C2 - Soul-ed MATE

Chapter Two

There used to be gardeners working outside and the part-time chef in the kitchen. Maids working under the direction of the housekeeper.

Ten thousand square feet of French architectural splendour doesn’t tend itself. When the scandal hit, things got even louder.

The phone rang constantly with Dad’s lawyers and business partners. The long street leading up to the cobblestone driveway became a gauntlet, teeming with reporters.

There was even a protest once, with posters that read ‘Clean Up Corruption’ and ‘Get Out of Daegu’.

Once-rounded bushes have grown wild, casting jagged shadows on empty pavement. No one greets me as I walk through the front door.

I follow the faint hum of machinery down the hallway and into my father’s bedroom, where a hospital bed has replaced the crackled leather chairs in front of the fireplace.

Rosé looks up from her book with worry. “How was it?”

“Oh, it was fine.” I told her I had a meeting with some businesspeople. She doesn’t know the specifics, but she knows we’re desperate for money. The empty rooms where oriental rugs and antique furniture used to sit are proof enough.

I’ve sold everything, scraping every last penny from my late mother’s loving decorating.

Only my father’s bedroom remains untouched—except for the IV drip and health monitors that help keep him alive.

I touch my father’s hand, the skin papery.

“Did he wake up?”

She glances at my father’s resting face, her expression sad. “He had a few minutes of awareness soon after you left, but the drugs put him to sleep again.”

Sadness is better than wariness, and definitely better than hatred, the way most of his former staff looked at him during those dark days. He had given them each a small severance package, which was nullified by the court once reparations were ordered.

Millions of dollars of reparations depleted every one of his accounts. And then he’d been attacked, beaten nearly to death.

I know on some level he deserved those things. The censure, the debt.

Maybe even the beating, by some morality standards. But it’s hard to believe that when I see him struggling to breathe. I dig through my pockets for the bills tucked inside.

Rosé puts her hand over mine. “No, Young Park. It’s not necessary.”

It’s easier to force a smile now that I’ve had practice.

“It is necessary. And it’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

She shakes her head, dark eyes mournful. “I’m not blind.”

A pointed glance at my body.

“I see how skinny you’ve gotten.”

I cast a worried look at my father, but he’s still asleep. “Please.”

“No, I can’t take your money.” She hesitates. “But I can’t watch your father either.”

I open my mouth, but my pleas catch in my throat. How can I ask her to come back? She’s the only one of our former staff to come at all. And she’s right that I don’t have the money to keep paying her.

It’s not her fault I’m running out of options.

“Okay,” I say, my voice breaking.

“Your mother—” She makes a soft sound. “She would have been heartbroken to see this.”

I know that, and it’s the only solace I have in her death. She never had to see her Alpha’s fall from grace. She never had to see her little mimi turned into a whore.

“I miss her.”

Rosé’s gaze darts to my father, almost furtive.

“She was loyal,” she whispers. “Like you.”

I nod because it isn’t a secret. Everyone knew she was a doting wife and mother. A true society maven, friends with everybody and the picture of grace.

I always dreamed of being like her one day—who died for her soulmate loving him throughout her whole life, but I know that with the visit I made earlier, my life will be irrevocably changed.

I wanted to be the epitome of elegance and regalia like my mother Minali carried with her. A brilliant aura around her—everyone was attracted to her personality.

“Be careful,” Rosé finally adds with a pat to my hand. She takes one final glance at my father. “Mr. Jo is waiting in the back parlour.”

My heart thuds. Uncle Yunhyuk has been my father’s friend and financial advisor for years. They played golf and the stock market.

But even as close as he was, he never would have been invited to the back parlour. That was only for family, which is why the lumpy, comfortable couch wasn’t worth anything. I paste on an expression of nonchalance. “I’ll speak to him when I’m done here.”

Without another word, Rosé shows herself out.

Steady beeps fill the space she left behind, clinical reminders of my father’s tenuous hold on life.

Swallowing hard, I take his hand. This hand rocked me to sleep and tossed a softball. Now it seems cold and frail. I can feel every vein beneath the paper skin. Tears rise up, but I fight them back.

“Oh, Dad.” I really need my biggest supporter right now.

I need someone to tell me everything will be all right.

There’s no one left to do that.

The only thing that will help now is a phone call from one of the city’s crime lords.

A rich man with money enough to buy someone so young for the night.

His eyelids are shot through with blue-green veins.

They open slowly, revealing the flat gaze he’s had ever since the conviction.

“Jimin-ah?”

“I’m here. Do you need anything? Are you hungry?” He closes his eyes again.

“I’m tired.”

He’s asleep most of the time. “I know, Dad.”

“You’re a good boy,” he says faintly, his eyelids fluttering.

My throat feels thick. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“My little mimi.” His voice fades to nothing by the end, but I know what he said.

He used to call me that when I was little, boundless as a toddler can be. He taught me chess to help me focus. And then he found time to play a game with me every week, no matter what. He worked nights and weekends, but he always made time to sit across the chessboard from me.

In the beeping quiet that follows, I know he’s asleep again.

I only get a few minutes with him a day. The rest of the time the medicine keeps him under, but without it he’s in intense pain. He has always been a man of vitality, of action.

Multiple broken bones and a harrowing night in the dark alley where they left him aged him twenty years. This is all he has left—the security of this room and the pain medicine.

I can’t take those away.

“Everything will be okay,” I say out loud because I have to believe that. I have to believe that I’m doing this for a reason. Have to believe that it will be enough.

There’s no one left to save us except me.

!~~~!

I have three memories of my mother, and one of them takes place in the back parlour. She was a beautiful debutante, the perfect society wife. Only in the privacy of the back parlour did she ever sit on the floor to play Disneyland with me.

My footsteps echo in the hallway, made empty by my desperate need for money. Darkened rectangles decorate the wooden floor, patches where a rug or piece of furniture sat for a decade or two.

Between the sale of our furniture and cashing in my college fund, I’ve kept us afloat for another month, but that will run out soon.

The nurse who visits my father once a day, the doctor who replenishes his supply of pain medication. They all want money, both for their expertise and to keep their stories out of the city’s gossip chain.

What’s left of my father’s dignity is worth that much. The door to the back parlour is open.

Jo Yunhyuk sits on the lumpy couch, his vest impeccable, one oxford-clad foot slung over his leg. He has a full head of silver hair, a beard and moustache, and striking blue eyes.

He reminds me of those old school gentlemen, minus the accent. Part of me hates that he’s encroached on the only thing I have left of my father. The practical part of me knows there aren’t any other sofas in the house.

No furniture.

There’s nothing left.

Panic rises in my chest.

He’s here to help you, I remind myself.

“Uncle Yunhyuk,” I manage. “It’s so good to see you.”

He stands, his expression sombre. “My dear boy. What a trying time this must be for you.”

For reasons I can’t explain, my lower lip trembles. His sympathy is harder to bear than the challenge in Min Yoongi’s chiselled face. I can’t afford to feel sorry for myself.

I can’t afford to break down, not when I don’t know if I’d be able to put myself back together again.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Oh! but I do, especially with your father out of commission. How is his health?”

His pallid skin, his weakened movements. The excruciating pain I can see in his eyes between doses.

“He’s improving every day. I’m just so grateful that he’s healing.”

“Good, good.” He gestures to the sofa—my mother’s sofa. “Come sit down with me. I must speak with you.”

The front parlour was carefully constructed to provide decorum, to allow space. I could have sat in the beautiful Scottish armchairs with a small oak table between us. I could have maintained the smile on my face. But the back parlour is made for comfort.

For intimacy.

And when I sit down, the cushions tilt sideways, sliding me closer to his body. He doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand lands on my knee with a squeeze.

Every muscle freezes as I stare at the faint age spots on his skin, unable to comprehend what’s happening, unwilling to think about why he’s touching me like this.

“My dear, we need to discuss your future. We need to discuss the house.”

“The house—” My voice cracks, and I take a deep breath.

This isn’t my house. It isn’t even my father’s. He built it for my mother. He gave it to her outright—a gift. And when she died it passed to me in trust.

“You said we’d be able to keep the house.”

“Yes, it’s protected by the trust. But maintenance on an estate like this is, I’m sorry to say, a luxury you can no longer afford.” He glances out the window with an expression of disapproval.

The bushes had once been perfectly rounded. Green puffs of cotton balls, I once thought. Now they’ve grown unruly, jagged branches covering the window.

The house isn’t luxury. It’s the only thing I have left.

I can’t lose the house.

It would break my father to find out how far we’ve fallen. It would break me.

“I had hoped to keep Dad here. It’s important.”

Yunhyuk’s face turns faintly pitying. “Unfortunately, the real estate taxes are due soon. We haven’t been paying into escrow for years, as the total would be easily covered by your family’s accounts. But with the recent restitution payments…”

My mouth turns metallic with fear. “How much are the taxes?”

He reaches down to his leather folio and pulls out a folded paper. I take it with trembling hands, shaking hard enough to blur the numbers. When they finally come into focus, my breath expels completely. “Oh God.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It was laudable to try and keep your father here, but I’m afraid it’s quite impossible. I’ve already been in touch with a realtor and explained the need for a fast sale.”

He goes on about the details of selling the house, but all I can hear are my father’s faint words.

You’re my little mochi. For so many years he took care of me.

It’s my turn to protect him.

“Wait,” I say.

Yunhyuk’s expression softens, the lines of his face relaxing. “I know how hard this must be for you. That’s why I wanted to speak to you about a proposition.”

“Something to save the house?”

Something to save my father.

“I’m afraid not,” he says gently. “But you know that I care for you deeply. I have the utmost respect for you.”

I blink, uncertain where he’s going with this.

“Of course, Uncle Yunhyuk. You’ve always been here for us. And you’ve been a huge help to me with the finances during this time.”

He gives me a genial smile. “Good, good. And I hope you’ll be amenable to what I’m about to propose.”

I hold my breath. For some reason I feel wary. As much as Uncle Yunhyuk visited from time to time, even though he was always kind to me, something about him made me uncomfortable.

His hand takes mine, pulling it into his lap. My stomach tightens in shock and silent denial.

“I have had the pleasure of watching you grow into this beautiful and graceful omega. Your elegance and strength during your father’s trial have been admirable. It would be my great honour to make you mine.”

The air seems to whoosh from the room, my lungs hard and hollow. “What?”

“I realize that I may not have been your first choice—”

“Uncle Yunhyuk. You’re like family to me.”

And he’s as old as my father. They went to school together. How can he even ask me this?

“We’ll still be family, Jimin. I’ll take good care of you.”

My blood runs cold as I consider the implications. Uncle Yunhyuk is definitely rich in his own right, through inheritance and from his work as a financial advisor to the city’s wealthy.

The thought of accepting his proposal makes my stomach clench, but I can’t say no.

“You would keep the house?” I ask cautiously, my voice tight.

He stands and crosses to the mantle, where family pictures crowd together. My mother’s smiling face features prominently, my only method to remember her.

He picks up a frame and touches the glass, almost a caress.

“Do you know I met your mother first? Before Sejin had seen her.”

I shiver. “My father said it was love at first sight.”

“Yes,” he says, with a dark note that I’ve never heard before. “She was a beautiful flower, and he picked her as soon as he saw her. He built this house as a shrine to her.”

My breath catches. This is why he could never countenance moving, even with all the extra space. This house isn’t only for my father. It’s a living memorial to my mother.

“So you’ll help me save it?” I ask almost desperately.

He looks at me sharply. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” As if realizing the harshness of his tone, he gives me a smile. “And it would be wasteful. I have a very large home that would be quite lovely for you.”

“But my father…”

“He’s barely conscious,” Yunhyuk says, his tone curt. “We’ll make him quite comfortable in a room in our house. And we’ll be able to hire a full- time nurse to care for him.”

Part of me wants to demand to know why he won’t pay for the nurse already, considering how destitute we are.

Isn’t he best friends with my father?

Except his expression doesn’t look kind right now. He seems almost bitter.

Jealous?

Has he held on to resentment all these years for my mother choosing my dad?

And how creepy would it be to marry Uncle Yunhyuk?

It would have been bad already—the huge age difference, the fact that he watched me grow up. But knowing I’m a replacement to my mother?

All my life I heard from my father that I remind him of Minali, my mother. I have the same eyes, same nose, same puckered lips of her.

I was just a younger version of her in a male body.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

He returns to the couch, standing beside me, looking down. He runs a finger across my cheek, making goose bumps rise across my skin.

“You’ve always been a smart Jimin. Surely you must see there’s no other choice.”

Gazing up at him, Yoongi’s golden eyes flash in my mind.

Isn’t this the safer choice?

I’ve known Uncle Yunhyuk my entire life. I would be able to live comfortably, in the style I am accustomed to. My father’s medical bills would be taken care of. Some small, broken part of me wants to give myself over to this, to let someone else fix everything.

I’ve had to be strong for so long, watching my life crumble before me. The thought of lying beneath Uncle Yunhyuk’s body repulses me, but some stranger at an auction probably wouldn’t be better.

‘Helen.’ He whispers, his thumb brushes across my lips, and everything in me recoils. I hold myself very still, even my breath bated. This is the test, I realize. To see whether I can stand his touch.

“Exactly like her,” he murmurs, and I know he means my mother. “At the same age I met her.”

A shudder rushes through me.

“No,” I whisper.

It’s too much knowing he’s imagining my mother. It’s too much thinking of him like family.

“Jimin, I’m trying to help you.”

“I have another plan,” I say with that falling sensation again.

I’m tumbling, turning. Uncle Yunhyuk is my only hope of ground, but somehow I’ve decided to jump.

“What plan?”

“I’m going to get a loan from Kim Taehyung.”

Yunhyuk pulls back in surprise. “The Kim Taehyung?”

“He’s a businessman. He’s going to lend me enough for the real estate taxes. And the nurse. I’ll be able to keep the house.”

I’m lying out of desperation right now, pretending it will be a loan instead of an auction, praying it will be enough money.

“That much money,” Yunhyuk says slowly. “Are you sure he doesn’t want something…unsavory from you?”

‘That’s what you want from me.’ My omega says destitute.

I press my lips together, praying for the strength to go through with it. I know the mercy that Uncle Yunhyuk is offering me. Not only would he support me, but his standing in the community might be enough to save me in the eyes of society.

But I would be married to him for the rest of my life. Considering he’s thirty years older than me, more likely the rest of his life.

It’s still a long time.

‘Far longer than a month.’ My wolf adds.

Slaving myself to a stranger would be horrifying, but it would only last for a month. I could survive that. And maybe, with time and with luck, I would almost forget what had happened. Uncle Yunhyuk would save me, but the cost would be years.

“It’s already agreed,” I lie. “I’m going to return tomorrow to finalize the contract.”

“I must advise against this,” he says. “The interest rates are no doubt outrageous, if not illegal. And how will you raise the funds to make payments?”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Yunhyuk. I have it all worked out.”

Because I won’t be making payments, at least not with money. I’ll be using my body to pay for those taxes, to pay for the nurse. Even as I make the decision, I’m torn with regret and fear. Should I have said yes to Uncle Yunhyuk?

I can’t imagine spreading my legs for him. Then again, I can’t imagine spreading my legs for a stranger either.

!~~~~!

That night I dream of a fire licking at my skin, and when I wake, I’m sweating in my sheets. My mattress is on the floor, the only thing remaining in the room after my Victorian bedroom set was sold through an antiques dealer.

I don’t want to dream anymore, so I get up and roam the halls. The moonlight slices through the heavy branches, drawing geometric patterns on the empty wooden floors.

I head downstairs and pour a glass of water. It slides down my throat, cool and cantering. Whatever happens in that auction, I’ll get through it. Only a month and then it will be over.

I’m making the right choice, aren’t I? A shadow through the window catches my eye, and my blood turns cold.

!~~~~!!!!~~~~!