**shattered love**

Author's POV

Kath's eyes trailed over the glowing sign—'Five Star Kim Hung Ji Restaurant'—and a small smile crept onto her lips. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, bracing against the nipping cold, before stepping inside.

The moment she entered, warmth enveloped her, a stark contrast to the winter chill outside. The restaurant bustled with energy, the soft hum of conversations blending with the clinking of glasses and cutlery. She inhaled deeply, her nerves settling slightly as she scanned the room.

Her gaze landed on a familiar pair of eyes—charming, green, and warm in a way that made her chest tighten. Yang.

But just as quickly, the atmosphere around her shifted. Whispers floated through the air, hushed yet piercing. Eyes trailed her every move—some filled with open contempt, others with concealed judgment.

She wasn't new to this.

It was no secret, splashed across every gossip page, that she was the woman engaged to Korea's most sought-after millionaire. Some people admired her, enchanted by the quiet elegance she exuded. Others? They despised her, ridiculing her for being a single mother, whispering cruel words about her child's origins.

The once-ruthless Yang, feared and revered in equal measure, had changed after meeting her. The world had taken notice, and they weren't happy about it.

Kath swallowed, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the stroller, where Asher slept soundly. She forced her chin up, ignoring the whispers, and made her way to the table.

Across from her, Yang sat by the window, his broad shoulders tense, his hands clenched into fists on the table. His expression was unreadable, but Kath knew him well enough to sense something was wrong.

Her lips curled into a teasing smile, an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "Guess you didn't get enough of us and already started missing us, huh?"

She expected a smirk, a sarcastic quip—something, anything—but instead, his head remained lowered, his eyes fixed on the polished wood of the table.

A knot tightened in her stomach.

"Yang," she called softly, reaching across the table for his hand.

He flinched.

Her breath hitched as he abruptly pulled away, his chair scraping against the floor as he stood. Every eye in the café turned toward them, and a sick feeling of dread crawled up her spine.

"Let's end this, Kath."

His voice was sharp, clipped, devoid of the warmth she had always known. The world around her seemed to blur as she stared at him, no comprehending.

"What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Yang's jaw tightened. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be with a woman who has a child. I'm too young to be a stepfather."

Kath's world tilted on its axis. The café, the murmurs, the judgmental stares—they all faded as a sharp, searing pain lodged itself in her chest.

"I don't want you, Kath. I've found someone else."

She stood so abruptly her chair almost toppled over. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs. "Who forced you to say this? Tell me you're joking, Yang. Tell me—"

His gaze, cold and empty, met hers.

"I told you—I've found someone else." His voice was steady, as if he wasn't tearing her heart apart with every word. "We're getting married next week."

Her knees nearly gave out.

No. This wasn't happening.

Desperation clawed at her throat as she reached for him, fingers trembling. "You told me you loved me. You promised—"

Yang's hand shot out, yanking a girl—blonde, petite, a porcelain doll of perfection—toward him. The girl looked startled, uncertain, but said nothing.

"She's my fiancée." The words were final, sharp as daggers.

Kath felt something inside her shatter.

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. A cruel laughter rippled through the crowd.

"She really thought he'd adopt that child?"

"A gold digger. She was only after his money."

"She should've known he'd never marry someone like her."

Kath turned slowly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. Their faces were twisted in satisfaction, as though they had been waiting for this very moment.

Her hands clenched at her sides.

With quiet dignity, she turned back to Yang, her voice trembling yet resolute. "Thank you for showing me my worth." Her gaze flickered to the woman clinging to his side. "I hope she makes you as happy as you once claimed I did."

Yang's expression faltered for a fraction of a second. Just a moment. But she caught it.

And that was enough.

Summoning the last of her strength, she spun on her heels and walked away, gripping the stroller tightly. Her chest burned, her throat ached, but she refused to break—not here, not in front of them.

But then—

"Kath."

Her steps faltered.

Yang's voice was softer this time, almost hesitant.

She turned slightly, hope flickering like a dying ember. But then she saw the girl—the way Yang's arm tightened around her waist, the way he refused to meet her eyes.

That ember died.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he murmured.

Kath inhaled sharply. "And yet, you did."

His fingers twitched, as though he wanted to reach for her. But he didn't.

Her heart ached at the distance between them, the finality of it all.

"You're a coward," she whispered.

Then she turned and walked away.

From the shadows, a pair of dark eyes watched her every move. A man, dressed in black, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, a slow smirk curling on his lips.

Dragons leaned against the wall, amusement flickering in his gaze. His fingers brushed against the gun tucked at his waist, though he had no need for it.

Yang had done exactly what was required of him.

Two birds. One stone.

But his gaze shifted back to Kath—her trembling shoulders, the way she held herself together even as she was falling apart.

Fascinating.

A strange, unbidden urge rose within him. The desire to reach out, to pull her into his arms, to—

He scoffed, shaking his head.

No.

First things first.

Get her to marry him.

His smirk deepened as he straightened, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the woman who had just lost everything.

And she had no idea she was about to step into something far more dangerous.