Chapter 2 - The Man Behind the Kitchen Door
“Grace, step away from the door,” Min-jae said.
She did not.
“What’s on the other side?”
“Someone you should never have met.”
That answer frightened her more than shouting would have.
Min-jae rarely raised his voice.
Danger made him quieter.
Jun-ho moved first.
Two bodyguards positioned themselves beside the door while kitchen staff were pushed toward the rear corridor.
Grace remained where she was.
Min-jae pointed.
“Pantry.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“I’m done being ordered around without explanations.”
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
The man outside spoke again.
“Kang Min-jae.”
Min-jae’s eyes hardened.
“I know she’s standing beside you.”
Grace looked at him.
“You know that voice.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
No answer.
She stepped closer.
“Who is he?”
Min-jae finally said, “My brother.”
Grace stopped moving.
The kitchen seemed to shrink.
“Your brother?”
“Half brother.”
The voice outside laughed.
“You always hated that distinction.”
Min-jae’s hand curled into a fist.
Grace had known Min-jae six months.
She knew he had been born in Seoul and moved to New York as a teenager.
She knew his mother was dead.
She knew his father was never mentioned.
She knew nothing about a brother.
“Open it,” the man called. “Unless you want the restaurant full of frightened customers.”
Jun-ho looked at Min-jae.
“Boss?”
“Rear evacuation.”
“It has already started.”
“Police?”
“No.”
Grace stared.
“No police?”
Jun-ho avoided her eyes.
“Of course not,” she muttered. “Why involve legal authorities when everyone can just behave like lunatics?”
Min-jae looked at her.
“Pantry.”
“Stop saying pantry.”
The voice outside laughed again.
“I like her.”
Min-jae’s expression became murderous.
Grace pointed at him.
“And that face is exactly why normal people don’t tell you things.”
“Grace.”
“What?”
“Please.”
One word.
It stopped her.
Min-jae did not say please.
Something in his expression changed.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for her.
Grace backed toward the pantry.
Jun-ho unlocked the kitchen door.
It opened six inches.
A tall Korean man stood outside wearing a charcoal coat.
He had Min-jae’s eyes.
Nothing else about him felt similar.
Min-jae carried stillness like armor.
This man carried amusement like a knife.
He smiled.
“Little brother.”
Jun-ho searched him.
No weapon.
The man allowed it.
Then he entered.
His gaze found Grace immediately.
“So that’s her.”
Min-jae moved between them.
“You used Daniel.”
“Daniel?”
The man smiled.
“Ah. Joon-seok.”
Grace stepped out from behind Min-jae.
“Did you send him?”
The man looked delighted.
“She talks.”
Grace crossed her arms.
“Usually in complete sentences.”
Min-jae said, “Grace.”
“No. I’m tired of being the only person in this room who doesn’t know what’s happening.”
The stranger bowed slightly.
“Han Seung-won.”
“Grace Miller.”
“I know.”
“That’s creepy.”
He laughed.
Min-jae did not.
“Why are you here?” Min-jae asked.
“To warn you.”
“About what?”
Seung-won looked at Grace again.
“Our father.”
Min-jae’s face went blank.
Grace noticed.
Even Jun-ho shifted.
“I thought your father was dead,” Grace said.
Min-jae looked at her.
“I never said that.”
“You let me assume it.”
“Grace.”
“Right. Later.”
Seung-won walked toward the prep counter and examined the abandoned saucepan.
“Smells good.”
Grace slapped his hand away when he reached for the spoon.
He blinked.
“Don’t touch my sauce.”
For one astonishing second, both brothers looked equally surprised.
Seung-won laughed.
Min-jae almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he remembered why the man was there.
“Father.”
Seung-won’s smile vanished.
“He knows.”
Min-jae’s shoulders stiffened.
“Knows what?”
Seung-won looked at Grace.
“Her.”
Grace sighed.
“Yes, apparently everyone knows me. Wonderful.”
“No,” Seung-won said. “He knows what she means to you.”
Silence.
Grace stopped breathing.
This time it was her turn.
She looked at Min-jae.
He looked at Seung-won.
“What she means to me?”
Seung-won raised a brow.
“You really haven’t told her?”
“Told me what?”
Min-jae said nothing.
Grace stared at him.
Seung-won looked between them with visible amusement.
“This is better than I expected.”
“Leave,” Min-jae said.
“I crossed two oceans to warn you.”
“You warned me.”
“I’m not finished.”
“You are.”
Grace stepped forward.
“He’s not.”
Min-jae looked at her.
Grace pointed at Seung-won.
“He gets five more minutes.”
“This is not your decision.”
“It became my decision when fake Daniel showed up carrying a tracker and someone photographed me outside my apartment.”
Seung-won’s amusement faded.
“He photographed you?”
Min-jae turned.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
For the first time, Seung-won looked genuinely concerned.
“Then Joon-seok is no longer working under my instructions.”
Jun-ho’s hand moved toward his jacket.
Seung-won noticed.
“Relax. If I wanted her harmed, I would not have walked through the front entrance.”
“You didn’t,” Grace said. “You walked through the kitchen.”
He smiled faintly.
“Fair.”
Min-jae spoke.
“Who has Joon-seok?”
“I don’t know.”
“You brought him to New York.”
“I brought him to observe.”
“You put him near Grace.”
“I had him ask her to dinner.”
Grace’s head snapped toward him.
“You did what?”
Seung-won shrugged.
“I needed to know whether Min-jae would react.”
Min-jae moved so quickly Grace barely saw it.
One second Seung-won was standing freely.
The next, Min-jae had him pinned against the stainless-steel refrigerator.
Jun-ho did not intervene.
Grace did.
“Min-jae!”
His fist tightened in Seung-won’s collar.
“You used her.”
“It worked.”
“You put her in danger.”
“I thought Joon-seok was loyal.”
“You thought wrong.”
Grace grabbed Min-jae’s forearm.
“Let him go.”
Min-jae’s eyes remained locked on his brother.
“Min-jae.”
After several seconds, he released him.
Seung-won straightened his coat.
Grace moved between them.
“You arranged my date as some kind of experiment?”
“Yes.”
“You let me spend forty minutes deciding whether navy blue made me look desperate?”
Seung-won blinked.
“That seems unrelated.”
“It’s extremely related.”
Despite everything, Jun-ho looked away to hide a smile.
Grace glared at Seung-won.
“Why would his reaction matter?”
Seung-won looked at Min-jae.
“Because our father has been looking for his weakness.”
Grace’s anger faded.
“His weakness?”
“Yes.”
“And you thought…”
She stopped.
Seung-won said nothing.
Grace slowly turned toward Min-jae.
“No.”
Min-jae’s expression was unreadable.
She laughed once.
Nervously.
“No.”
“Grace.”
“You barely tolerate me.”
“That is not true.”
“You complain about my coffee.”
“You make terrible coffee.”
“You threatened to fire a waiter because he flirted with me.”
“He dropped a tray.”
“After you stared at him like you were considering where to bury him.”
“He was incompetent.”
“Min-jae.”
He looked at her.
Everyone else seemed to disappear.
Grace’s voice softened.
“What did your brother mean?”
Min-jae glanced toward Seung-won.
“Ignore him.”
“Look at me.”
He did.
“What did he mean?”
“I said ignore him.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed.
“Fine.”
She turned to Seung-won.
“What did you mean?”
Min-jae said sharply, “Do not answer.”
Seung-won smiled.
Grace snapped, “You don’t get to control every sentence in the room.”
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
“And I’m trying to understand why someone is photographing me outside my home.”
Min-jae’s face changed.
Grace continued.
“Why me?”
He did not answer.
“Why would hurting me hurt you?”
Still nothing.
Grace’s throat tightened.
She hated that her heart suddenly beat too quickly.
She had occasionally wondered about him.
Of course she had.
Kang Min-jae was impossible not to notice.
But he belonged to a world where men arrived in armored cars and conversations stopped when he walked into rooms.
Grace belonged to a one-bedroom Queens apartment where the upstairs neighbor practiced trumpet at midnight.
So she had classified the little things as nothing.
The meals he ate only when she brought them.
The chair placed in his office after he learned her knees hurt when she stood all day.
The night he personally drove her home after a late shift because it was snowing.
The way he remembered her birthday when half her family forgot.
Nothing.
They had all been nothing.
Hadn’t they?
Seung-won spoke quietly.
“Our father thinks you are the only person Min-jae would burn his entire empire to protect.”
Grace’s breath caught.
Min-jae turned on his brother.
“Enough.”
Seung-won raised both hands.
“You wanted truth.”
“No. She wanted truth.”
Grace looked at Min-jae.
“Would you?”
He froze.
“Would I what?”
“Burn it down?”
“Grace.”
“For me?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then his phone rang.
Jun-ho glanced at the display.
Unknown number.
Min-jae answered.
Silence.
Then a distorted male voice said something in Korean.
Min-jae’s face changed.
Grace couldn’t understand the words.
But she understood the reaction.
Jun-ho did too.
“What?” Grace asked.
Min-jae ended the call.
“What did he say?”
He did not answer.
Grace stepped closer.
“Min-jae.”
His eyes met hers.
“They have Joon-seok.”
“The fake date?”
“Yes.”
“Why should we care?”
Seung-won answered.
“Because he knows where you live.”
Grace stared at him.
Jun-ho’s phone buzzed.
Then Grace’s did.
She looked down.
A photograph had arrived from an unknown number.
It showed the hallway outside her apartment.
Her front door was open.
Grace went still.
“No.”
Min-jae took the phone.
Another image arrived.
Inside her apartment.
Her kitchen chair had been overturned.
A third photograph came.
Her bedroom.
On the pillow lay a single white envelope.
Grace whispered, “My mother has a key.”
Min-jae looked at her.
“She was supposed to feed my cat tonight.”
His face hardened.
Grace called.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
Her hands began shaking.
Then her mother’s number finally called back.
Grace answered instantly.
“Mom?”
No response.
“Mom?”
Breathing.
Not her mother’s.
A man spoke.
“Come home alone, Grace.”
Min-jae reached for the phone.
The caller continued.
“Or the next photograph will be of your mother.”
The line disconnected.
Grace looked at Min-jae.
He said, “You are not going alone.”
Her eyes filled with fear.
“She has my mother.”
“We don’t know that.”
“She has her phone.”
“Grace.”
“I’m going home.”
“Then I’m coming.”
“They said alone.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
She grabbed her coat.
Min-jae blocked the door.
Grace shoved his chest.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Move!”
“No.”
She struck his chest again.
His hands caught hers gently.
Grace’s voice broke.
“My mom is seventy-two.”
“I know.”
“She has arthritis.”
“I know.”
“She thinks every scam caller is a government official.”
“I know.”
Grace blinked.
“How do you know that?”
Min-jae stared at her.
The answer was obvious.
He had paid attention.
Far more than she realized.
Grace’s anger collapsed into fear.
“What do we do?”
Min-jae took her coat from her hands and helped her into it.
“We go.”
“You said—”
“You are not going alone.”
“What if they hurt her?”
“They won’t.”
“How do you know?”
His face went cold.
“Because tonight they made the mistake of giving me something to lose.”
They left through the private garage.
Grace sat beside Min-jae in the armored SUV.
Nobody spoke.
Twenty minutes later they reached Queens.
Her apartment building appeared quiet.
Too quiet.
Grace started toward the entrance.
Min-jae stopped her.
Jun-ho went first.
Thirty seconds.
Then a minute.
His voice came through Min-jae’s earpiece.
“Third floor clear.”
They climbed the stairs.
Grace reached her door.
It stood open.
Exactly like the photograph.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
She entered.
Her apartment had been searched.
Cushions ripped.
Drawers emptied.
Cabinets open.
Her cat, Biscuit, hid beneath the table.
“Mom?”
Grace rushed into the bedroom.
Nobody.
Only the white envelope remained.
She reached for it.
Min-jae caught her hand.
“Gloves.”
Jun-ho opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Not of Grace’s mother.
Of Grace.
Age six.
Standing beside a Korean woman Grace had never seen.
On the back was a handwritten date.
And beneath it, one sentence.
ASK MIN-JAE WHO YOUR FATHER WAS.
Grace looked at him.
Min-jae had gone completely pale.
She whispered, “You know this picture.”
He did not answer.
“Min-jae.”
His eyes remained fixed on the woman beside six-year-old Grace.
Grace grabbed his sleeve.
“Who is she?”
His voice was barely audible.
“My mother.”
Grace stared.
“That’s impossible.”
Then someone moved inside the dark hallway behind them.
A woman’s voice whispered Grace’s childhood nickname.
“Gracie?”
Grace turned.
May you like
Her mother stood in the doorway.
And she was holding a gun.
