He sat behind the expansive desk in his lavish office, surrounded by opulence that spoke volumes of his billionaire status. The room was adorned with exquisite furnishings, luxurious fabrics, and tasteful works of art that exuded an air of sophistication and wealth. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyline of the city glittered in the sunlight, a testament to his vast empire that spanned continents.

His empire included hundreds of restaurants, hospitals, clubs, and casinos around the world, each one a testament to his ambition and drive. He had worked tirelessly to build his empire from the ground up, clawing his way to the top with relentless determination and cunning.

But even amidst his vast wealth and power, there was one thing that eluded him—a woman he had never been able to forget.

Then after all those painful year he had first met her in one of his hospitals, where she was treating her mother for a brain tumor. He knew that her measly jobs couldn't possibly afford the treatment her mother needed. And so, he formulated a plan—a plan that would not only ensure her mother received the best care possible but would also serve as the first step in his revenge.

And one fine day he, reached for the phone on his desk, his fingers tapping out her number with a sense of satisfaction. She picked up on the first ring, her voice soft and hesitant on the other end.

"Hello?" she said, her tone tinged with uncertainty.

"It's me, Taehyung," he replied, his voice smooth and controlled. "I have an offer for you. Meet me at Beris."

That night she listened in silence as he outlined his proposal, his words dripping with honeyed promises and false sincerity. He offered to cover the cost of her mother's treatment in exchange for her loyalty, her allegiance to him and him alone.

He knew she wouldn't be able to resist the allure of his wealth and power, the promise of a better life for herself and her mother. And sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, she agreed.

He smiled to himself as he returned home, his plan falling into place perfectly. He knew that he had just made her life a living hell, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that he was one step closer to achieving his goal—destroying her, just as she had destroyed him.

Now, as he switched on the camera feed from his mansion, he saw her strolling in his garden, a bandage wrapped around her hand. He remembered the sight of her in pain, her tears threatening to spill over as she made him another cup of tea, and he felt a stab of anguish deep within his chest.

He longed to rush to her side, to take her in his arms and soothe away her pain. But he knew that he couldn't—not yet, anyway. He had to stay focused, to keep his emotions in check if he was to succeed in his quest for revenge. He had a plan, a scheme for revenge that had been years in the making, and he couldn't afford to let anything—or anyone—stand in his way.

And so, with a heavy heart, he forced himself to look away from the screen, to bury his feelings deep down where they couldn't hurt him. He had a plan, and he was determined to see it through to the end, no matter the cost.

The night air hung heavy with tension as he stepped through the doors of the mansion, his presence casting a dark shadow over the opulent surroundings. He exuded power and danger, his cold exterior a shield against the world.

As she served him his dinner, he glanced up at her with a look that sent shivers down her spine. "You cannot freeload off of me," he said bluntly, his voice like ice. "If your mother needs food and money for her treatment, then you will work for it."

Her heart sank at his words, the harshness of his tone cutting through her like a knife. She had hoped for a moment of respite, a chance to forget the turmoil of their marriage, but it seemed that was not to be.

"You will join me in the office," he continued, his voice brooking no argument. "You will be my personal assistant, my slave if you will. And when we come back home, you will take care of the mansion. I've fired all the servants—I have you now."

Her breath caught in her throat at his words, the weight of his expectations pressing down on her like a heavy burden. She knew she had no choice but to comply, to bend to his will and do whatever it took to ensure her mother's survival.

"And let's not forget your managerial skills," he taunted, his words like poison on her ears. "You were already juggling two or three jobs before we married. You can handle this."

She looked at him in disbelief. Was this really the same man she had known in school? The one who had been so sweet and kind, who had swept her off her feet with his charm and wit? But now, all she saw was a stranger—a brooding, cruel man who seemed determined to crush her spirit under his heel.

As he sat at the head of the dining table, his presence commanded the room, his steely gaze fixed on her like a hawk. She stood before him, her heart racing with trepidation, unsure of what he would demand of her next.

"When I speak to you," he began, his voice low and commanding, "I expect you to answer with 'yes, sir'."

His words hung heavy in the air, filling the room with an oppressive silence. She felt a chill run down her spine at the authority in his tone, the implicit threat underlying his command.

"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. "Good," he said, his voice softening slightly. "From now on, you will always address me as 'sir'. Is that clear?"

She swallowed hard; her throat tight with fear. "Yes, sir," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Very good," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Now, sit down at eat."