The whiskey glass perched on the edge of the snooker table glistened under the dim light, condensation pooling on the surface. Min-jun lined up his next shot, his jaw clenched as his phone pressed hard against his ear. His tone was razor-sharp, laced with venom as he addressed Taejoon on the other end.

“Yah, Taejoon-ah, you useless son of a bitch! You think you can fuck up my client meeting and just walk away? Do you have any idea how much that contract was worth?” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl, his knuckles white as he gripped the cue stick. “I swear to God, I’ll dock your salary so low even your mistress will leave your sorry ass.”

The crack of the cue ball hitting its target echoed through the room, sending colored balls neatly into the pockets. Min-jun’s movements were as smooth and calculated as his fury was raw. “Don’t give me your lame excuses, Taejoon,” he snarled. “Do you want me to shove this cue stick so far up your ass you’ll be coughing chalk dust? Because I’ll fucking do it.”

Min-jun’s free hand reached behind his back, retrieving the sleek black pistol tucked into his waistband. He aimed it at the framed photo of him and Taejoon on the wall, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. “Maybe I should put a bullet in your smiling face, huh? PANG! Just like that. Don’t forget, I own your sorry life. Your passport, your wife, your kids...hell, even your cheap little side chick. One snap of my fingers, and you’re begging for change under a bridge.”

Slamming the phone down on the table, Min-jun exhaled sharply, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. His anger simmered, bubbling into a dangerous cocktail of rage and humiliation as his thoughts turned to her. That bitch. That goddamn sugar mummy wannabe. She’d not only stolen his clients but had the audacity to outshine him in his own empire.

“I’ll bury her alive,” he muttered, his voice low and venomous, fingers trembling slightly as he poured himself another whiskey. He downed it in one go, letting the burn fuel his fury.

A soft brush of silk against his arm snapped him out of his thoughts. A woman leaned against the snooker table, her back to him, her figure wrapped in a dangerously revealing outfit. The scent of her perfume..a heady, expensive aroma wafted toward him, and Min-jun’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, stepping closer and letting his bare chest graze her back. He’d left his jacket undone, exposing his chiseled abs. His hand ghosted over her waist, tugging gently to turn her around. “You smell like money, sweetheart. Let me guess, wearing Amouage? Or something custom? Either way, it’s working.”

The moment she turned, his smirk faltered. His eyes narrowed as they locked onto her face, his stomach tightening with both rage and something he refused to acknowledge.

“You.” His voice dripped with disdain as his gaze swept over her. “What the fuck are you doing here? Lost your damn mind coming to my place?” His eyes darkened as they roamed her body, lingering pointedly on her chest.

“Hah! Look at you. Not just your business that’s grown, huh? What’d you do? Get those boobs done too? Gotta say, money well spent, bitch. But tell me, did you use the cash you stole from my clients, or did you let some poor surgeon grope you for a discount?” His laughter was sharp, bitter, but his mind flickered with unwanted thoughts. Goddamn, she looks...delicious

He quickly shook the thought away, leaning back against the table as his smirk returned, cold and calculated. “So, what’s it gonna be? You here to beg for forgiveness, or just to flaunt your fake-ass success? Either way, I’m not impressed.”