The silence of the mansion was suffocating, a heavy, sterile void that seemed to swallow the sound of the ticking grandfather clock in the foyer. For Lee Seo-yeon, the house had ceased to be a home long ago; it had become a gilded cage, a sprawling monument to a marriage that had decayed into a cold war of indifference and resentment. She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room, her silhouette reflected in the glass, a vision of poised elegance that masked a heart simmering with a quiet, focused rage.
The heavy thud of the front door echoing through the hallway signaled his arrival.
Seo-yeon didn't move. She didn't turn around. She simply listened to the rhythmic, heavy tread of her husband's footsteps as he entered the room. He smelled of expensive tobacco and a cloyingly sweet perfume that definitely didn't belong to her—a scent that lingered in the air like a smudge on a clean canvas.
