As the cook continued walking, his mind drifted back to that winter day. It was an unusual morning, and the hotel Sunshine was busy. That day, he had a fight with his father, and his half-brother got to manage things again.
In the study room of the hotel, where only the elite could enter, a young cook stepped inside.
"Father, when will you acknowledge me as your son? If this continues, doesn't it mean you are hiding me and rejecting me because of your wife?"
"Hans, it is complicated right now."
"Complicated? You had me with my mother by raping her, then left me alone in a villa for years. And after my mom died, you married someone else who was already pregnant with your child."
"Shut it, Hans! Your mother was nothing but a stain in my life. She couldn't even hide the rape and had an illegitimate son like you. My true love was Katherine and always has been. A slut is a slut...she should have dressed more properly. She was lucky she was pregnant, or I would have killed her. Because of her, Katherine almost lost her feelings for me."
"Katherine this and Katherine that. How was it my mom's fault for your inability to control yourself? And how am I illegitimate? My mother's family forced you to marry her on paper. I was the firstborn. You divorced her right after Katherine got pregnant. This whole hotel should belong to me. You always pulled the strings so I couldn't inherit it, and you ruined my life. What do I even have left after today?"
"Don't you dare try to ruin your brother's special day. Today is my handover to Clonsen."
The cook said nothing and went downstairs to the kitchen.
At that moment, a pregnant lady with a large belly came to complain.
"Excuse me, I said I want no shrimp in my soup. I am allergic to shrimp."
The cook snapped. His disdain for pregnant women had grown, and he wanted to vent that frustration. He grabbed her by the arm and threw her out into the cold.
"Then don't eat it. You know, I hate pregnant women the most. You complain about everything. My mother never had that chance. Oh, how nice it must be that your husband loves you and your wishes matter the most."
What the cook didn't know was that the maid's daughter had taken photos of the scene and hidden them. She knew he was wealthy, and she knew the boss would try to make the news of a body being found disappear for his other son's handover.
Her plan was simple: hide the photos and use them later as leverage for a better life.
What she didn't know was that the boss hated his son and wouldn't give him a dime. Nor did she know that if his father discovered the truth, the cook would be sacrificed for public image. And no one except her and the maid knew they were father and son.
After the news reported that a woman had disappeared and might have run away, the maid's daughter was thrilled. She ran to the cook's kitchen and hid the newspaper and the photos inside the cook's favorite vase as a safety net, knowing he never touched or opened it. It was a keepsake from his mother.
Now, she held all the proof in her hands as leverage.
Then the cook came in, and she started.
"I know what you did. If you don't want the news to get out, you better pay me one million dollars."
The cook froze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he wiped his hands on a cloth and looked at her.
"A million?" he said quietly. "You think I have that kind of money?"
She smirked. "Don't act like you're poor. I have proof."
She pulled out a photo just enough for him to see—a blurred image, but clear enough to recognize the woman in the snow… and him.
His jaw tightened.
"You followed me?" he asked coldly.
"I saw enough," she replied. "And I kept enough. So unless you want this all over the news, you'll pay."
Silence filled the kitchen. The distant noise of the hotel carried on as if nothing had happened.
He stepped closer, his voice low.
"You're making a dangerous accusation."
"And you did a dangerous thing," she shot back. "So what's it going to be?"
He stared at her for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he said. "You'll get your money."
Her lips curled into a satisfied smile.
"Good. I knew you'd understand."
"But not here," he added. "Come back tonight. Alone. At the villa. "
She hesitated for a brief second, then nodded. "Midnight."
She turned and walked away, her heart pounding with excitement.
The cook watched her leave, his expression darkening.
"Midnight," he murmured.
Then, under his breath..
"This ends tonight."