Across the city…
Xiamen sat on the edge of her bed.
Haoyu slept in her arms, small fingers curled against her chest, breaths soft and even.
She brushed a trembling hand over his hair.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I'm so sorry, baby."
She felt it—something shifting in the air.
A storm rising from two different directions.
Her father.
And Hong Yi.
Both closing in.
Both hunting what she had buried.
She tightened her hold on Haoyu, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
"I won't let them take you," she breathed.
"I don't care what I have to do."
Outside her window, the wind howled—like a warning.
Like a countdown.
---
Meanwhile…
A message appeared on lin's encrypted
screen.
New lead: Busan clinic. Someone already paid to lock the physical archives.
Requesting permission to breach.
Lin exhaled sharply.
Then he typed:
Permission granted. Move. Before they get it first.
He hit SEND.
Hong Yi confronts Xiamen angrily and demands: "Tell me who is the father.
The corridors of the old villa were silent, but Hong Yi's footsteps thundered through them like a storm. His jaw was clenched, fists tight. His team's report still burned in his hand.
No father. No name. No man recorded.
Just one line over and over:
"Xiamen gave birth alone."
For any normal person, the answer would be obvious.
But for Hong Yi—
it was impossible.
He had watched her swallow the contraceptive pills on their first night.
He had ended their marriage the next morning.
He had walked away believing there was no future left between them.
So Haoyu could not be his son.
There was no way.
But then why did something feel wrong?
Why was his chest tightening since the moment he read that report?
He reached Xiamen's door and pushed it open without knocking.
Xiamen jerked up from the bed, startled, a glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor.
Hong Yi didn't care.
His voice was sharp, almost shaking with anger he didn't know how to control.
"Tell me, Xiamen—who is the father of Haoyu?"
Xiamen's lips parted, her breath stuttering. Her eyes flickered, panic rising.
Hong Yi stepped closer, his anger mixing with something deeper—fear, confusion, something he refused to name.
"I sent my team to investigate," he said, throwing the report onto the bed. "They found nothing. No man. No record. You gave birth alone."
Xiamen's face drained of color.
Hong Yi leaned forward, his voice low, dangerous.
"So tell me."
"Who is the father?"
Xiamen's knees trembled.
She looked at him with eyes full of secrets—old wounds, buried truth, and a fear she had carried far too long.
But she said nothing.
Hong Yi's voice broke, louder this time.
"Tell me, Xiamen!"
"Was it someone after our divorce? Someone before? Someone you hid from me?"
Xiamen's lips quivered, her fingers clutching the bedsheet like it was the only thing holding her up.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"I can't tell you…"
Hong Yi's heart slammed against his ribs.
"WHY?"
Xiamen closed her eyes, tears forming, fear choking her.
She thoughts herself ,I wonder how many more lies I would have to tell to hide one lie.