Chapter 117: The Knife That Cuts Both Ways

In the original story, Doyoon once introduced his family to Ji-an with: “Father passed away a few years ago.”

Doyoon marries in his early thirties; he’s twenty-seven now… the timeline fits.

Ice water poured over me.

Calm down. Don’t jump to conclusions. I could be wrong.

“Kill” could’ve been heat-of-the-moment. Yeah, that’s it…

The original route—Doyoon exposing my birth secret, Grandfather disowning me—was already scrapped. Doyoon had long decided to bury it forever. After Noh Jae-sik’s kidnapping, he and Mother were protecting me together.

But…

That was because I changed and got close to Doyoon. Parts I never touched—unwritten in the original—were a black box.

What if, in the original, Noh Jae-sik had been bleeding Mother dry? She refused like now, so he ran straight to Father and spilled everything?

Father’s reaction? I’d just witnessed it.

What would original Shin Mi-sun have done? I stared at her, eyes trembling.

“…How will you fix it?”

No answer. Instinctively, I double-checked the door was shut. Gripped her hand, whispered:

“You’re not… thinking anything crazy, right?”

She gave a faint smile—eyes lifeless, eerie. Mumbled like a vow:

“Seunghyun-ah, don’t worry. Mom won’t divorce.”

“…”

“No way—not like this.”

“Then what will you do?”

“…One week is enough. I can handle it.”

She kept repeating it.

I didn’t want to think it, but she looked ready to snap.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Let’s talk it through.”

“I said I’ll handle it!”

She snapped, then looked startled—like waking up.

“Sorry, Seunghyun-ah, I didn’t mean to yell…”

Thank god Seunghee and Doyoon weren’t home. Fewer witnesses to this mess.

“…It’s fine. Rest. I’ll have staff clean.”

Pushing now would get nowhere—she was too raw. I calmed her, fled to my room. Bit my nails anxiously… then called Yu Hyung-ju. Late, but he picked up instantly.

<Hyung? You okay? Heard you discharged. Couldn’t even visit—worried sick.>

“…Yeah, Doyoon told me. You’ve got cop contacts—thanks. Helped a ton, never properly thanked you.”

<Hah, you know how freaked I was? Not bragging, but without me? Big trouble.>

He sounded thrilled. Spilled his heroics unprompted, told me to call if anyone bothered me. I smiled faintly.

Hyung-ju changed most from the original. Loan shark turned cop ally—proud.

Yet here I was, asking him for something shady.

I hesitated.

“You… make spy apps?”

<Hyung! That’s only for catching criminals. I can prove it. Never for bad stuff.>

He sounded wronged. I shut my eyes tight.

“Can I ask a favor?”

<Of course. What?>

“Need to… track someone’s calls, meetings, conversations. Phone hack and physical tail if possible.”

His voice turned grave.

<Another stalker? Who?>

“…My mother.”

<Ah…>

Silence. My voice shook:

“It’s… important. Sorry.”

He rallied, cheerful.

<Psh, no biggie. Just install my app—leave the rest to me. Wow, living right paid off—hyung asking me for help. Life well-lived.>

“…Hard now—tomorrow. And don’t tell Doyoon. It’s… Mother, so…”

<Obviously. Client privacy first.>

His forced brightness stung—grateful, guilty. No other way. I added hesitantly:

“And… any data salvaged from Noh Jae-sik?”

<Mostly wiped permanent… but I’ll dig.>

“Thanks.”

Hung up, deep breath.

Don’t blindly suspect. But can’t blindly trust.

Just verify.

Tragically, I was right. Didn’t even need a week.

Next day, Mother started meeting shady types—private investigators, errand agencies. Search history: contract killing. She deleted after, but with the phone compromised, pointless.

Hyung-ju tried not asking, but when she met obvious thugs, he carefully texted: Everything okay?

I couldn’t answer.

Please… let me be wrong.

I didn’t want her committing a greater sin over Choi Young-gil. Murder wasn’t adultery. I couldn’t stay detached like with side characters anymore—I knew they were real.

Randomly, I thought of Doyoon—unrelated.

If I accepted his feelings…

We’d live hiding the truth forever. No one would accept our shifted bond. Didn’t mind the rejection—I didn’t want drama either.

But secrets rot you from within.

Mother again.

A tiny lie, a deception—she was at the brink of losing her humanity. That secret made her miserable her whole life.

Our relationship? Prime blackmail material if known.

That night, I thought endlessly. Worried for Mother, Doyoon, myself. Futures, predictions—no answers.

But one conclusion was clear:

Those who can be happy should be.

Doyoon buried in backlog trips was a blessing. Facing him, I’d crack.

Next evening, I found Mother—exhausted, lifeless.

“Super busy lately. Hard to see you.”

“…Meeting lawyers. Tired—important? Tomorrow.”

I watched her wave dismissively at her desk.

“Not just lawyers—that’s why you’re drained.”

“What?”

“…I know what you’re planning. Stop.”

She looked up—eyes flashed, not panic. Cold, resolved calm. Silence. She said evenly:

“I said I’ll handle it.”

“I know you’re not that tough. How much more pain do you want?”

She clamped her mouth. I approached, knelt before her desk, looked up.

“I want you happy.”

Her face nearly crumbled. Looked away, then softly:

“How, after losing everything? What did I endure for…?”

“I know—for me.”

I took her hand, pleaded earnestly:

“I can’t be Haewon chairman, but I can help now. You won’t lose a thing.”

Not even your conscience.

Swallowed the last part.

“…Leave it to me.”