It has been a week ,Cold marble bit into Tulin’s bare knees, a familiar ache that had become her morning anchor.
Sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet drapes of the master suite, painting gilded stripes across the expensive Persian rug.
Luxurious furniture surrounded her, yet this room was nothing more than a polished cage where her spirit was systematically ground into dust.
Every morning began this exact same way, a silent ritual of subjugation designed to break whatever pride she had left.
She had to be awake before him, kneeling at the foot of his bed, waiting for his eyes to open.
Across the room, the sheets rustled with a soft, threatening sound.
Jeon Jungkook stirred, his dark eyes snapping open with instant, lethal alertness.
Fear gripped Tulin's throat, but she forced her gaze downward immediately, locking her hands in her lap to stop their trembling.
She had learned the hard way that looking him in the eyes invited a heavy hand or a cold, dismissive strike.
Her neck ached from keeping her head bowed, but she did not dare shift her weight.
"Up," his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
Hurriedly, she stood, her legs shaking from hours of kneeling the night before.
Bruises mottled her thighs, blooming in ugly shades of purple and yellow beneath the thin silk nightgown he forced her to wear.
Silence was her only shield now; she kept her lips pressed tightly together, swallowing the whimpers that threatened to escape.
To speak without permission was to invite wrath, and she had already tasted enough of his fury to last a lifetime.
Living as a broken doll was her only chance at survival.
A single glance from him was enough to freeze the blood in her veins.
Yesterday, she had dared to weep aloud when he dragged her by her hair across the room.
His punishment had been swift, a hard slap that left her lip split and her ears ringing for hours then he beat her with his baseball bat.
Now, she knew better than to make a sound.
Even when the pain was unbearable, she forced herself to swallow her cries, staring at the floor until the storm passed.
Jungkook slid out of bed, his towering, heavily tattooed frame casting a long shadow over her.
Buttoning his dark shirt, his eyes raked over her trembling form with cold detachment.
"You look pathetic," he muttered, pulling his leather shoulder holster over his broad shoulders.
"But you are learning your place."
He reached out, his thick fingers grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him.
Rough calluses pressed hard against her bruised lip, eliciting a silent gasp of pain.
"Keep this obedience up," he whispered, his breath warm against her cold skin.
"It might keep you alive a little longer."
He left without another word, the heavy double doors locking from the outside with a definitive, metallic click.
Left alone in the silence, Tulin collapsed onto the edge of the bed, clutching her chest as a wave of emptiness washed over her.
Memories of her past life flickered like dying embers in her mind.
Only weeks ago, she was a pampered princess, wrapped in the warmth of her adoptive family's love.
Now, she was a prisoner of a man who saw her only as a tool for vengeance.
Meanwhile, miles away in a decaying mansion that had once been a symbol of ultimate power, a different kind of tragedy unfolded.
Park minyung sat in a darkened parlor, her eyes hollow, staring at a framed photograph of Tulin.
Shattered by the loss of her only daughter, the sad woman had refused to eat for days, her body wasting away.
"Where is my baby?" she whispered, her voice a cracked, dry rasp.
"Please, find her..."
Her hands shook as she clutched the silver frame, tears spilling down her pale, hollow cheeks.
Beside her, the old mafia boss closed his puffy eyes, his bruised face etched with a decade's worth of sudden aging.
Despair hung heavy in his chest; he had already humbled himself beyond recognition.
He had knelt on the cold asphalt before Jungkook's vehicle, begging the young syndicate leader for mercy, offering his own life in exchange for Tulin's.
Jungkook had simply spat on the ground ordering his men to beat him up with until her dad is bleeding can't even move and ordered his driver to run him over if he didn't move so he just crawled away from the car.
There was no hope left, no mercy to be bought from a monster fueled by pure, unadulterated vengeance.
"We have nothing left to give him, darling," the broken chairman whispered, his voice trembling.
"He has taken everything...Even my empire and companies, he brought them down in a matter of days ."
---
Back in the heart of Seoul, Jungkook spent his day tearing down the remnants of the Han empire.
Meetings with corrupt officials, hostile takeovers of shipping docks, and quiet executions of loyal Han soldiers filled his hours.
Blood stained the cuffs of his white shirt by afternoon, but he felt nothing but a hollow satisfaction.
Every asset seized, every life snuffed out, was a tribute to his murdered father.
Yet, the true prize remained locked in his bedroom, a fragile bird waiting to be plucked clean.
He spent the afternoon in his high-rise office, overlooking the sprawling city that now belonged to him.
Power was a cold companion, but it was the only one he trusted.
Reports of the Han family's financial ruins sat on his desk, but one detail bothered him.
A massive sum of money, fifty million dollars, remained unaccounted for, locked away in offshore accounts.
And the only key to those accounts was registered under Tulin's name.
A dark smile touched his lips as he realized he had the perfect leverage.
Night fell, bringing a heavy downpour that lashed against the reinforced glass windows of the penthouse.
Jungkook returned, smelling of expensive tobacco, rain, and the metallic tang of dried blood.
Walking into the bedroom, he found Tulin sitting exactly where he had left her, her head bowed, her body rigid with terror.
He tossed a thick leather folder onto the glass coffee table, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet room.
"Get over here," he commanded, loosening his tie as he sank into a plush armchair.
Slowly, Tulin moved, her joints stiff and aching.
She knelt before him, her eyes fixed on his polished leather boots.
"Look at me," he ordered, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low octave.
Raising her head, she met his gaze, her breath catching in her throat.
His dark eyes were devoid of any warmth, reflecting only a cruel, calculating intelligence.
"Your father was clever," Jungkook said, leaning forward and grabbing her chin in a tight, bruising grip.
"He hid fifty million dollars in offshore accounts under your name."
"Give me the access codes, Tulin."he still thinking that she's his biological daughter..ans she still doesn't know the truth too .
"I don't... I don't know them," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I swear, my father never told me anything about his business."
A harsh slap echoed through the room, sending her sprawling onto the hard floor.
Pain flared across her cheek, but she forced herself to remain silent, curling into a ball on the rug.
"Do not lie to me!" Jungkook roared, standing up and towering over her .
"You were his princess! He built this entire empire to shield you!"
"You will give me those codes, or I will peel the skin from your bones piece by piece."
Panic, raw and paralyzing, seized Tulin's chest.
Air refused to enter her lungs; it felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing her windpipe shut.
Her severe abandonment anxiety, triggered by the violent isolation and the absolute certainty that no one was coming to save her, flared into a monstrous beast.
She began to hyperventilate, gasping for breath in short, ragged bursts that did nothing to satisfy her oxygen-starved brain.
"Stop acting," Jungkook growled, kicking her side lightly.
"Get up and sign the authorization forms."
But Tulin couldn't move; her vision was darkening at the edges, spinning in dizzying whorls of gray and black.
Clutching her chest, she clawed at her own throat, desperate for a single drop of air.
"P-please..." she gasped out, her lips turning a faint, terrifying shade of blue.
"Can't... breathe..."
Seeing her genuine distress, Jungkook scoffed, though a flicker of annoyance crossed his sharp features.
He called the maid.
She came dragging a medical oxygen tank, he took it placing it a few feet away from her.
He attached a plastic mask to the tube, turning the dial.
The gentle, rhythmic hissing of pure, cool oxygen filled the room, a promise of life.
Instead of placing the mask over her face, Jungkook held it just out of her reach.
"You want to breathe, princess?" he asked, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips.
"Come and get it."
Tulin stared at the mask, her mind screaming for survival.
The primal urge to breathe overrode every ounce of her dignity.
Dropping to her hands and knees, she began to crawl toward him.
Every movement was agony, her bruised body protesting, but she pushed forward.
Jungkook watched her with cold amusement, holding the mask a few inches higher as she neared.
Reaching his boots, she wrapped her arms around his legs, clinging to him like a drowning person clutching a liferaft.
This was her first physical contact with her captor that wasn't born purely of violence—a pathetic, codependent plea for mercy.
"Please," she sobbed against his trousers, her tears wetting the expensive fabric.
"Give it... to me... please..."
Jungkook looked down at her, his expression a mixture of disgust and dark satisfaction.
He liked her like this: broken, begging, entirely dependent on him for her very next breath.
Slowly, he lowered the mask, allowing her to press her face into it.
Inhaling deeply, Tulin drank in the cool, life-giving air, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, but the dark spots in her vision slowly began to recede.
She kept her eyes closed, still clutching his leg, terrified that if she let go, she would slide back into the abyss.
For a brief moment, the silence in the room was almost peaceful, save for the hissing of the oxygen.
Suddenly, the hissing stopped.
Tulin gasped, sucking in empty plastic as the flow of oxygen abruptly died.
Looking up in terror, she saw Jungkook's hand resting on the metal valve of the tank.
He had turned it completely off.
"That was just a taste of what I control," Jungkook whispered, his voice dangerously soft.
He tossed a black pen and a legal document onto the floor right in front of her face.
"The offshore codes are linked to this authorization form."
"Sign it, admitting to your family's financial crimes, and I will let you breathe."
Tulin stared at the paper, her chest tightening once more as the oxygen in her lungs began to deplete.
"If I sign... they will go to jail forever," she choked out, tears streaming down her face.
"And if you don't, you will die right here... slowly, on this floor, forgotten by the world," Jungkook countered, his grip on the valve tightening.
A devastating choice lay before her in the suffocating darkness of her prison.