Y/n's Perspective —

I was in the kitchen, standing barefoot on the cold marble floor, stirring the pot mindlessly, the silence in the mansion making everything feel like it was holding its breath. My stomach growled softly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since morning.

Everything had felt heavy ever since that night. The night I thought I saw death. The night I almost lost him.

Even now, when I closed my eyes, I could still hear the crack of glass, the thud of his body, the metallic scent of blood pooling far too quickly.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was what I was hiding.

The secret tucked inside a pink file. A file I stupidly left in the cupboard—the same cupboard Jungkook had been tearing apart last night looking for his old gun parts or… hell, who knows what.

I froze mid-stir.

Shit.

My eyes widened. The file. The reports. The sonogram. The letters in bold: PREGNANCY - 6 WEEKS CONFIRMED.

My hands dropped everything as I ran, almost tripping over the carpet in the hallway, my heartbeat slamming into my chest like a war drum.

He can’t find it. Not like this. Not with everything between us already so cracked and bleeding.

I burst into the room, breathless.

But I was too late.

He was already standing there. Still. Silent. The pink file in his hand like it was dipped in poison. Or maybe salvation.

His eyes lifted.

And in them—I saw nothing.

No softness. No affection. Just cold fury laced with confusion and betrayal. Like I had stabbed him in the back in the deepest way possible.

“Jungkook,” I whispered, stepping forward.

He didn’t say a word. Just began walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps until my back hit the wall.

I gasped.

His hand slammed beside my head.

The pink file dropped.

He stared at me. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard, I swore he could hear it.

Then—without a word—he lifted my T-shirt slowly, his calloused fingers brushing against the soft skin of my belly.

It made me shiver.

His eyes dropped to the tiny swell that hadn’t even started showing yet. His lips brushed against it.

“Is there really a baby?” he asked, his voice so low and broken that it didn’t sound like him.

I nodded.

Tears burned my eyes. “Yes… there is.”

His hands curled against the wall. He stayed there, forehead resting just above my stomach, breathing hard.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

I couldn’t answer.

How could I?

I looked at him, the man I both loved and feared.

“You still think I did it?” he said after a beat. His voice didn’t waver. “You still think I raped Suyeon. That I killed her. That I tried to murder Junghyun?”

“Yoongi—” I tried.

“Don’t,” he snapped, pulling back. His eyes were blazing. “Don’t speak his name to me.”

I bit my lip. “He… he said the reports. The evidence. There were files, voice notes—”

“And you believed him over me,” Jungkook growled. “Even after everything. After I fucking bled in your arms, after I confessed what I could, even if it destroyed me.”

“I was scared,” I whispered.

“You were mine,” he said, darkly. “You still are.”

There was a pause. A silence that screamed between us.

Then his tone changed. Soft. Too soft.

“You should sleep,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You and the baby… need rest.”

He leaned in and pressed a feather-light kiss on my forehead. My breath caught.

He didn’t say another word.

I didn’t either.

I just obeyed.

Like always.

I crawled onto the bed, lying stiffly on my side, clutching my stomach protectively. I didn’t even dare to look at him.

But I could hear him.

His voice was low… dangerous… venomous. He was on the phone with someone, pacing the room.

“Get me the original tapes,” he said. “Not the ones they tampered with—I want the fucking unedited shit, understand?”

A pause.

“I don’t care what it costs. Bribe, threaten, kill—whatever the fuck it takes.”

Another pause. His tone turned icy.

“And check on Min Yoongi’s movements from last week. I want to know who he met, where he went, and what he took from the evidence vault.”

My stomach twisted.

He knew.

He wasn’t just reacting anymore. He was planning. Hunting.

And the scariest part?

He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t even furious.

He was calm.

Too calm.

That was the version of Jungkook the world feared.

And right now… I was lying in bed, pregnant with his child, while he prepared for a war I might have helped ignite.

Silently, I curled deeper into the pillow, tears wetting the fabric as his voice continued behind me—cold and merciless like a storm in the making.

And yet…

Even now, a part of me wanted to reach for him.

Because no matter how dangerous he was—

I still loved him.

God help me—I still loved him.

I was curled into myself, pretending to sleep.

The silence in the room wasn’t peace—it was heavy, like ash after a fire. It sat in my lungs and clung to my skin. The only sound was the quiet tap of his boots on the marble floor as he paced. I knew he hadn’t slept. Neither had I.

I felt him stop near the bed. The weight of his stare made the back of my neck prickle. I didn’t move.

But he did.

He sat down slowly on the edge, and after a moment of quiet, I felt the mattress dip further as he leaned in closer.

"You’re still not talking to me?" His voice wasn’t angry. It was quiet. Dangerous. Too calm.

I said nothing.

I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to speak yet. Or maybe I was afraid of what I’d say. Or hear.

A full minute passed in silence.

Then—he snapped.

"You watched me bleed on the floor last night," he growled. "You tried to bandaged me up with those trembling little hands… and now you can’t even lie in my arms to comfort me?”

His words stabbed like knives. Sharp. Cold. Deep.

My fingers clutched the bedsheet tighter.

"You think I needed a doctor more than I needed you?" he asked, voice low. “You think painkillers fix what a bullet did to me? What you did by looking at me like I’m the devil?”

I turned away, my lips trembling. A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it.

Suddenly, his hand touched my shoulder—firm, not gentle. Pulling.

And before I could resist, I felt my body being moved, drawn against his chest like a puzzle piece snapping into place. I didn’t fight.

I didn’t have the strength anymore.

Slowly… hesitantly… I crawled closer into his arms and pressed my cheek to his chest.

His hand slid into my hair, caressing it gently. But his voice… his voice was steel.

"Don’t cry," he whispered. “Not yet. Wait till next week. I’ll tell you everything then. The whole truth—with proof.”

I looked up at him, eyes swollen and blurred with tears. “W-What do you mean?”

“Who’s right. Who’s wrong. Who lied. Who used you. Who deserves to die.”

He didn’t smile.

He smirked.

A slow, dangerous curl of his lips that made the air go still.

"And your little runaway groom…" he paused, eyes locked with mine. “He has to die for what he did.”

My blood ran cold.

I pulled away slightly, frowning. “You mean—Junghyun?”

His smirk didn’t fade.

A sick feeling started to rise in my stomach, bile and fear mixing like poison.

I remembered Junghyun’s words. The desperation in his voice when he called from that burner phone last day.

"He took me."
"Your groom. Jungkook. He kidnapped me the night before the wedding. Made it look like I ran away."

My throat dried up.

“You… you did that?” I whispered, staring at him. “You kidnapped him on our wedding day?”

Jungkook didn’t deny it.

He leaned back a little, his arm still wrapped around me.

“Wasn’t hard,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “He was stupid. Drunk. And in love with the idea of saving you.”

My heart pounded.

“Why?” I croaked. “Why would you do that? We were—Junghyun and I—we were going to be married!”

His expression didn’t waver.

"You weren’t going to marry him," he said, brushing a thumb over my cheek with disturbing gentleness. “You were mine before you ever knew his name. I just… corrected the timing.”

I pulled away, shaking my head. “You stole my choice.”

He didn’t flinch.

“No,” he said simply. “I just removed the lie. He wouldn’t have made you happy. He couldn’t protect you. He wouldn’t burn the world to keep your name safe.”

My voice cracked. “And you think you can?”

“I already have,” he said. “And I will again. Over and over—until you finally accept that no matter how far you run, or how much you hate me, you’ll always find your way back to me.”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

Like he was telling me something inevitable. A prophecy I could never change.

“You can hate me,” he whispered against my forehead, “but you will carry my name… and my child. And by the time I show you what they’ve done, the only thing you’ll want is revenge—with me.”

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

My heart wanted to scream.

My head wanted to run.

But my body?

My body was curled in his arms, trembling… but unmoving.

And that terrified me most of all.

A/n's Perspective —

Okay, so I really want some motivation to continue this story. You guys only read, no comments and no vote. There is 114k reads but hardly there is 3.25k votes and 1k comments.

So, I'm setting target for the next part.

Target: 1k reads on this chapter, 50 votes, 10 comments.

Love from kookie 💋

- to be continue.