Jason had barely stepped out of the car when another sleek black vehicle pulled up behind him. The unmistakable sharp click of the door opening was followed by a familiar, steady voice.
"You had a good time tracking me," Jason asked without turning.
"Good morning, Young Master Yun," replied Director Han, unbothered by the accusation.
"I think we need a private meeting. Just five minutes of your time."
Jason raised a brow. "As you can see, I'm a bit busy."
"Then I'll make it four minutes," Director Han said with a slight smile, masking the urgency in his eyes.
Jason said nothing, merely nodded, and walked toward the entrance of the bank. Director Han followed close behind.
Inside, an employee spotted Jason and rushed forward, nearly tripping over herself.
"Good morning, Young Master Jason. Good morning, Director Han. How may I assist you today?"
Jason pulled out his platinum card. "I'd like to make a withdrawal. Three million. In cash."
The woman blinked. "Of course. Right away. Would you like a private room prepared?"
Jason nodded. "And make sure no one disturbs us."
He handed her the card, then led Director Han through the side hallway. At the end, a room awaited. Jason opened the door, holding it with a smirk. "After you, Director."
The older man stepped in and took a seat, his expression already growing tense. Jason sat across from him, crossing one leg over the other.
"I assume this is about the engagement," Jason said, voice flat.
Director Han didn't dance around it. "You called it off. No warning. Alice hasn't said a word to me."
"Because there's nothing to say," Jason said. "It wasn't working. We agreed to part ways."
Director Han's brows knit. "She's young. Caught up in ideals. You know her grandfather arranged the engagement before his passing. She respects his wishes. I can talk to her. She'll come around—"
"No." Jason's tone was final. "It's not happening. There's no benefit in forcing something that's already broken."
Director Han's jaw tightened. "You understand this affects the alliance between our families."
Jason leaned forward, voice calm but pointed. "There's no need to worry. The Han–Yun partnership remains intact. Under my direction."
Director Han froze. "…Your direction?"
Jason gave a slow nod. "Yes. The engagement was the original basis, but with that gone, all negotiations and decisions involving the Han family now go through me."
There was a long pause.
In the past, the alliance between their families had been guarded by a promise—an engagement linking their fates. It meant that any backing or deals could be revoked if the engagement dissolved. But now, Jason had absorbed that control entirely, reframing the relationship under business terms, not family ones.
"Of course," Jason added, lips curling slightly, "this also means the Han family won't be able to call on that engagement as leverage. No more guaranteed support without mutual interest."
Director Han's smile faltered.
He had underestimated this version of Jason. Just days ago, the boy had been trying to win favor, flatter Alice, cling to tradition. Now he was calm, strategic—dangerous.
"I look forward to working with the Han family going forward," Jason said, standing. He walked to the door, then paused. "We'll be discussing your steel expansion deal soon. Make sure your team comes prepared… especially when it comes to the splitting of profits."
He left the room without waiting for a response. At the front desk, his assistant handed him a large black duffel bag and returned his card. Jason gave her a polite nod, then stepped into the sunlight, the bag casually slung over his shoulder.
As he climbed into the backseat, his driver pulled the door shut and started the engine.
"Next stop?" the man asked.
" the Library on the south side of the city."
The driver nodded.
Jason scoffed under his breath.
The original Jason never stood a chance. Alice had idolized her grandfather. And when she learned about that promise—when she met the grandson of his war comrade—it was like fate clicked into place. The rest was inevitable.
That's how the protagonist secured Alice's heart. Not with charm, noir with wealth.
This wasn't about stealing the protagonist's spotlight.
It was about building his own empire in the shadows of it.
And if that meant turning the Han family's security blanket so be it.
Back at the bank, Director Han stepped into his car, his expression unreadable.
His son Antwan sat in the back seat, leaning forward the moment his father entered. "So? Did he agree to renew the engagement?"
"No," Director Han said, rubbing his temple. "It's over."
"What?!" Antwan's face turned red. "Dammit, Alice! She ruined everything!"
"Quiet."
"But Father—"
"I said quiet."
Antwan clenched his jaw, fuming. "We've been bragging to the Chu and Lee families all month about this. You know they were waiting to see if we'd officially tie to the Yuns."
"There's still an alliance," Director Han muttered.
Antwan's brow lifted. "Then why don't you look happy?"
Director Han leaned back, hands folded.
"Because it's no longer based on family. It's under Jason now. Directly."
Antwan paused, then scoffed. "So? He likes us. We're allies."
Jason was no longer the desperate, love-sick boy who fumbled for Alice's attention and groveled before the Han family.
That version of him had vanished overnight.
This new Jason was sharp. Controlled. Detached. The kind of man who could terminate a decades-long arrangement with a calm voice and a polite smile.
Director Han's jaw tightened.
There were no more guarantees now. No engagement. No emotional leverage. Just a young man with absolute authority over their most valuable partnership.
Antwan sat quietly, trying to process it.
In the Han family, there were only three heirs.
Ashley—the oldest daughter—was brilliant, but defiant. She'd distanced herself from the family and refused to reveal who fathered her child. That scandal alone had shaken their reputation for months. And with a child born out of wedlock and no marriage in sight, the family elders had all but written her off.
Then there was Alice.
Sweet, stubborn Alice.
She had never accepted Jason's affection. Not even when the families encouraged it. Not even when it made perfect political sense.
Because to her, love wasn't a game of business.
She revered her grandfather—the man who'd built the Han family from nothing.
Antwan had always believed he was the most viable heir.
He played the part. Looked the part. Knew the city's wealthy kids, the rising entrepreneurs, the ones with influence. He was the one standing on stages, attending the right parties, bragging about the Han family's next big move.
The engagement had been his greatest talking point.
"We're tying into the Yun family—top tier, legacy, elite. We're not just rising. We've arrived."
And now? Now he looked like a fool.
The same people he'd tried to impress would be the first to mock him. The wealth circle was fickle—one fall from grace, and they'd tear into him like wolves.
Antwan's throat tightened.
He wanted to lead the family. But not if it meant inheriting a ship that was already taking on water. Not if their public image cracked just as he stepped up.
Director Han remained silent beside him, lost in his own thoughts.
Antwan stared out the window, the weight of his father's silence pressing harder than any lecture ever could.
For the first time in his life, he wondered if the Han family's great rise might already be behind them.
And if he—Antwan Han—might be the heir to its decline.