

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

Na-yul had been having a miserable time lately. The workload was already overwhelming when shared among three people, and on top of that, she constantly had to clean up the messes caused by her junior colleague. “…Kwon Si-jin….” That bastard. Kwon Si-jin was a completely hopeless human being. Hopeless in character, hopeless in the words he spoke—a man who knew better than anyone how to trample on another person’s dignity and self-worth with his words alone. And once again today, because of that utterly hopeless man… Grinding her teeth, Na-yul stared at her frozen computer screen for ten straight minutes. It was already 11 p.m. Friday night. 11 p.m. Drawn by the distant glow of light, guided purely by rage and instinct, she marched straight into CEO Kwon Si-jin’s office and flung the door open. “Sir, I really don’t think this is acceptable. I—” “……” “Sir? Are you okay?” Their eyes met in midair. Hot breaths tangled with cold ones. Time seemed to stop completely— Leaving Na-yul face to face with her boss, who was behaving suspiciously late at night during overtime.