each other.
So with this final, one last wish, I ask of you Chaeyoung; please merge our company with theirs. I don't want this petty fight to carry on after I'm gone. Marry their son, it will make the merge so much easier. He is a nice young man. Both your mother and I spent some time with him to make sure we picked the right suitor. He's educated, kind, and he'll take good care of you. So please, if you loved us at least a little, do this one thing for us. Take care of the company, let yourself be happy. He will take care of everything you don't even have to participate in it, just like you've wanted. We sincerely hope you can honor our last wish.
Love,
mom and dad