Chapter 20
Here's Chapter 20: The Music Box (approx. 1000 words):
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Chapter 20: The Music Box
The night air felt colder than usual. Hena sat by the window of her small apartment, her phone pressed to her ear, her voice low and trembling.
"I just don't understand her," Hena whispered. "Claire, she looked at me like I was… nothing. Like I was a threat."
Claire's voice came softly from the other end, comforting and firm. "She's probably scared. Maybe it's not just about you showing up—maybe it's Damian."
"Damian?" Hena asked.
Claire sighed. "Think about it. She's engaged to him. But he's spending time with you, helping you dig up secrets her family clearly buried. That would make anyone defensive."
There was a pause. Hena's heart sank a little. "Then maybe I should tell him to stay away. None of this would've happened if he hadn't stepped in."
"Maybe," Claire said carefully. "But only do it if you feel it's right. Don't shut people out just to protect someone who isn't willing to protect you."
"I just want peace."
"Then start by choosing yourself first."
The call ended, leaving Hena in the silence of her thoughts.
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The next morning, she met Damian at a quiet café tucked away behind the gallery. He smiled when he saw her, but the expression faded when he noticed her troubled eyes.
"I think you should stop helping me," Hena said abruptly, not even waiting for the drinks to arrive. "You're engaged to my sister. Because of you… I'm now the problem in her life."
Damian blinked. "Hena—"
"She thinks I'm here to take everything from her. Her name. Her place. You."
Damian leaned forward. "Hara is the one spinning lies. Not you. Don't take blame for her cruelty."
"She's not cruel!" Hena said, voice rising. "She's… lost. Hurt. I know she has a good side. Maybe I'm the only one who sees it, but I have to believe it's there."
Damian's gaze softened, but there was something intense behind his eyes. He reached across the table, his hand almost brushing hers.
"Hena," he said quietly. "You're kind. Too kind. Even now, you're protecting her when she's done nothing but attack you. But I need you to know something."
She looked up, eyes wide.
"I like you," he said, voice low and sincere. "Not Hara. I never loved her. I liked the idea of her. But you… you feel real."
Hena stared at him, stunned. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Her heart raced.
Unbeknownst to them, a figure hidden in the shadows across the street slowly lowered a phone, a small red recording light blinking off. A quiet smirk played on their lips.
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That evening, Hara sat in her room, scrolling through her phone aimlessly. Then it buzzed.
Unknown Number.
Attached was a video.
She tapped play.
Damian's voice came through clearly. "I like you… not Hara."
Her breath caught. The room spun. Her grip loosened, and the phone clattered to the floor.
"No…" she whispered, tears welling up. "Not again…"
Images of Jae-woon's betrayal four years ago came rushing back. His cowardice. His disappearance. And now Damian—the one man she thought she still had—was slipping through her fingers.
She stood, fists clenched, and in a sudden fit of rage, grabbed her phone and hurled it against the wall.
It shattered.
Sora knocked frantically at her door, but Hara didn't answer. She curled onto her bed, sobbing. "Why does everyone always leave me for her?"
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Elsewhere, Hena walked slowly through the grand Seo estate storage house. She had come to retrieve a forgotten file for one of her temporary jobs. But something pulled her deeper inside.
Past dusty furniture, broken mirrors, and faded boxes of forgotten heirlooms… she found a wooden chest tucked behind a shelf. She lifted the lid, dust swirling into the air, revealing an old velvet-lined music box.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
A soft lullaby began to play, slow and delicate, like a whisper from another lifetime.
Her breath caught.
She knew that melody.
She had dreamed of it—again and again—echoing in her sleep like a gentle hum.
Suddenly, a flash of memory surged forward.
Two baby girls… tiny hands reaching for each other… warm arms cradling them both… and that same lullaby playing in the background. A woman's voice, singing softly… a faint scent of lavender…
Tears filled her eyes.
This was real.
This was her home.
She wasn't crazy. She wasn't lost.
She was meant to be here.
Meant to be Hena Seo.
She closed the box carefully, holding it to her chest like a piece of her stolen past finally returned.
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Back in her destroyed room, Hara sat numbly in silence. Her makeup smudged, her chest aching with betrayal.
She stared at the darkened phone screen. Her reflection in the shattered glass looked almost unrecognizable.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "He chose her…"
And for the first time in a long while, the cold fury in her heart gave way to something deeper—something much more dangerous.
A need to win, A need to fight for what belongs to her.