Chapter 6 - The Dinner of Glass and Steel
Saturday night, the main dining hall of the Kang estate looked like a cathedral dedicated to absolute power.
The table was made of black Belgian glass, long enough to seat twenty people, though tonight only three sat around it.
Daniel sat at the head of the table. To his right sat Serena, perfectly poised, her posture immaculate, wearing a diamond choker that glittered under the chandelier. To his left sat Amara.
She had been given a new dress from one of the estate’s private boutiques—a simple, elegant navy silk dress that didn't hide the fact that she was a maid, but made her look like she belonged in the room just as much as Serena did.
Zuri was asleep upstairs in the family suite, guarded by two trusted security operatives stationed outside the door.
The tension in the room was so thick it could be sliced with a scalpel.
“Daniel, darling,” Serena purred, cutting a slice of medium-rare Wagyu beef with exquisite precision. “Director Park called from Seoul this afternoon. He was inquiring about the wedding schedule. He wants to know if the winter gala in December is still the target date.”
Daniel didn't look up from his plate. He took a sip of red wine, set the glass down with a soft click, and said, “Tell him we’re postponing.”
The dining room went dead silent.
Serena’s knife scraped against the glass plate, emitting a sharp, metallic screech. She slowly laid her cutlery down, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Postponing?” she repeated, her voice rising an octave. “Daniel, invitations have already been sent to three cabinet ministers, the mayor, and half the corporate board in Seoul. You cannot simply postpone an alliance of this magnitude because of... of a domestic disruption.”
“It is not a disruption,” Daniel said calmly. His dark eyes flicked up, locking onto Serena with a terrifying stillness. “It is my family.”
Amara kept her gaze fixed on her plate, her heart hammering against her ribs. She could feel Serena’s hatred radiating across the black glass table like physical heat.
“Your family?” Serena laughed—a brittle, dangerous sound. She turned her head, fixing her cold gaze on Amara. “Do you hear this, Amara? She plays the victim, sneaks into the east wing under a false name, traps a powerful man with a child of questionable origin, and suddenly she’s royalty. How much did it cost you to buy those hospital records, my dear? How many men did you sleep with before you decided Daniel was the wealthiest mark in Chicago?”
Before Amara could draw breath to defend herself, the air in the room vanished.
Daniel stood up.
The movement was so sudden, so violent, that his heavy mahogany chair tipped backward and crashed against the marble floor with a deafening roar.
In two long strides, Daniel was standing beside Serena’s chair. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't punch the table. He simply leaned down, his face inches from hers, his voice dropping into a register so cold it made the blood freeze in the veins.
“You will never speak to her that way again,” Daniel whispered.
Serena’s composure finally fractured. Beneath the polished veneer of the elite Seoul socialite, pure, unadulterated terror flickered in her eyes. She gripped the armrests of her chair, her breath catching in her throat.
“Daniel... I am your fiancée—”
“You were an arrangement,” Daniel corrected, his voice like grinding ice. “An arrangement negotiated by elders who thought I needed a decoration for my arm. But you just showed me what lives beneath that decoration.”
He straightened up, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.
“Marcus!” Daniel barked toward the double doors of the dining hall.
The heavy doors swung open instantly. Marcus stepped inside, flanked by two armed guards, his face pale and tense.
“Sir?” Marcus said.
“Miss Yoon’s luggage is in the guest suite,” Daniel ordered, not looking back at Serena as she stood up, shaking with humiliated fury. “Escort her to her car. Ensure her security detail takes her directly to O’Hare. Put her on the earliest flight back to Seoul.”
“Daniel, you cannot do this!” Serena screamed, her aristocratic composure completely shattering as she lunged toward him. “My family will destroy your shipping routes! The Yoon syndicate will cut off every financial pipeline you have in East Asia! You will be a king of nothing!”
Daniel turned slowly, his face expressionless.
“Let them try,” Daniel said quietly. “The last people who threatened my empire are buried under three feet of concrete in the South Loop. Do you really want to join them?”
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Marcus stepped forward, placing a firm, inescapable hand on Serena’s elbow. “Right this way, Miss Yoon.”
As the guards escorted a sobbing, incandescently furious Serena out of the dining hall, the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind her, sealing the room in absolute, echoing silence.
