Wang's POV:
I was ready by 7 a.m., waiting in the dim quiet of my room, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Cheng had told me he'd pick me up by 7:30 a.m., and sure enough, he arrived on time, but something in me felt restless. Every minute stretched on longer than it should, and my stomach churned with anxiety.
When we got to the station, Cheng was quick to give instructions. "Let me do the talking," he said with that calm, authoritative tone of his. I nodded, but I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of my control.
As we approached the police officer, I noticed the tension in the air. Cheng straightened up and spoke first. "We're here to see Zhan," he said, his voice professional but sharp.
The officer looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable. "Zhan? You're too late," he replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone. "He's already left."
Cheng's brow furrowed, his voice calm but firm. "What do you mean, 'left'? Where is he?"
The officer leaned back in his chair, looking disinterested. "He left with his mother and lawyer. They took him earlier this morning."
A cold knot tightened in my stomach. What?
I could feel Cheng's frustration grow, but he kept his cool. "You let him leave with them? Without notifying us?"
The officer shrugged, barely looking up. "It's not my job to notify you. He's not in our custody anymore. If you want him, go find his mother." He gave a dismissive wave, as if the matter was beneath him.
Cheng stood there for a moment, processing the information. "This isn't over," he muttered under his breath before turning to me. I could feel the tension in his shoulders, the weight of the situation settling between us like a heavy fog.
Where the hell was Zhan?
"Can you please describe what the woman looks like?" I asked, my voice quiet but edged with something I couldn't quite place.
The officer paused for a moment before answering. "She's tall, commanding presence. Dark hair, tied back neatly, no-nonsense, dressed impeccably, in sharp suits, looks like someone used to being in control. I'd say she's in her late forties, authoritative, calculating. A woman who doesn't make mistakes."
His words hung in the air for a moment, but as he spoke, something clicked in my mind. The description was so familiar, so unmistakable.
Then it dawned on me.
My mother.
Her posture, her cold gaze, the way she moved like she had a purpose like the world was beneath her feet, everything he described was her. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. She wasn't just involved, she was pulling the strings from behind the scenes.
No wonder I felt like I was losing my grip. This wasn't just a legal battle. It was her game. And I'd been a pawn in it all along.
"Do you know where she took him?" I asked, my voice low, my anxiety rising with each passing second.
The officer clicked away on his computer, the tapping of keys filling the silence. After a few seconds, he sighed. "Jeju," he said simply.
I felt the weight of those words hit me. Jeju.
Without another word, I turned and walked out of the station, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Do you have a valid passport?" I asked Cheng as I hurried to catch up with him.
He nodded, unfazed. "Yes," he replied.
"Let's head to the airport now," I said, my voice urgent.
Cheng hesitated, glancing at me briefly. "My passport isn't with me. I need to pick it up from home," he said, his voice steady but with a hint of annoyance.
I hissed in frustration, frustration that I couldn't control. "Pick me up from home," I snapped as I walked outside and hauled a cab, its engine running. Cheng gave a quick nod before heading to his car, his movements calm despite the tension in the air.
I slammed the door of the cab shut, trying to push down the panic that was threatening to rise. We didn't have time to waste. And every second felt like it was slipping away.
"I need to go to Jeju Island," I said as I entered the house, my words heavy with urgency.
Grandma looked up, concern flashing across her face. "What's happening?"
"Zhan is on his way there," I replied honestly. I didn't want to lie, not when the situation felt so fragile.
"No, oh my god," Ji Li and Mia cried out in unison. "Why? What happened?" they asked, their voices filled with panic.
"Place of the crime," I muttered, my throat tightening as I spoke.
"We are coming with you," they said, determined, stepping toward me with concern in their eyes.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I need you all to stay here. Settle down, get new SIM cards, and message me when you do. I will take care of Zhan. I promise."
Grandma's eyes hardened. "No, I should be there. I was with him in the hospital, went to shout at his school, and also filed complaints at the police station. I'm a better witness." Her voice was firm, like she had a right to be involved.
I met her gaze, trying to keep my composure. "All that won't be necessary," I said quietly. "My mom went with him."
Grandma paused, her expression softening. "Oh, that's good then," she said, her face finally breaking into a smile. "She'll take care of him."
But as I stood there, I felt my heart ache, like it was being slowly crushed under the weight of an unspoken truth. My mother, my cold, calculating mother wasn't just going to Jeju to take care of Zhan. She was going to make sure she got what she wanted from him, from me. She wouldn't leave him alone until she had what she needed.
But I couldn't tell them that. I couldn't let them know how deep her control ran. I had to shield them from the ugly reality of what my mother was capable of.
So I smiled weakly, even as the pain twisted inside me, and pretended everything would be okay.
Grandma was happy, her eyes filled with relief as she prayed and thanked my mother in advance. If only she knew the truth, I thought bitterly. If she truly understood how evil my mother could be, she'd curse her instead of thanking her.
The doorbell rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I knew it was Cheng. I ran to my room and grabbed my hand luggage, my movements automatic, and walked over to Grandma. I hugged her tightly.
"I will call you when I'm with Zhan, so you can talk to him," I promised, trying to reassure her.
She nodded, hugging me back just as tightly. "Please be careful," she said softly, her voice full of worry as she let go.
"I will," I replied, though I wasn't sure if I believed it myself.
I stepped outside, met Cheng at his car, and we drove off toward the airport. The road felt longer than usual, my mind filled with anxious thoughts. I didn't even realize someone was sitting in the backseat until we reached the airport. The person slid out of the car in silence, moving with practiced ease, and before I could even process it, the car was gone, driven away by someone I hadn't even noticed.
When we got to Jeju, the plane landed with a soft bump and the announcement for disembarking crackled over the speakers. The passengers bustled out quickly, eager to reach their destinations, but I stood still for a moment, unsure. My mind was racing and my chest felt tight.
I didn't know where to go.
The airport felt colder than it should, the air too sharp. I pulled out my phone, scrolled to her contact, and stared at the name for a few seconds before finally pressing call.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Wang," her voice came through, crisp and controlled, like always.
"Where are you?" I asked, skipping any greeting. My voice was clipped, even to my own ears.
"I'm at the house," she said.
"You took him there?" I asked, my voice low, trying to keep my frustration in check.
"Of course I did," she replied coolly. "He needs to be somewhere secure. Somewhere quiet, where we can control the narrative."
"This isn't a story," I snapped. "It's his life."
There was a pause. I imagined her sitting by the window, perfectly put-together, not a hair out of place, probably sipping something warm while pretending the world bent to her will.
"Watch your tone," she said, her voice sharp now. "Everything I'm doing is to protect you. He is part of the problem."
I clenched my jaw. "He's a victim, Mother."
"And you're a judge's son," she said with icy finality. "You have a future. He's an anchor weighing you down. Don't be foolish."
I couldn't speak for a moment. My hand tightened around the phone.
"Come to the house," she said after a beat. "We'll talk when you get here."
She ended the call before I could answer.
I stood frozen in the middle of the terminal, Cheng watching me from a few feet away, brows furrowed like he was trying to read my thoughts.
"She's at the house," I said to him, slipping the phone back into my pocket.
He nodded. "Then that's where we're going."
We walked toward the rental area in silence, the weight of the conversation still sitting on my shoulders. My mother hadn't changed. She was still as manipulative, cold, and calculating as ever. The way she spoke about Zhan, it made my skin crawl.
She didn't care about justice.
She cared about control.
And the worst part was Zhan was in our house now.
Alone.
The drive from the airport to the house was long and quiet. Jeju's scenic beauty blurred past the window, the ocean shimmering beside us, cliffs rising tall like ancient sentinels. But I couldn't enjoy any of it. My chest was tight, my thoughts spiraling.
Zhan was alone with her.
I'd seen how she operated, how calm and composed she looked while destroying someone from the inside out. Words like knives wrapped in silk. Commands delivered with smiles. She didn't need violence to break a person. Her mind was a prison, and Zhan had no idea what he was trapped in.
"Are you okay?" Cheng asked.
I didn't answer right away. "No," I finally muttered.
He didn't say anything else. Maybe he knew there was nothing to say.
The house came into view just as the sun began to lower, casting long shadows across the cliffside. It looked the same as I remembered tall, gray stone, iron gates, and silence all around. Few neighbors. No lights. Just the ocean crashing below like a warning.
The driver parked near the gate. We got out, and as we approached, it creaked open on its own. She was expecting me.
The front door opened before I could knock. My mother stood there in a crisp cream blouse and navy slacks, her hair pinned back, not a strand out of place. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Wang," she said like we were old friends catching up. "You made it."
"Where is he?" I asked, stepping in without waiting for an invitation.
She sighed, closing the door behind us. "He's resting. You'll see him after dinner. We need to talk first."
"I'm not here for dinner," I snapped.
Her eyes narrowed just slightly, the only crack in her perfect facade. "Everything I do, I do for your benefit. You're too emotional to see it now, but one day you'll thank me."
"Stop acting like you're doing me a favor," I said. "Zhan didn't deserve to be dragged here behind my back."
Her lips curved into a sharp smile. "Zhan is lucky. He's being protected, kept away from the media, the police, and whoever else might want to twist the truth. He's safe, Wang. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"No," I said firmly. "I wanted him to feel safe, not you to feel in control."
She didn't answer. She simply turned and walked into the hallway, her heels clicking on the marble floor. I followed, every step feeling heavier than the last. I didn't know what I'd find behind the doors of that house, but I knew one thing for sure.
Zhan didn't belong here.
And neither did I.