"What the fuck are you doing here?"

It was sheer rage that lifted my feet from the ground, which seemed to tremble beneath me. It took me from the corner where I stood to Park Jimin's car, and I really didn't know how or what I looked like when I stormed over there. Inaya's gasp was one of the elements that reconnected me to the reality of my surroundings. It came out startled as my fists crudled his pristine white shirt, which I had promised would need bleaching after I spilled his blood on it. It was that same gasp that kept me from connecting my right with his nose, and for that I really blame her — for the effect she had on me and the power with which she maneuvered me left and right. Another element was her hands holding onto my shirt in a desperate attempt to get me off the fucker and her hoarse voice when she spoke to me.

"God, Yoongi, don't do anything stupid and let him go right now."

But I wanted to do a lot of stupid things when he looked at me with a mocking grin, daring me to show him what I had in store for him. I wanted to make him pay for what his father had done to my family, for the betrayal, and for his shameless presence outside my house after all he'd done. God, I didn't even mind going straight back to prison if it meant serving time for his murder. His soul would settle a score that desperately needed to be paid.

I grabbed him tighter by the collar and yanked him up so we were eye to eye, nose to nose, and God, I despised that he was still breathing and using up precious oxygen."I asked you a question. How dare you come into my house after what you've done?"

His composure and the way he refused to defend himself tugged at my last nerves. His hands remained limp against his body while he looked at me with an insufferable grin that I really itched to wipe off his face. I felt Inaya's hand slowly leave the lapel of my shirt in a state of hesitation and confusion that certainly matched her face, even though I didn't take my eyes off the bastard in front of me to check on her.

I had never introduced her to this side of me. Granted, she'd seen me at my lowest— the depressed alcoholic and junkie that I was, but she'd never seen my aggressive, rage-filled side, just as I'd never introduced her to my past or the people who'd contributed to what I'd become. It was safer that way — safer to maintain a veil that kept her away from everything I grieved. She was too pure to be tainted by my past. A ray of sunshine that I feared would darken as the clouds of my life hovered over it. And let's fucking face it, I didn't want to be labeled a loser by the woman I loved. Call me a coward, but I'd rather she saw me as someone who never had a shot at life than someone who had and let it slip out of his hands without a fight.

"Talk about a plot twist," the bastard intoned. His voice was light and condescending. "I really didn't see this coming. Prime entertainment, I'd admit." He yanked my hands off his shirt and dusted it off like I was a dirty bum who'd clung to him in search of a penny. "Didn't expect to see you here, Min Yoongi. Long time no see, my friend."

"You know each other?" Inaya's voice only delayed the action I had in store for Jimin. It was incredulous, almost accusatory. Or was it betrayed? I couldn't tell, and I didn't have time to dwell on it. 'Cause, see, Jimin had prayed to count his teeth, and from the looks of it, God had been listening, because instead of answering her question, I slammed my fist right against his jaw. The sound of bone hitting bone muffled the traffic noise, my racing thoughts, and Inaya's loud scream. Jimin doubled over, holding his probably dislocated jaw, while I stretched my arm and unclenched my fist to ease the pain that jolted through my arm and prepare it for another round, which I was eager to begin. The blazing sun intensified the contrast of the blood flowing from the bastard's split lip. It looked oh-so appetizing that I felt I needed to see more— much more than just the small amount dripping onto his jaw.

"Here's more entertainment for you, my friend." I matched his cold tone and unbothered demeanor, even though my blood seared in my veins when I saw Inaya run off to see how he was doing. He would survive it, unfortunately. I wanted to tell her that, but she seemed too panicked to add to her misery.

"Mr. Park, are you alright?"

Mr. Park? The feigned composure I was trying to portray slipped right off my hands as I watched her dab at his injury with her sleeve, desperately trying to remove the blood. I rushed towards her and pulled her right to my side — where she belonged— and squinted at Jimin, who burst out laughing. The maniac son of a bitch. Inaya was shaking and despite her condition, she managed to shake my hand and free herself from my grip.

"What the hell is going on here, Yoongi?" Her voice was loud, almost a shout. Her gaze was accusatory. Was she blaming me for real right now? In this situation? Sure, I didn't tell her about many things, but now wasn't the time for couple fights. Now she was supposed to stand by me. To support me. I gave her a look that suggested exactly that, with my eyes narrowed as I let out a troubled sigh and ran my fingers through my hair. She didn't seem to read between my lines. Instead, her eyes spoke volumes of anger and not a sound about cooperation.

"Are you going to tell her, or should I do the honors?" Mocked Jimin with a smirk that I was sure added to his pain. His lip was split at the corner of his mouth. Blood still dripped slowly from the wound despite Inaya's efforts.

As if she had sensed my impending attack, Inaya stood directly in front of me — right in the middle between me and the bastard — and her small, trembling hand came down on my chest in a halting motion. "No." There was anger and disappointment in her eyes. There was fear, too, and the sight tore at my heart. It was as if she didn't recognize the man she had spent years with, and I couldn't blame her. After all, she didn't know him. Not really. "This stops right now, Yoongi. I asked you a question. How do you two know each other?" She sighed uneasily and closed her eyes, as if the words she was about to say somehow pained her, "How do you know my boss, Yoongi."

Her boss? No, no, no! Life can't possibly be this cruel. It must have been a joke. A lame, sordid joke. I closed my eyes —I really closed them— and refused to look around the humble street I had grown accustomed to and accepted because she existed in a small house within it. The friendly neighborhood that had always grounded me when I longed for who I was and what I had lost, failed me down this time. And I really considered slapping my ears with my palms to get the sounds of harsh reality out of my head. I didn't want to hear the honking of the cars, didn't want to hear the loud chatter in the market down the street, didn't want to hear people greeting each other and living their lives while mine couldn't survive the earthquake it had been subjected to. I wished the earthquake had killed me along with my life instead of living to see the day Park Jimin used the only person I had left in a sick game whose rules and purpose I didn't know.

Park Jimin, Park Yung-su's son, the man who betrayed my father and sent us into the fast lane of bankruptcy, was Inaya's boss. The fucking irony of fate was a big-ass bitch sometimes. Because it played with the wrong team. It attacked the wrong players. It didn't relent even when the game was over and the winner was decided. The opponent here was my father, not Inaya, and he had paid what was due. Inaya had nothing to do with my father's wrongdoings.

Park Jimin, my friend, the friend I once considered a brother, was now using the woman I loved to exact his father's vindictive agenda as if everything they had done wasn't enough. Park Jimin, the man I trusted with my secrets, only for him to use every word against me and my family.

"Your boss." It wasn't a question. It was a way of testing the appalling taste of truth on my tongue. Inaya looked shattered, broken for reasons I didn't want to know. Her eyes pleaded with mine. A silent plea to give her the answer she was waiting for. But I have no words for her, and certainly no answers. Inaya never knew who I was before I became a waste of space. She didn't know that I was the CEO of P&M, the country's media mogul. And it all seemed so funny right now because the woman who didn't know who she was with because she had never been interested in the media was now working in a field that was very closely associated with it. Inaya didn't know that my family had lost every dime due to their greed and cunningness, and she didn't know that they would never have accepted her if they hadn't suffered such a loss. Not that they accepted her now. They didn't know a thing about her existence. Inaya knew nothing about old Min Yoongi, and I really wished it would stay that way, but life seemed to have a different word in this matter.

"Her boss, indeed," Jimin interjected in a nonchalant voice as he adjusted his shirt. "See, Yoongi, life has such a detailed way of getting back at people. Hmm, what did they say again? What goes around comes around?" He looked at Inaya with a sincere smile that I was sure was an act, "Correct me if I'm wrong, dear Inaya."

I didn't think twice. Scratch that. I wasn't thinking at all when I launched at him again. This time it wasn't just my fist. This time I didn't give him time to deal with the pain I was inflicting as I grabbed him by the collar again and hissed, ignoring Inaya's screams and pleas to stop this act of craziness. I wasn't crazy. I was raging and I needed an outlet. This motherfucker would be that. "It was intentional, wasn't it, you sick bastard. You dragged her into your filthy web to get back at me. What else do you want to take? What else is left to take, huh?"

"Mr. Park. Yoongi, please stop this madness and tell me what the hell is going on." Inaya's voice was hoarse from the yelling. I really wished she would leave us the fuck alone to settle our tab. I feared she might accidentally get hurt, and my concern for her was the catalyst for Jimin's attack. He sent me stumbling backwards as he landed a sucker punch to my gut. I groaned when the pain coursed through my body like poison, and I didn't even register when Inaya rushed to my aid.

"Yoongi, are you okay?" I wasn't. I was damaged, and it wasn't that asshole's punch that had damaged me. It was the vicious blow he had dealt me through the only person I had left in this world that damaged my core. I straightened up and pulled Inaya behind me when I saw Jimin charging toward me again. God, I was so ready for him. One of us was undoubtedly going to die today. "Yoongi, please, don't." She slipped out of my grasp and stood between us again, making a barrier out of her body to keep us off each other. "Mr. Park, I'll call the police if you don't step back right now."

She was bluffing. She'd have to. Because calling the police wouldn't do me any good. I had just been released from prison. Any kind of misbehavior would land me right back in the clink. She wanted to defend me, but I didn't need her defense. I was capable of handling my own shit.

I looked at Jimin, and something passed through our eyes. It was a threat. A score announcement. He figured he had the upper hand right at that moment. He realized I was keeping secrets from her and wanted to use that to his advantage and spread my stories before I had a chance to explain myself to her.

"That wound me, Inaya-

"Quit the useless banter, Mr. Park. You've already done enough damage here. If you're not going to explain what's going on here, then please leave."

"You're hurting me again, Miss Chen, but I understand your annoyance at this confusing situation. I wouldn't like it if my partner kept the truth about who she really is from me. It appears, for reasons unbeknownst to me, that my friend Yoongi didn't introduce himself properly to, I suppose, hmm, his girlfriend? You're his girlfriend, aren't you?"

Fuck! It was happening. I could feel the desire to kill this bastard growing by the second, and I wondered if I had it in me to kill someone with my bare hands. I pulled Inaya's wrist so she could turn to face me, and what I saw in her eyes confirmed to me that this moment would change our relationship forever. "You don't have to listen to his bullshit. Let's go inside, and I promise you I can explain." I pleaded my case. Why? Simple actually. I was losing her, and it was clear from the pained look she gave me. Her eyes were glazed. Her nose reddened with the impendent tears. God, she was pained, and she still didn't know the whole truth. I hurt her, and now I was regretting many decisions I've taken during my entire life.

"I'm not going anywhere, Yoongi. I gave you a chance to explain and you blew it." She yanked my hand away like my touch was burning her skin and turned to Jimin, chin tilted and arms crossed in front of her chest. "As a matter of fact, I am. So go on."

I exhaled deeply and ran my hands over my face, covering my mouth. Jimin looked at me with victory written over his ugly face, and I struggled to keep my calm, not because I cared about going back to prison, but because I didn't want to upset Inaya further with this pathetic, childish fight. I surrendered. For her. For what was left of us.

"Daddy Yoongi!"

Our heads tilted collectively towards the little voice calling me. I never thought a day would come when I wouldn't be happy to see Gi-won. But it came, and it came today, right at this moment, even though I missed him so much after not being able to see him for more than three months. He rushed up to me and hugged my waist, and I patted his head while throwing daggers at Jimin, who was looking at the kid like he was an exotic animal on display behind the cages of the zoo. The ultimate entertainment. The surprise was written all over his face, and he did nothing to hide it or the pleasure he took in the sight of my child. He strode up to Inaya and placed his grubby hand on her shoulder as he looked at me and delivered his fatal blow.

"Let me amend what I said earlier, Inaya. If my partner—the one I have a kid with—failed to mention she's the heir to the biggest media empire out there, I'd be beyond pissed. We're talking monumental disappointment, the kind that comes with sharp questions and even sharper prenups. Catch my drift? But hey, I'll leave you to it. Looks like you have a lot of catching up to do."

The bomb exploded.

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