The dining room fell into a suffocating hush after the guards' footsteps faded, the metallic tang of fear lingering in the air like smoke. Plates sat half-eaten, utensils forgotten as the family stared at their laps, the echo of the maid's final scream still vibrating in their bones. Jungkook continued rocking Taehyung in his lap, her soft breaths evening out against his chest, oblivious to the carnage her pain had unleashed. He brushed a thumb over her bandaged hand—quickly wrapped by a summoned medic—his touch feather-light, as if she were spun glass.

Taehyung stirred slightly, murmuring in her sleep, 'Oppa... hurts less now...' He shushed her with a kiss to her forehead, his massive frame a fortress around her fragility. The family exchanged furtive looks, the uncles' faces paling further. They had come to breakfast with a purpose, one that now felt like signing their own death warrants. But greed was a stubborn beast, and the prospect of allying with the Kim conglomerate through Taehyung's marriage to their heir could erase debts, secure power. She was 20 now—ripe for it, they whispered in private meetings. Jungkook's obsession be damned; they'd force the issue.