The rain had eased into a soft drizzle by the time Linda arrived home, her body aching with exhaustion, adrenaline finally wearing off. Her soaked clothes clung to her skin, and her fingers trembled from the cold. As she pushed the door open, a rush of warm air and the scent of seasoned stew greeted her.
Inside, Sophia was pacing the living room, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The second she saw Linda, she let out a gasp and rushed forward.
"Linda!" she cried, flinging her arms around her.
Linda barely had time to close the door behind her before Sophia's embrace wrapped her in warmth and worry.
"I thought something bad had happened! I couldn't reach you, and with everything going on—I thought he might've hurt you."
Linda exhaled heavily, too tired to form a full sentence. "I'm fine," she murmured. "Well... mostly."
Sophia pulled back, eyes scanning Linda's face. Her expression darkened when she noticed the forming bruise on her cheek. But before she could say anything, her gaze drifted behind Linda—and froze.
A tall man stood in the doorway, dressed in a drenched, expensive suit. Water dripped from his cuffs, his salt-and-pepper hair matted to his forehead. He looked utterly out of place in the small apartment, shivering faintly, eyes clouded with both exhaustion and unease.
Sophia glanced at Linda in confusion, but Linda offered only a quick nod before stepping inside and gently closing the door.
"There's food, right?" Linda asked, noticing the warm dishes laid out on the table.
"Yes. I prepared something earlier while Jack was napping." Sophia's voice was low, cautious, still trying to make sense of the situation.
Linda turned to the man. "Come in. You need to change before you catch pneumonia."
She disappeared briefly into her room and returned holding a dry set of clothes: a pair of casual slacks and a dark grey T-shirt. She handed them over.
"My dad left these behind the last time he visited. They should fit you—they're about your size."
The man accepted the clothes with a grateful nod.
"You can change in the bathroom. It's the first door on the left."
He offered a polite smile and disappeared down the hallway. Sophia watched him go, then turned sharply to Linda.
"Who is he?" she whispered.
"I don't know. Not yet," Linda replied. "But I saved his life today."
Sophia blinked. "What?!"
Linda sighed. "It's a long story. Let's just feed him first."
The man returned a few minutes later, dressed in the dry clothes, looking more human now, though the lines of fatigue were still etched into his face. He sat down quietly at the table.
Sophia, still uncertain, walked over and placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of him. "Here," she said. "This will help with the cold."
"Thank you," he replied, wrapping his hands around the mug. "That's very kind of you."
Linda watched him for a moment, then disappeared briefly to the bathroom. When she returned, freshly showered and her hair damp from the steam, the man was no longer eating. Instead, he stood silently before a photo hung on the wall. It was a framed picture—Linda and her parents and her siblings, taken during thier visit. All three were smiling under a golden sky, standing in a wide field in the park they had visited.
She cleared her throat softly.
The man turned. "Oh. You've had your shower."
Linda nodded, stepping further into the room. "Where's Sophia?"
"She went to bed," he said. "Said she was feeling sleepy."
He pointed to the corner, where baby Jack lay in a small crib, bundled in light blankets. "I just noticed something," he said. "He's breathing loudly. I mean, the baby. And that is a sign of an uncomfortable sleeping position."
Before Linda could respond, he walked quietly over to the crib, leaned down, and gently adjusted the baby's position. He lifted Jack's arm slightly and turned his head just a bit.
Almost instantly, Jack's breathing softened into a peaceful rhythm, his tiny chest rising and falling evenly.
Linda stared in amazement.
How could a man—middle-aged, clearly someone who had spent his life in boardrooms or briefcases—know exactly what was wrong with a child's sleeping position?
Most men these days barely noticed their own kids, let alone someone else's. And this man—he could probably be her father's age—had spotted something she hadn't.
"You have a kid?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Not a kid. A son. He'll be twenty soon."
"Oh..." Linda said softly.
"His mother died when he was very young," he added, his voice low. "I couldn't trust anyone else to raise him. Not entirely. So I stayed involved. Even when I couldn't always be there, I hired the best nannies, the best tutors... but I still tried to be present, somehow."
His tone shifted slightly—reluctant, almost bitter.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Linda said, gently. "I hope I didn't push you into talking about something painful."
"No. It's alright," he said with a sigh. "What scares me now... is his character."
He looked away, frustration building in his eyes. "He's so irresponsible. Always out partying, clubbing. Spending money he didn't earn, acting like nothing matters. Sometimes I wonder if I failed him after all."
Linda sat down slowly beside him. She studied his face before speaking.
"Maybe... maybe you didn't fail him," she said softly. "Maybe he's still finding himself. People don't grow at the same pace. Some kids stumble before they stand."
The man glanced at her, thoughtful. Her words carried weight.
Linda smiled faintly, then shifted the conversation. "Now that we've settled in... I think it's time you told me who you are. Who were those men after you? What kind of business are you involved in that gets you targeted like that—in broad daylight?"
The man tensed for a moment.
He couldn't tell her the truth—not now. If she knew he was actually Mr. Adam—the Mr. Adam—the man behind the Adam's Empire, Korea's largest and most powerful conglomerate, it might change everything. She might treat him differently. She might no longer trust him, or worse—she might find herself in greater danger.
He didn't know who Linda truly was yet. He couldn't risk exposing her—or himself.
"I'm Fang Leng," he said finally, his tone calm but carefully rehearsed. "I work in a business company. I'm the CEO's personal secretary. My boss had two meetings at once today_at the same time. So he asked me to attend one on his behalf. He's a powerful man. Enemies everywhere. I'm sure those people thought I was him."
Linda squinted, skeptical. "But… the driver? Shouldn't he have known you weren't the CEO?"
He hesitated, just a beat too long.
"That was a new driver," he answered. "He started just that evening."
Linda stared at him for a second longer, then slowly nodded. "Alright. I get it."
She stood. "You can sleep here tonight. Have breakfast with us in the morning. By the way, I'm Linda. And yes—I'm a Black Lady living in Seoul."
Fang Leng—Mr. Adam—smiled. "It's a pleasure, Linda. Truly. You saved my life today."
He paused. "Where did you learn your skills? You were… incredible."
Linda's lips curved slightly. "Well, skills like mine aren't exactly learned. They're born. But I was trained—especially with guns. That's a long story for another day."
"I see," he said, clearly impressed. "Thank you, Linda. I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't have to," she replied softly. "Just rest. I hope you'll be comfortable tonight."
"I will," he said with sincerity. "Good night."
Linda smiled and headed to her room. Inside, she found Sophia curled up on one side of the bed, already fast asleep. Her face was peaceful now, the stress of the evening finally fading.
Linda gently pulled the blanket over her, then lay down on the other side of the bed.
Her thoughts swirled.
Who was this man, really?
Why did she feel like there was more to him than he was letting on?
But soon, the weight of the night pulled her under, and she surrendered to sleep.