Chapter 5
The morning sky over Paris was painted in soft gray, thick clouds hanging low like curtains drawn over the waking city.
Even in its silence, Paris held an elegance the world could never ignore.
The tall, shimmering tower of Jeon Global Industries stood boldly in La Défense—a monument of glass, steel, and silent power.
At precisely 8:00 AM, a sleek black car turned into the private underground entrance. There were no logos, no sounds of urgency. Just the soft hum of efficiency and the presence of someone important.
The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.
A black leather shoe touched the ground.
Then came the man himself.
Sharp. Silent. Impossibly composed.
He wore a dark, tailored suit with a silver wolf-shaped tie clip. His presence was like cold fire—controlled but dangerous. Every step he took was measured, calm, and intimidating. The wind didn’t dare touch him. The guards stiffened instantly, bowing slightly.
Every breath around him felt like a held inhale.
At just twenty-seven, he was one of the youngest and most powerful business figures across Europe and Asia. A self-made empire forged through ruthless discipline, sharp instincts, and sleepless nights. Investors watched him closely. Competitors feared him. Rumors whispered that even seasoned CEOs avoided direct confrontations with him.
Inside the grand lobby, the temperature seemed to drop the moment he entered. The staff lowered their gazes. Interns held their breath. Conversations died.
His silence alone was enough.
"Good morning, CEO Jeon". *Employees greeted respectfully.*
Jungkook gave a small nod, nothing more. His black eyes scanned the room like a hawk.
He walked through the exclusive corridor and stepped into his private elevator. Once the doors closed, he removed his glasses. The sharp cut of his jaw, unreadable expression—he looked almost like a statue carved from stone.
But behind those cold, dark eyes—there was emptiness.
The elevator stopped on the 48th floor. He stepped out and walked towards his office—a sleek, expansive space of black leather, glass, and subtle elegance. It looked less like a cabin and more like a throne room.
He moved to the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Paris spread beneath him.
Quiet. Predictable. Obedient.
Just how he liked things.
The door opened, and in walked the only person who ever met Jungkook’s eyes without flinching.
Jungkook's manager. His oldest friend. The only one who dared tease him.
Park Jimin.
Good morning, CEO Jeon.
Park Jimin.
Your schedule for today.
Jimin said, stepping forward with a tablet in hand.
Park Jimin.
9:00 AM — Tokyo conference call.
10:30 — Mr. Renault’s financial report.
12:00 — Silent board review.
1:30 — Meeting and lunch with the Paris Councilor.
The afternoon is allocated for final secretary interviews.
Jungkook gave a curt nod.
Park Jimin.
I’ll prepare the call and then step out. I’m taking my half-leave today, as mentioned.
Jungkook glanced up briefly.
Jeon Jungkook
Something urgent?❄️
Park Jimin.
Personal. *Jimin said simply.*
Jungkook didn’t ask further.
Jeon Jungkook
Hm. Okay. ❄️
Jimin gave a slight bow and turned to leave but hesitated.
He looked back over his shoulder with a small smirk.
Park Jimin.
Try not to scare this batch of candidates into passing out.
Jungkook raised a brow, almost amused.
Jeon Jungkook
If they can’t handle pressure, they can’t handle the position. ❄️
Jimin chuckled softly, shaking his head.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Alone again, Jungkook stared out at the skyline.
Everything beneath him Bowes to his name.
Jungkook had not always been this man.
There was a time when he laughed without hesitation, played without fear, and dreamed with wide, unshaken hope.
A time when his parents’ voices filled the house with warmth, and his world was simple, full of love.
But the accident had stolen everything.
Their car had crashed on a stormy night, the rain relentless as they returned from a family trip. Jungkook had been only fifteen. His younger brother was just nine.
One second, they were a family—whole and happy.
The next, Jungkook was standing in the cold, trembling, holding his little brother's soot-streaked hand as flames consumed the wreckage of their past.
The relatives arrived within days—not to grieve, but to take. They came with fake concern, masking greed in pitiful smiles.
They fought over the house, the company shares, the inheritance. But when it came to raising two orphaned boys, they suddenly became too busy, too burdened, too unwilling.
Only one man stepped forward.
His father’s closest friend—Mr Min. A powerful businessman with a strong heart.
He stood against the vultures, hired the best legal team, and arranged private tutors. He didn’t offer warmth, but he made sure the brothers had what they needed to survive.
But survival wasn’t enough.
Jungkook didn’t want to just endure—he wanted to rise. He wanted power, control, and a future where no one could ever hurt his brother.
He buried his pain deep and poured himself into work.
Days blurred into nights—studying, learning, managing, building.
He taught himself to lead, to fight, to become unshakable.
He raised his brother like a father would—giving him food, love, shelter, and safety—everything their parents would’ve wanted. His brother smiled because Jungkook made sure he could.
But somewhere along the way, Jungkook lost his own.
Somewhere between grief and ambition, something inside him shattered.
And that boy—the one who once giggled during family dinners and danced in the rain—was gone.
He forgot what it felt like to be young. To feel joy without guilt.
He learned to mask pain behind cold eyes and perfectly tailored suits.
His heart sealed itself behind steel walls—untouchable, unreadable, unbreakable.
The old Jungkook—so full of life and laughter—was lost in the fire. And he never found his way back.
Back in his office, Jungkook checked his watch. It was almost time for the Tokyo call. He adjusted his cufflinks, picked up his coffee, and walked toward his desk.
But somewhere deep inside him, a strange tug stirred.
A feeling he couldn’t name.
Meanwhile, above the clouds...
On a long international flight headed for Paris, a soft melody played in the background of the quiet cabin.
Taehyung sat near the window, his head resting back against the seat.
In his arms, little Tae-jun lay asleep, wrapped in a warm blanket, his tiny fingers clutching Taehyung’s shirt.
Taehyung looked down at him with a mix of fear, love, and quiet strength.
They were both tired. Both carrying wounds.
Taehyung sighed deeply. He hadn't slept much. Too many thoughts. Too much weight on his chest.
But looking at Tae-jun reminded him why he was doing this.
Kim Taehyung.
We’re almost there, baby, *he whispered.*
Kim Taehyung.
Paris. A new place. A fresh start. You’ll be safe now. I promise.
The stewardess came by quietly.
"Can I get you anything, sir?"
Taehyung shook his head politely.
Kim Taehyung.
No, thank you.
He glanced out the window. Clouds stretched endlessly, soft and silent.
Two souls flying toward something unknown.
One scarred man still learning how to breathe again.
One heartbroken man who refused to give up.
And one tiny life between them.
Three lives. One destiny.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
Comments
kittty
please update more author 🥺
2025-07-07
1
Love👀❤️
Plzzz update soon……can’t wait to read this…..this is so amazing
2025-07-03
1
in love bts and bl💜❤️
update soon author ☺️
2025-07-03
1