* * *

Fourteen years ago, Yeo Woohee had been declared dead due to excessive bleeding from a traffic accident.

There was even a death certificate issued by the hospital.

Since death certificates could be processed by mail, it probably hadn’t occurred to anyone that a child might have submitted it.

The parents likely discovered the truth later, around the time they tried to enroll Yeo Woohee in elementary school.

Preschoolers rarely need official identification.

The discrepancy would have come to light when visiting the local government office for school registration.

With the help of capable lawyers, Chairman Yeo must have quickly annulled the death declaration.

But why had Yeo Jinwoo tried to declare his younger sibling dead?

That kind of act was unthinkable unless driven by madness—or greed.

“Yeo Jinwoo is seriously insane!”

Min Seolwoo muttered what Kang Dohee was already thinking.

While Kang Dohee was furious at what Yeo Woohee had endured, he also seriously considered the possibility: Yeo Jinwoo might truly be insane.

“Could it be he didn’t want his sibling to inherit any company shares, even as an elementary schooler?”

Lee Yeondu’s comment made Min Seolwoo shudder.

“How can anyone feel safe around chaebols?” he murmured.

Kang Dohee worried about how Yeo Woohee was faring in that household.

Was Yeo Jinwoo harming his younger sibling?

Even with someone planted in Chairman Yeo’s house to monitor the situation, it wouldn’t guarantee Yeo Woohee’s safety.

With a heavy heart, Kang Dohee sighed deeply, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“First, find out if Yeo Jinwoo has a history of mental illness. See what kind of treatment he’s received and why. If he’s been treated for violent tendencies, we need to get Woohee out of there immediately.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll dig into Chairman Yeo and Kim Min-jung’s networks to find a connected psychiatrist. If Yeo Jinwoo has sought treatment, he’d never use his own name. The rumors would have spread by now. He must be receiving help discreetly.”

“Start by tracking Yeo Jinwoo’s current location through his phone.”

The sound of frantic typing filled the room as the hackers got to work.

In the sparsely populated region of Gapyeong, where vacation homes were scattered, there existed a psychiatric hospital that no one knew about.

Dr. Yoon had been living there for 14 years, the facility disguised as an ordinary villa without so much as a hospital sign.

Life within this secluded space was monotonous, a repetitive routine unfolding in a place where time seemed frozen.

The only notable change was a nine-year-old child growing into a 23-year-old adult.

Dr. Yoon set aside the affidavit from Chairman Yeo, locking it in a deep desk drawer.

Yeo Jinwoo had returned here in under a year—this time after being caught attempting to assault his younger sibling.

From the chairman’s testimony, it was clear that while concern lingered about whether Jinwoo could properly adapt to society, he had nonetheless demonstrated exceptional skill in his work, earning the trust of the board members.

The sole blemish on this brilliant Alpha’s record was his predilection for incest.

By now, Jinwoo no longer threw tantrums or showed any agitation during his stays here.

He understood that any defiance would only prolong his confinement.

When Jinwoo entered the consultation room, his radiant smile and polished appearance made one doubt he was a psychiatric patient.

He even hummed a cheerful tune, seeming genuinely happy.

“Executive Director, you seem to be in a good mood today,” Dr. Yoon observed.

“Ah, I received a letter from my little brother. Doctor, have a look at this. My Woohee apologized to me,” Jinwoo said, pulling a letter from the pocket of his patient uniform.

However, when Dr. Yoon reached for it, Jinwoo drew it back, denying him the chance to touch it.

Dr. Yoon adjusted his glasses to read the letter from afar.

[To my beloved Jinwoo hyung,

Hyung, hello. It’s me, Woohee. I know I did something wrong that day, and you punished me, but I wasn’t punished properly, so you must have been really angry, right? I was so confused and hurt when you left for America without a word.

Even though I knew you’d never truly harm me, that day felt so different from all the times you disciplined me before. I was so scared.

When Dad yelled at you so loudly, I thought it was my fault that you left for America. I cried, thinking I should have endured a little more.

But Dad told me it was all a misunderstanding. He said you scolded me because you wanted me to grow better and that you didn’t do anything wrong. He also said you went to America for work.

Whenever you used to leave for America, you’d always hug me and say goodbye, giving us enough time to part. But this time, you left without a word. I’m not blaming you, but it’s been weighing on my mind.

If I’d accepted your punishment properly, would you have hugged me and said, ‘Woohee, take care,’ while patting my head?

Anyway, I’m attending my new university now, even though I made you so angry. I’ve even made a new friend there, and I met Kang Dohee again. But you won’t believe it—Dohee completely forgot about me! Can you imagine?

After everything I went through because of him!

But I’ve decided not to resent Dohee. It’s been 14 years, and we were only friends for a week back then.

Oh, and one more thing—on my first day at this university, the professors warned the other students about our family. Even the security staff from home came and scared them. So now, no one dares to mess with me. Honestly, who would dare bully an Alpha like me? So, don’t worry about me.

I’ll end the letter here.

I miss you, hyung. From Woohee.]

Yeo Woohee, who had long been subjected to his older brother’s punishments and control, clearly exhibited severe psychological issues.

Dr. Yoon had heard from the chairman that Woohee had nearly been assaulted, yet the younger brother seemed to consider it a justified punishment and even worried about having disappointed Jinwoo.

Dr. Yoon believed that treating Jinwoo alone was insufficient; Woohee also needed concurrent psychological therapy.

Yet, he knew this was unlikely to happen.

The chairman’s pride in his perfect Alpha son was overwhelming.

He didn’t think Jinwoo’s disciplining of Woohee was wrong—he only wanted to correct Jinwoo’s obsessive behavior toward Woohee, as if the younger brother were his Omega.

Had Woohee manifested as an Omega instead of an Alpha, Jinwoo might have fully assaulted him under their parents’ negligent watch.

The parents bore significant responsibility for Jinwoo’s unresolved mental illness.

Their subtle disdain for Woohee—the “unplanned child” who posed a threat to their marital harmony—manifested in their tolerance of Jinwoo’s authoritarian behavior.

Yet, they conveniently shifted the blame for their son’s instability onto Dr. Yoon, asking him to “fix” Jinwoo.

This was not solely Jinwoo’s problem.

Without addressing the familial dynamics—the parents, Jinwoo’s behavior, and Woohee’s normalization of abuse—no true resolution could be reached.

“Doctor, look how kind and gentle Woohee is,” Jinwoo remarked, carefully folding the letter and slipping it back into its envelope.

Dr. Yoon caught the implication behind Jinwoo’s words.

“Almost like an Omega, you mean?”

“Yes.” Jinwoo, caught off guard by the blunt question, hesitated before quickly adjusting his expression.

“Doctor, what kind of nonsense is that to say about an Alpha like me? If Woohee heard that, he’d be upset.”

Dr. Yoon didn’t believe Jinwoo.

The man was a patient adept at using his charm and eloquence to deceive others, all in pursuit of a quick release from the hospital.

* * *