Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Choice
(Joon-Ho’s POV)
The ballroom was heavy with glitter and power. Chandeliers spilled golden light across polished marble, and every guest wore the weight of old money in their clothes, their smiles, their eyes. Tonight was supposed to mark his official entrance into the Daehan legacy—the night the world would finally know him as the heir.
But Joon-Ho felt none of the pride his father expected. Only the suffocating press of chains disguised as silk ties and tailored suits.
He stood near the edge of the room, bowing politely as people whispered about him. He could hear his father’s voice somewhere behind him, confident and sharp, speaking about the company’s future. His mother smiled elegantly, playing her role as though their family wasn’t fractured by unspoken battles.
And in the crowd—he saw her.
Amara.
His breath caught.
She stood near the entrance, wearing a simple dress that outshone every jewel in the room. Her beauty wasn’t in glitter or glamour—it was in the strength in her eyes, the curve of her shoulders, the quiet storm she carried with her. She looked both vulnerable and unbreakable all at once.
For a moment, Joon-Ho couldn’t move. He thought she wouldn’t come—that she had truly left him behind. But now, seeing her here, something inside him snapped into place.
This was it. His moment.
His father’s voice cut through the music: “Ladies and gentlemen, my son—Joon-Ho—will now be introduced as the future of Daehan Group.”
Applause rose like a wave, but Joon-Ho barely heard it. His eyes never left Amara.
He stepped forward, every muscle in his body trembling with the weight of the choice. His father’s hand rested firmly on his shoulder, grounding him, warning him.
“This is the path you were born to walk,” his father murmured under the applause.
But Joon-Ho finally understood. He wasn’t born to walk anyone else’s path.
He pulled away from his father’s hand. The room fell silent at the gesture, the polite applause faltering into uneasy whispers.
And then, without hesitation, Joon-Ho crossed the ballroom. Each step was louder than the last, not in sound but in meaning. The crowd parted, curious, stunned, scandalized.
He stopped in front of Amara, who looked at him with wide eyes, torn between fear and disbelief.
“Amara,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “I’ve been a coward. I let my family’s name silence me. I let fear of losing everything keep me from the one thing that matters most.”
His father’s sharp voice rang out across the hall: “Joon-Ho!”
But Joon-Ho ignored him.
He reached for Amara’s hand. Her fingers trembled against his, but she didn’t pull away.
“I don’t care about the inheritance. I don’t care about the company. None of it means anything without you,” he said, his eyes locked on hers.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. His father’s face darkened, his mother’s mask finally cracked.
And in that moment, Joon-Ho knew there was no turning back.
He bent slightly, his forehead brushing hers as he whispered, just for her:
“I choose you, Amara.
