"Daddy," he whispered. "I miss you… Where are you?"
The house remained silent.
And for the first time, Taesan realized—he was all alone.
***
The night settled over the vast estate, casting long shadows across the grand hallways. In the dim glow of the fireplace, Taesan remained curled up on the floor, beneath the portrait of his father, his tiny body rising and falling with slow, even breaths. Somewhere in his dreams, he must have still been waiting—for warmth, for reassurance, for his father who never returned.
A soft creak echoed as the nanny approached, her stepd quiet as she gently scooped the small boy into her arms. She carried him upstairs, his head resting against her shoulder, oblivious to the world as she tucked him into his enormous bed.
Outside the doorway, Park Shinyu stood motionless, her gaze locked on the child. Through the narrow gap, she watched as the nanny carefully pulled the blankets over him, smoothing out the fabric with quiet care.
A deep breath left her lips, barely audible.
"He can manage on his own now," she murmured to herself, though the words held a weight she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
She turned on her heel, stepping away from the room. Without hesitation, she reached for her phone and called her lawyer.
"Prepare the documents," she ordered, her voice firm and unwavering. "Make sure everything is finalized by tomorrow."
***
The next day
The morning air carried the distant hum of a car rolling through the iron gates of the Jeon estate. A sleek black limousine came to a smooth halt before the grand entrance, its tinted windows gleaming under the pale sunlight. The doors swung open, and a pair of designer heels clicked against the stone pavement.
Jeon Suji had arrived.
The eldest child of the Jeon family, Suji was a force of nature—poised and razor-sharp in both her words and her intentions. Having spent the last several years abroad in London, she had returned not out of sentiment, but because she had heard whispers—whispers of documents, of division, of a threat to what she believed was hers.
Dressed in an immaculate beige suit, her long, jet-black hair cascaded down her back in perfectly styled waves. She removed her sunglasses with a practiced ease, revealing cold, calculating eyes that swept over the mansion's entrance.
The butlers bowed as she strode inside, her presence sending an unspoken tension rippling through the household. Servants moved swiftly, ensuring nothing was out of place.
She wasn't here for a reunion.
Inside the grand living room, Shinyu sat with a composed expression, her manicured fingers delicately wrapped around a porcelain teacup. As Suji stepped in, her mother barely spared her a glance.
"You came quicker than expected," Shinyu remarked, setting the cup down on its saucer.
Suji arched a brow, slipping off her coat and draping it over the armrest of a nearby chair. "And you didn't think I would?" she mused. "When I hear rumors about my father's empire being carved up, it's only natural I take the first flight back."
Shinyu let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back. "Is that so?"
Suji's expression hardened. "Why did you call the lawyer, Mother?"
A pause.
Shinyu met her daughter's gaze, unreadable as ever. "To ensure Taesan's future."
Suji scoffed. "You mean to ensure he gets a share of what should belong to me?"
The air between them grew heavy.
"He is your brother," Shinyu reminded her.
Suji's lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. "A brother I never asked for."
Her words weren't loud, but they carried enough venom to make the room feel colder.
Unaware of the battle brewing downstairs, Taesan sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by scattered crayons and half-finished drawings.
His small hands moved carefully over the paper, sketching out a figure—tall, imposing, dressed in a suit. His father.
But before he could finish, his door swung open.
"Taesan."
His head snapped up, eyes widening as he saw his sister standing there, her presence unfamiliar yet unmistakably daunting. He scrambled to his feet, unsure whether to be excited or afraid.
"S-Suji noona…" he stammered.
She tilted her head, her sharp gaze scanning him like he was a specimen under observation. He looked exactly how she imagined—small, wide-eyed, and utterly insignificant.
"Still drawing like a little kid?" she asked coolly, stepping inside.
Taesan blinked, clutching his paper to his chest. "I like drawing…"
Suji exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. She reached out, plucking the paper from his hands before he could react. Her eyes flicked over the unfinished sketch of their father.
A brief silence. Then, she smirked.
"You think drawing him will bring him back?" she asked.
Taesan froze. His grip on the hem of his sweater tightened.
"Face it," Suji continued, rolling the paper between her fingers. "He's gone. And nothing you do will change that."
A sharp sting of something—something he couldn't name—settled in his chest.
"Give it back," he mumbled, barely audible.
Suji feigned a thoughtful look. "Hmm… no, I don't think so."
With a swift motion, she tore the drawing in half.
Taesan's breath hitched. He stared at the torn pieces falling to the floor, his tiny hands shaking at his sides. His eyes stung, but he refused to let the tears fall—not in front of her.
Satisfied, Suji dusted off her hands. "Grow up, Taesan. This world isn't kind to weaklings."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the door open just enough for the cold draft to seep in.
Alone once again, Taesan bent down, gathering the torn pieces of his drawing. His fingers trembled as he pressed them together, as if willing them to be whole again.
A single tear slid down his cheek, landing silently onto the paper.
And in that moment, he was once again the boy no one wanted.