The Dubai Marina sparkled under the late afternoon sun, its waters reflecting the glass towers like a shattered kaleidoscope. Soyeon leaned against the railing of a private yacht docked at the marina, her crimson Balenciaga sundress fluttering in the warm breeze. Her oversized sunglasses shielded her from the glare—and the curious stares of passersby who'd already seen that gossip blog photo. Her phone, clutched tightly in her manicured hand, buzzed again. Another notification from Jisu:
"Girl, the internet's eating this up. You and Mr. Ice King are trending. #KimHeiressMysteryMan"
Soyeon groaned, shoving the phone into her clutch. "Great. I'm a hashtag now."
Across the deck, Park Jungwoo stood with his arms crossed, looking infuriatingly composed in a tailored white linen shirt and navy slacks. The wind tousled his dark hair just enough to make him look like he'd stepped out of a K-drama poster, and Soyeon hated how her stomach flipped at the sight. He was on the phone, his voice low but sharp, barking orders about "revised projections" and "investor meetings."
She adjusted her sunglasses and sauntered over, her heels clicking against the polished teak. "You done playing CEO, or should I come back when you're less married to your phone?"
Jungwoo ended the call with a curt, "Fix it by tomorrow." His dark eyes flicked to her, unreadable as ever. "You're early. That's a first."
"Figured I'd surprise you." She smirked, leaning against the yacht's bar counter. "So, what's the plan, genius? How do we 'play the game better' than my mother?"
Jungwoo gestured to the sleek table behind him, where a tablet displayed a mock-up press release. "We control the narrative. Starting with this."
Soyeon squinted at the screen. The headline read: Kim Heiress and Tech Mogul Join Forces for Groundbreaking Dubai Development. Below it, a carefully curated photo of them from the charity gala—her in that emerald Dior gown, him in his burgundy-tied tux, looking every bit the power couple.
"You're kidding," she said, crossing her arms. "You want us to play happy couple for the cameras?"
"Not happy couple." Jungwoo's voice was calm, but his eyes glinted with something dangerous. "Strategic partners. The public already thinks we're together. We lean into it, redirect the focus to the project, and keep your mother from pulling any more stunts."
Soyeon snorted. "You think Yoonmi Kim will let us off that easy? She's probably got a wedding planner on speed dial."
"She'll back off if we give her what she wants without the marriage clause." Jungwoo slid the tablet toward her. "This project could double your family's portfolio. She's ambitious, not stupid."
Soyeon raised an eyebrow. "You sound awfully sure of yourself, Park Jungwoo."
"I'm sure of the numbers." He tapped the tablet. "And I'm sure you're not as clueless as you pretend to be."
The backhanded compliment stung, but before she could fire back, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Yo, hyung! You didn't tell me we were yachting today!"
Minho bounded onto the deck, his graphic tee and ripped jeans a stark contrast to the opulent surroundings. His earbuds dangled around his neck, and he was carrying a sketchbook under one arm. Behind him trailed Jisu, her platinum hair catching the sunlight like a halo, her neon pink jumpsuit screaming for attention.
"Jisu?" Soyeon blinked. "What are you doing here?"
Jisu grinned, tossing her hair. "Minho invited me. Said you two were plotting world domination or something." She glanced at Jungwoo. "Didn't expect Mr. Ice King to own a yacht, though. Respect."
"It's a rental," Jungwoo said flatly, already looking like he regretted this meeting. "And you're not supposed to be here."
"Chill, hyung." Minho plopped onto a cushioned bench, flipping open his sketchbook. "I'm just moral support. Plus, I brought Jisu for Soyeon. You know, girl power and all that."
Soyeon shot Jisu a look. "You're in on this?"
Jisu shrugged, grabbing a mocktail from the bar. "I'm here for the drama. And the free drinks." She took a sip, then whispered, "Also, Taehyun's been texting me nonstop about you. Dude's pissed you're stealing his spotlight."
"Let him sulk," Soyeon muttered, but her stomach twisted. Taehyun's ego was a ticking time bomb, and she didn't need another complication.
Jungwoo cleared his throat, redirecting their attention. "The plan is simple. We announce the joint venture at a press event tomorrow. We pose for a few photos, answer some questions, and let the media run with it. By the time your mother's six-month deadline hits, we'll have enough leverage to renegotiate the inheritance terms."
Soyeon studied him, searching for a crack in his armor. "And what do you get out of this? Besides a shiny new skyscraper?"
Jungwoo's jaw tightened, but before he could answer, his phone vibrated on the table. The screen lit up with a single word: Eomma.
Soyeon's eyebrows shot up. "Your mom's calling? Didn't know you had a life outside spreadsheets."
Jungwoo ignored her, answering the call with a brisk, "Eomma, everything okay?" His voice softened, and Soyeon caught a flicker of something—worry?—in his eyes. He stepped away, speaking in rapid Korean, too low for her to catch more than fragments: "...hospital... when did this happen... I'll be there soon."
When he hung up, his face was a mask again, but his knuckles were white around the phone.
"Everything okay?" Soyeon asked, her tone softer than she intended.
Jungwoo hesitated, then said, "My father's in the hospital. Minor surgery, but—" He cut himself off, as if he'd already said too much.
Minho's head snapped up, his usual grin gone. "Wait, what? Appa's in the hospital? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just found out." Jungwoo's voice was clipped. "It's under control. I'll handle it."
Soyeon exchanged a glance with Jisu, who mouthed, Awkward.
"Handle it how?" Minho pressed, standing now. "You're not flying back to Seoul, are you? You've got that investor meeting tomorrow."
"I said I'll handle it," Jungwoo snapped, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. I just... need to make some calls."
Soyeon watched him retreat to the yacht's upper deck, his silhouette stark against the setting sun. For the first time, she saw the weight he carried—not just the CEO, but the son, the brother, the man who'd clawed his way up from nothing.
Minho sank back onto the bench, running a hand through his hair. "He always does this. Acts like he's gotta carry the world alone."
Jisu nudged Soyeon. "Go talk to him."
"What? No way." Soyeon crossed her arms. "He'll bite my head off."
"Or," Jisu said, smirking, "he might actually let you in for once. You're supposed to be partners, right?"
Soyeon glared at her friend, but the truth in Jisu's words nagged at her. She sighed, grabbing a bottle of water from the bar. "Fine. But if he throws me overboard, you're paying for my funeral."
She climbed the narrow stairs to the upper deck, where Jungwoo stood at the railing, staring out at the marina. The golden light softened his sharp features, and for a moment, he looked almost... human.
"Hey," she said, keeping her tone light. "You planning to brood all evening, or can I interrupt?"
Jungwoo didn't turn, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."
She held out the water bottle. "Truce offering. Figured you could use it more than another whiskey."
He took it, his fingers brushing hers. The contact sent a jolt through her, and she cursed herself for noticing. "Thanks," he said, his voice quieter now. "You didn't have to come up here."
"Yeah, well, I'm not great at staying out of people's business." She leaned against the railing beside him, the city's lights starting to twinkle as dusk settled. "So. Your dad. Is he okay?"
Jungwoo's grip on the bottle tightened. "He will be. It's a routine procedure, but..." He trailed off, then added, "He's the only father I've ever known. Him and Eomma—they took me in when I was five. Gave me a home when I had nothing."
Soyeon's chest ached at the rawness in his voice. She wanted to ask more—about the scars he carried, about the life he'd left behind in Seoul—but she didn't push. Instead, she said, "Sounds like they're lucky to have you too. You know, being the big-shot son and all."
He let out a dry laugh. "Big shot. Right." He turned to her, his eyes searching. "Why are you here, Soyeon? You could've walked away from all this—my project, your mother's games. Why stay?"
The question caught her off guard. She could've thrown out a flippant reply, but something in his gaze stopped her. "Because I'm tired of running," she admitted. "And because... maybe I want to prove I'm more than just a spoiled heiress."
Jungwoo studied her, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, like the seconds before a storm. "You don't have to prove anything to me," he said finally. "But you do need to show up tomorrow. No excuses."
She smirked, breaking the tension. "Only if you ditch the funeral vibes and wear something with color."
"Deal." His lips twitched, almost a smile. "But only if you stop calling me Mr. Ice King."
"No promises," she shot back, but her grin betrayed her.
As they descended to the main deck, Minho and Jisu were deep in a debate about whether Dubai's skyline needed more neon. Minho looked up, relief flashing across his face. "You two didn't kill each other. Progress."
Jisu waggled her eyebrows. "Told you. Sparks."
Soyeon rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. Jungwoo, mercifully, ignored the comment, checking his phone again. His expression darkened. "Taehyun's at the press event tomorrow."
Soyeon's stomach dropped. "Of course he is. Let me guess—he's crashing to stir up drama?"
"Probably," Jungwoo said, his tone clipped. "He's been sniffing around our investors. If he's there, we need to be flawless."
"Flawless is my middle name," Soyeon said, tossing her hair. But inside, her nerves churned. Taehyun wasn't just a playboy—he was a predator, and she'd seen how he played dirty.
As the yacht's engine hummed to life, preparing to return to shore, Soyeon's phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from an unknown number:
"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, princess. Don't disappoint."
She didn't need to guess who it was. Taehyun's shadow loomed larger than ever, and with Jungwoo's family crisis and her mother's ultimatum hanging over them, Soyeon felt the game shifting under her feet.
Jungwoo caught her expression. "What's wrong?"
She forced a smile, tucking her phone away. "Nothing I can't handle. You focus on your dad. I'll deal with Taehyun."
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't press. Instead, he said, "We're in this together, Soyeon. Don't forget that."
The words lingered as the yacht glided toward the marina, the city's lights a glittering promise—and a warning. Tomorrow, they'd face the cameras, Taehyun, and maybe even their own feelings.
And for the first time, Soyeon wasn't sure she was ready.
To be continued…