* * *

One day, as Yeo Woohee scooped a bite of rice from his tray, Kang Dohee quickly placed a piece of sausage on it.

“You should eat too, Dohee,” Yeo Woohee said.

“No, I’m happy just watching you eat.”

“But I feel bad if you don’t get to eat because of me,” Yeo Woohee replied, holding the spoon up to Kang Dohee’s mouth.

“Open up.”

“….”

“Come on.”

Reluctantly, Kang Dohee opened his mouth.

Meanwhile, Yeo Woohee calculated in his mind: ‘By now, my father should be coming to get me.’

After all, this cheap sausage wouldn’t be on the menu once he went back to the chairman’s mansion.

Yeo Woohee never let up in maintaining his angelic image.

Although the novel depicted Yeo Woohee as having a strained relationship with his father, he had no intention of following that path.

Why antagonize billionaire father when being amicable could secure immense wealth?

Even if it was discovered that he wasn’t his biological child, as long as he cherished him, he could count on leniency.

After all, the fault lay with his greedy biological mother who had abandoned him, not with him.

While they were eating, the orphanage grew noisy.

Yeo Woohee glanced out the window to see a black sedan pulling into the yard.

‘It’s time.’

Yeo Woohee casually moved all the sausages from his tray onto Kang Dohee’s.

“Woohee?” Kang Dohee asked.

“Dohee, remember how I told you my father were coming to get me?”

Yeo Woohee stood up from the low table. Kang Dohee looked at him anxiously.

A man in a black suit entered, following a brief exchange with the orphanage director.

“Young master, I’ve come to escort you.”

“What? Young master? Woohee’s a young master?”

“Wow, does that mean he’s from a rich family?”

The children whispered, gazing at Yeo Woohee with envy.

While this should have been a joyous occasion, tears welled up in Kang Dohee’s eyes.

Yeo Woohee used his sleeve to wipe them away.

“Don’t worry, Dohee. Your father will come for you too. So, make sure to wait for them.”

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please, don’t.”

Kang Dohee clung to him, knowing his plea was unreasonable.

Yeo Woohee gently stroked his back.

“We’ll meet again.”

“Sniff… hic… sniff.”

His stifled sobs broke free. Yeo Woohee loosened his arms from around Kang Dohee.

“I’m different. You’re an angelic, beautiful child they could never abandon, but my father has surely forgotten me. Don’t go. If you leave, I’ll be alone.”

Suppressing his feelings, Kang Dohee let Yeo Woohee go.

From the window, he watched the sleek luxury car disappear into the distance.

Without Yeo Woohee, every day felt meaningless.

Kang Dohee believed he would grow up abandoned, only to be cast out of the orphanage.

His pillow was stained yellow from tears he cried nightly, a permanent mark of his despair.

Then, one day, as he lay bedridden with grief, someone lifted him.

“Dohee, Kang Dohee! I’m sorry I’m late, son.”

“Huh?”

Kang Dohee’s lifeless eyes flickered back to life at the familiar scent of his father.

A shiver ran through him.

Just as Yeo Woohee had said, waiting had brought his father back.

“Why were you so late? You forgot about me, didn’t you?”

“No, not for a single moment. Dohee, I’m sorry. My work took longer than expected. Forgive me.”

His father wept.

Was his organization finally stable?

“Fine. But you can’t leave me again.”

As he clung to his father’s suit, Kang Dohee thought of Yeo Woohee’s pale face.

Without him, he would’ve succumbed to the bullies and fled the orphanage.

Tightening his grip, he made a promise to himself.

‘We’ll meet again. And I’ll protect you.’

---

Upon arriving at the Yeo’s mansion, Yeo Woohee cautiously stepped inside.

No one came to greet him.

‘I guess I’ll need to play the pitiful child again.’

The household staff, busy cleaning, ignored him.

Quietly, Yeo Woohee retrieved a cleaning rag and began wiping the living room table on his knees.

“What are you doing? Move, I need to vacuum,” a housekeeper scolded.

“Sorry.”

A Swiss-made vacuum cleaner worth over 1.5 million won appeared, demonstrating its superiority over Yeo Woohee’s effort.

Though the reprimand was fair, Yeo Woohee feigned hurt, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He moved to clean the stairs instead, dragging the rag up and down.

At that moment, Chairman Yeo arrived unexpectedly, spotting his son crouched on the stairs.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The chairman’s anger flared as he took in the sight of his son cleaning.

Though only his illegitimate child, Yeo Woohee carried his blood.

The sight enraged him.

“Who made you do this?”

The staff averted their eyes, terrified.

No one had asked Yeo Woohee to clean; they simply hadn’t stopped him, fearing his mother’s wrath.

“I just wanted to clean. I’m useful now, right?”

Smiling faintly, Yeo Woohee looked up at his father.

“Agh…”

Chairman Yeo pulled him into an embrace.

Yeo Woohee’s attempt to prove his worth broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Woohee. I was wrong.”

“Sniff… It was scary. At the orphanage, they didn’t feed me, and the kids hit me, calling me a bastard.”

Exaggerating his struggles, Yeo Woohee even lifted his shirt to reveal a bruise on his belly—courtesy of the bullies.

Chairman Yeo’s eyes widened.

“What in the world…”

“Scary older boys kicked Woohee with their feet. Please don’t send Woohee back to the orphanage. Sniffle. I’ll eat less and clean very hard!”

Yeo Woohee put on a performance so convincing that even the most heartless brute would falter.

Kneeling with tiny hands clasped in desperation, he looked up at Chairman Yeo with tearful eyes.

The chairman felt as though his heart was being torn apart.

It dawned on him just how grievously he had erred.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Woohee. Daddy was wrong.”

Even though he was an alpha known for never shedding tears, Chairman Yeo wept.

In his heart, he vowed to take better care of this child.

From the room nearby, Kim Minjeong emerged, drawn by the commotion.

Her expression turned cold when she saw her husband apologizing to an illegitimate child.

Chairman Yeo snatched the cleaning rag from Woohee’s hands, tossed it to the floor, and scooped the boy into his arms, heading toward the elevator to take him to his room.

Kim Minjeong, who had lived a life of quiet kindness, could not forgive her husband for treating the child of another omega so well.

It stung all the more because he was the alpha she had bonded with.

Her fists clenched tightly, nails digging into her palms until they drew blood.

Her lips, painted in soft pink lipstick, were bitten raw.

Dark thoughts churned in her mind.

She imagined smothering Woohee’s face with a pillow as he slept or pushing him from the fifth-floor attic.

Then, horrified, she gasped. How could she even think of such atrocities against a child?

She must have gone mad.

Raised like a delicate flower, Kim Minjeong couldn’t bring herself to hate Woohee, no matter how much she wanted to.

The realization that she now had to raise him as her own son tore at her heart.

Sniffle. Sob.

An illegitimate child—what a horrific nightmare.

She returned to her room, threw herself onto the bed, and cried herself to exhaustion.

As she drifted off, she felt something damp on her face.

A cool, wet towel lay on her forehead. What was this?

* * *