Chapter – 52
Contract Terminated
It felt as though her collar had been seized—Eunhee’s breath caught, hitching painfully.
“W-What do you mean…?”
“Where does a bitch who’s planning to throw away her parents get off talking about parents at all?!”
Youngchun’s words settled on her ears like a bitter frost.
From inside his jumper, Youngchun rummaged around and pulled out a bundle of papers, then immediately flung them onto the floor.
“Doing this kind of crap behind my back, huh?”
Eunhee’s gaze slid past his bloodshot eyes to the document envelope scattered on the floor.
On one crumpled corner of the paper, she saw the words Family Court. At the same time, the corners of Eunhee’s eyes softened and spilled over.
Ah… no… no…
The date for the hearing on the deprivation of Eunji’s parental rights was approaching. Fortunately, because her father Youngchun could not be located, the court had been able to proceed without him.
But now that Youngchun knew about it, everything would inevitably change. If the biological father, facing the loss of his parental rights, raised an objection, it might become impossible to strip him of those rights.
Beeee—. Along with the pain in her head, a ringing filled Eunhee’s ears. All other sounds seemed to be sucked away somewhere, and her vision was instantly swallowed by silence.
Sa-eun-hee.
In the vacuum-like panic, the image of Eunji’s face appeared—calling Eunhee’s name with a bright, innocent smile.
A small, clueless child who hadn’t even celebrated ten birthdays yet.
Eunhee had told herself she wouldn’t give her affection, and believed she had lived that way. The child who clung to her despite her own heart had always unsettled and bothered her.
Looking back, it was because of her younger sister that Eunhee had managed to endure life at all. Borrowing that child’s soft, fragile breathing, she had barely managed to keep living.
Not realizing that, she hadn’t been able to give her side freely. The time she’d lost weighed on Eunhee—regret upon regret.
If she truly didn’t have much breath left in her life, then she wanted to place the final period by protecting that child.
Eunji wouldn’t know it, but this was Eunhee’s sincere apology to the sister who would be left alone in the world.
“Eunji, at least…!”
Eunhee rushed toward Youngchun.
“Please… please let that child go. Let her go, I’m begging you…”
Standing before her heartless father, Eunhee felt utterly powerless.
She wanted, no matter what, to stop the shadow of misfortune called “father” from being passed down to Eunji.
…Father.
Still clutching Youngchun’s arm, Eunhee collapsed to the floor. She drove her knees into the ground without even noticing the ugly tear forming in her sheer stockings. As if praying, she pressed her trembling hands together. From between her lips, broken sobs leaked out.
“I’m sorry, Father. I—I really did wrong… really…”
“Did what…?”
Youngchun looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. His face held a stubborn demand for confirmation.
“…If I say I won’t do it, that’s enough, right…? Isn’t it…?”
“What are you even saying? Say it clearly so I can understand.”
Eunhee slowly lifted her body. Her bloodless hands trembled as they overlapped on top of Youngchun’s.
“I—I won’t get the surgery. I’ll tell them I won’t… Could you please, please pass that along to them…?”
How naive she’d been to think she could step beyond uncertainty, even for a moment. A helplessness like having her limbs cut off weighed heavily on her chest.
“So please, just leave Eunji alone. Let her go now… Father…”
Only then, as if satisfied with the answer, Youngchun brushed his hands off. Like someone finished with a task, he slapped Eunhee’s hands away.
“You should’ve done that from the start.”
“……”
“Do you think I wanted to treat you like this from the beginning? My organs are about to get sold off—what choice do you think I had, huh? This is all for the good of all three of us, isn’t it?”
“……”
“So don’t feel too hurt. If we’re talking about resentment, it goes both ways. Don’t waste your strength on some hopeless surgery. Anyway, you thought it through well.”
Eunhee nodded silently. As she wiped at her stained cheeks, she eventually buried her face in both hands.
Her chest tightened with pain, so intense she couldn’t even feel the lingering headache. Between her fingers, sorrowful sobs poured out without pause.
The car entered a mixed-use residential complex and stopped in front of the underground parking entrance.
It was Eunhee’s first time at Younghoon’s place.
The driver rode the elevator up with her, pressed the top floor button, then handed Eunhee a card key and took a couple of steps back.
Leaving only Eunhee inside, he bowed politely. She reflexively bowed back, and the doors closed.
After a brief moment of fluster, the elevator—now carrying only Eunhee—quickly reached the top floor.
In front of her was the only front door on that level. Carefully, Eunhee held the card key up and twisted the lever.
As the door opened, small pebble-like lights embedded along the ceiling edge flickered on. Relying on the soft glow, Eunhee stepped into the dim interior.
The full-height windows lining the far wall had their blinds drawn open, offering an expansive view. Outside, the city night spread wide like a panoramic painting.
Against that vast backdrop, a home bar occupied the left side of the spacious room, while a sofa sat opposite. On the ceiling above the bar, wine glasses hung upside down from a glass rack, gleaming faintly.
Eunhee walked toward the black sofa across the room. Bent at a right angle, it was exceptionally wide and long. Above the sofa against the wall hung a large framed artwork—something she felt she’d seen before in a magazine.
Taking in the obsessively clean, orderly interior, Eunhee looked down at her own clothes. In her stained state, it felt as though she were dirtying his space, but her fatigue-laden body felt unbearably heavy.
After a moment’s hesitation, she carefully settled onto the end of the sofa.
Thinking of this as a space imbued with Younghoon’s presence eased her tension slightly. Turning onto her side, she curled up and rested her head on a cushion.
Just a little… I want to rest…
She’d only meant to lie down briefly because she felt dizzy.
Her phone vibrated just as her eyelids closed.
Bzz. Bzz.
At the insistent alerts, Eunhee forced her heavy eyelids open.
The white glow of the screen washed over her gaunt face. The sender was Mijeong.
Ms. Sa Eunhee, you’ve worked hard all this time. Today is your last day.
The sudden notice of termination stunned her, freezing her gaze.
The last day. Did that mean tonight would be her last night with him…?
Swallowing hard, Eunhee’s eyes slid to the messages that followed.
By tonight, the contract will be terminated. That means today is the last day of your role as well.
The contract is over, so I’d prefer it if you never appeared in front of that man again.
Eunhee covered her mouth with her hand. A thin sigh slipped through her fingers.
As if by appointment, reality came crashing down all at once—it was hard to believe. Before she could even sink into regret, her phone vibrated again.
How dare you deceive me? How dare you change the contract? Just try showing up in front of Cha Younghoon. I’ll tear that man to pieces.
Eunhee’s face crumpled faintly, a pained sound escaping her. It had only been a matter of time before Mijeong learned what she’d done.
…Just not today. She’d hoped, at least not today.
An overwhelming fatigue washed over her. Even enduring the pain without medication until now had been too much.
No… not him, at least…
…No.
As she whimpered and shifted, Eunhee fell asleep without even realizing it. Soon, her chest rose and fell evenly.
In the shallow sleep, consciousness drifted—somewhere between dream and reality. The sound of a door opening pierced through her hazy awareness.
