PART 3
Kang Jun raised the gun.
Every instinct in my body told me to run, but Hana was behind me.
So I stepped in front of her.
My knees were trembling, and my heart was pounding so violently that I could hear it in my ears. Still, I forced myself to look directly at the man who had stolen twelve years of my daughter’s life.
He was no longer the charming groom I remembered.
His hair had turned silver near the temples. His face was thinner, harder, and completely calm. He wore a dark wool coat over an expensive suit, as though he had just left an important business meeting.
The gun in his hand did not shake.
“Move away from the child,” he said.
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Perhaps no one had refused him in a long time.
Behind me, Hana gripped the back of my coat.
Mary Lou stood in the doorway above us, one hand pressed against the metal frame.
“Kang Jun,” she whispered. “Put the gun down.”
He looked at her and smiled.
“My wife.”
“I stopped being your wife years ago.”
“That is not what the documents say.”
“The documents also say your businesses are legal.”
His smile disappeared.
From upstairs came the crash of breaking wood. The men at the front door had entered the house.
Kang Jun glanced toward the ceiling.
“You made this more difficult than it needed to be.”
“You knew we were leaving,” Mary Lou said.
“I knew before you did.”
Hana’s fingers tightened around my coat.
Kang Jun looked at her.
“Hana, come to me.”
She pressed herself against my back.
“No.”
His expression changed for only a second, but I saw it.
Anger.
Not the loud, uncontrolled anger of an ordinary man. His was colder. It was the anger of someone who believed obedience belonged to him.
“I am your father.”
“You’re the man who locks the doors.”
The words were barely louder than a whisper.
Kang Jun’s jaw tightened.
Then his gaze dropped to the silver key in my hand.
“Give me that.”
Mary Lou looked at me sharply.
“Mom, don’t.”
Kang Jun took one step forward.
I closed my fingers around the key.
“What does it open?”
“That does not concern you.”
“It concerns me if you’re pointing a gun at my granddaughter.”
“You arrived in my country, entered my property, and touched money that does not belong to you.”
“Neither does my daughter.”
His face hardened.
For the first time, I understood why Mary Lou had been so afraid. Kang Jun did not need to shout. He carried the certainty that he could erase anyone who stood in his way.
Heavy footsteps moved across the kitchen above us.
One of the men called out in Korean.
Kang Jun answered without taking his eyes off me.
Mary Lou moved farther into the passage.
“What did you tell them?” she asked.
“That the basement is empty.”
“Why?”
“Because I would prefer to handle this privately.”
A terrible thought entered my mind.
The men upstairs were not there to rescue us.
They were there to clean the house after Kang Jun finished.
Mary Lou seemed to reach the same conclusion.
“You’re going to kill us.”
Kang Jun sighed.
“You always imagine the worst.”
“You put me in a hospital and told the doctors I fell down the stairs.”
“You were hysterical.”
“You broke my ribs.”
“You tried to steal my daughter.”
“She is my daughter too!”
Hana flinched.
Kang Jun’s gaze flicked toward her.
“This conversation is upsetting the child.”
I could not stop myself.
I laughed.
The sound surprised everyone, including me.
Kang Jun stared at me.
“You lock a child inside a monitored house, threaten her mother, point a gun at her grandmother, and now you’re worried she might be upset?”
“Mom,” Mary Lou warned softly.
But I had spent twelve years sitting alone at Christmas, believing my daughter was too busy to come home.
I had spent twelve years blaming myself.
Fear was still inside me, but something hotter had begun burning beside it.
“You know what I see when I look at you?” I asked him.
Kang Jun’s eyes narrowed.
“I see a frightened little man.”
His finger shifted against the gun.
“A frightened man with money, cameras, guards, fake police officers, and a loaded weapon. Yet you are still afraid of one woman and an eleven-year-old girl.”
“Be quiet.”
“You’re afraid Mary Lou will tell the truth.”
“I said be quiet.”
“You’re afraid Hana will grow old enough to understand what you are.”
He raised the gun higher.
Mary Lou stepped forward.
“Kang Jun!”
“And most of all,” I continued, “you’re afraid of whatever that key opens.”
He stared at my closed fist.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
The key mattered more than the cash.
More than the house.
Possibly more than our lives.
I lifted my hand.
“You want it?”
“Give it to me.”
“Put the gun down.”
“No.”
“Then come and take it.”
“Mom, don’t do this,” Mary Lou pleaded.
Kang Jun moved closer.
The passage was narrow, forcing him to approach directly. He could not walk around me without squeezing against the wall.
I waited until he was only a few feet away.
Then I threw the key.
Not toward him.
Behind him.
It struck the concrete floor and slid into the darkness at the bottom of the basement.
Kang Jun instinctively turned his head.
“Now!” Mary Lou shouted.
Hana grabbed my arm and pulled me sideways.
Mary Lou slammed her palm against a red button hidden beside the metal door.
The basement lights went out.
A deafening alarm exploded through the house.
Kang Jun fired.
The gunshot was so loud in the enclosed passage that pain burst through my ears.
Something struck the wall beside my face.
Concrete dust filled my mouth.
Hana screamed.
Mary Lou grabbed both of us and shoved us through the metal doorway.
“Run!”
We stumbled through darkness as another shot rang out.
Behind us, Kang Jun shouted in Korean.
The passage turned sharply to the left. Mary Lou pushed against my back, guiding me forward.
“I can’t see!”
“Keep your hand on the wall!”
The floor sloped downward. Pipes ran above our heads, dripping cold water. Somewhere behind us, metal crashed against metal.
Kang Jun had found the door.
“Hana!” Mary Lou called.
“I’m here!”
“Take Grandma’s hand!”
A small hand found mine.
We ran.
I did not know where the passage led or how long my legs could carry me. My lungs burned. My shoulder struck the wall, but I barely felt it.
Behind us, a narrow beam of light appeared.
Kang Jun had entered the tunnel.
“Mary Lou!” he called. “Stop running!”
My daughter did not answer.
“Those passports are worthless!” he shouted. “The woman helping you works for me!”
Mary Lou stumbled.
Only for a moment, but I felt it.
“Kang Jun is lying,” I said.
“No,” she whispered. “He isn’t.”
The flashlight behind us grew brighter.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“The escape route was supposed to remain secret. Only one other person knew about this tunnel.”
Hana began crying as she ran.
“Ms. Park?”
Mary Lou’s silence was the answer.
The private investigator had betrayed them.
The passports, transportation, and promised safe house had all been part of Kang Jun’s trap.
“Where does this tunnel lead?” I asked.
“To an alley behind the next street.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know.”
The flashlight beam swept across the wall beside us.
Kang Jun was getting closer.
Mary Lou stopped beside a large pipe.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She grabbed a rusted wheel attached to it and pulled.
It did not move.
“Help me.”
I put both hands on the wheel.
Together, we forced it to turn.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the pipe groaned.
Water burst from the ceiling behind us.
Kang Jun shouted.
Within seconds, the narrow tunnel filled with spraying water. His flashlight beam spun wildly as he lost his footing.
“Go!” Mary Lou yelled.
We ran again.
At the end of the tunnel, Hana climbed a metal ladder and pushed against a round cover above her head.
It would not open.
“It’s stuck!”
Mary Lou climbed beneath her and pushed.
The cover lifted slightly, then dropped.
Footsteps splashed through the tunnel behind us.
Kang Jun had recovered.
I climbed the first few rungs and pressed my shoulder against the cover.
“Together,” I said.
The three of us pushed.
The cover scraped aside.
Freezing night air rushed over my face.
Hana climbed out first. I followed, pulling myself into a narrow alley lined with trash bins and brick walls. Christmas lights hung from balconies above us, blinking red and gold as if this were an ordinary peaceful evening.
Mary Lou emerged behind me.
“Which way?” I asked.
Before she could answer, a van turned into the alley.
Its headlights blinded us.
Hana screamed.
The vehicle stopped only a few feet away.
The side door opened.
A woman leaned out.
She wore a cream-colored coat and held up both hands.
“Mary Lou! Get in!”
My daughter froze.
“Ms. Park.”
The woman looked behind us.
“There’s no time. Kang Jun’s men are coming.”
“You betrayed us.”
Ms. Park’s expression changed.
“What?”
“He knows about the passports.”
“Of course he knows. One of my employees was arrested this morning.”
“He said you work for him.”
“And you believe him?”
The metal cover behind us moved.
Kang Jun was climbing out of the tunnel.
Ms. Park reached inside her coat.
Mary Lou pulled Hana behind her.
“Don’t!”
Ms. Park removed a small pistol.
She aimed past us.
Kang Jun’s head appeared above the opening.
She fired.
The bullet struck the brick beside him. He dropped back into the tunnel.
“Get in the van!” she shouted.
We had no better choice.
Mary Lou pushed Hana inside. I climbed after her, and Mary Lou jumped in last.
Ms. Park slammed the door.
The van accelerated through the alley.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
I sat on the floor, trying to catch my breath. My ears were still ringing from the gunshots. Hana clung to Mary Lou, her face buried against her mother’s chest.
Ms. Park sat across from us.
She was perhaps fifty, with sharp eyes and perfectly arranged hair. She placed the pistol beside her but kept one hand near it.
“You changed the escape time,” she said.
“I had no choice,” Mary Lou replied. “My mother arrived.”
Ms. Park looked at me.
“You were not part of the plan.”
“I noticed.”
“Did anyone follow you from the airport?”
“I took a taxi.”
“Did you use your passport at a hotel?”
“I came directly to the house.”
“Did you make any calls?”
“My phone didn’t work after I landed.”
Ms. Park looked at Mary Lou.
“Kang Jun probably blocked the signal once she entered the neighborhood.”
“Where are you taking us?” I asked.
“To a temporary location.”
“No,” Mary Lou said.
Ms. Park’s face remained calm.
“You cannot go to the embassy. Kang Jun will have people watching it.”
“You knew about the tunnel,” Mary Lou said.
“Yes.”
“You knew the cash would be delivered.”
“Yes.”
“You knew we planned to leave tomorrow.”
“I arranged it.”
“And he knew everything.”
Ms. Park leaned forward.
“Because your housekeeper found one of the passports.”
“We don’t have a housekeeper.”
Silence filled the van.
Ms. Park stared at her.
Mary Lou’s face slowly changed.
“What did you say?”
“The woman who visits every Tuesday.”
“No one visits that house.”
Ms. Park reached for her phone.
“Then someone gave me false reports.”
I watched her carefully.
Perhaps she was telling the truth.
Perhaps she was another layer of the trap.
I thought about the silver key.
My hand was empty.
I had thrown it into the basement.
Kang Jun had probably found it by now.
I turned toward Mary Lou.
“The key.”
She lowered her voice.
“He didn’t get the real one.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“The one I gave you was a copy.”
“Where is the original?”
Mary Lou looked at Hana.
Her daughter reached beneath the collar of her school uniform and pulled out a thin chain.
A second silver key hung from it.
Ms. Park’s eyes fixed on the key.
She leaned forward too quickly.
“Give that to me.”
Mary Lou immediately covered it with her hand.
“No.”
“I need to protect it.”
“You told me the key opened a deposit box containing the evidence.”
“It does.”
“Then tell me where.”
“I already told you. Seoul Central Station.”
Mary Lou stared at her.
“No, you didn’t.”
Ms. Park became still.
The sound of the van’s engine seemed suddenly louder.
“You told me it was near the station,” Ms. Park said.
“I never told you which station.”
The driver glanced at us through the mirror.
Ms. Park slowly reached toward her pistol.
Mary Lou grabbed it first.
They struggled.
The gun slid across the floor.
Hana screamed.
I caught it before it disappeared beneath the seat.
For one terrifying moment, the weapon was in my hands.
I had never held a gun before.
It felt heavier than I expected.
Ms. Park stopped moving.
“Theresa,” Mary Lou said carefully. “Point it at the floor.”
I did.
“Driver, stop the van,” Mary Lou ordered.
He did not respond.
The locks clicked.
We were trapped inside.
Ms. Park sat back and raised her hands.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Who are you?” Mary Lou demanded.
“I am the person who kept you alive for six years.”
“Who told you about the key?”
Ms. Park said nothing.
Mary Lou’s voice became cold.
“Who told you?”
The driver turned onto a highway.
Outside, the city lights began falling behind us.
Ms. Park looked toward Hana.
That small movement was enough.
Mary Lou saw it too.
“You were watching my daughter.”
“I was protecting her.”
“You were using her.”
“Kang Jun was never interested in the cash,” Ms. Park said. “You know that.”
“Then what does the key open?”
“You already know.”
“No. You told me it opened a box containing account records.”
“That is only part of what is inside.”
I kept the gun pointed downward, but my hands were shaking.
“Where are you taking us?” I asked again.
Ms. Park looked directly at me.
“To the person who has been waiting twelve years to meet you.”
I felt cold spread through my chest.
“Who?”
She did not answer.
Mary Lou moved toward the driver.
He raised a black object in one hand.
A small red light blinked.
“Sit down,” he said in English. “Or I release the gas.”
Mary Lou stopped.
Tiny vents opened near the ceiling.
A faint sweet smell entered the van.
“Hana, cover your mouth!” Mary Lou shouted.
I pulled my coat over my granddaughter’s face.
My vision began to blur.
The gun slipped from my fingers.
Ms. Park watched us without emotion.
The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me was her voice.
“Don’t worry, Theresa. You were always supposed to come to Korea.”
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a narrow bed.
My head throbbed.
The room was dim, but warm. Rain tapped against a window covered with metal bars.
I sat up.
“Hana?”
No answer.
“Mary Lou?”
I staggered to the door and pulled the handle.
Locked.
On a table beside the bed sat a glass of water and a framed photograph.
I picked it up.
My breath stopped.
The photograph had been taken more than thirty years earlier.
It showed me standing in front of my old house in America, holding baby Mary Lou in my arms.
Beside me stood my husband, William.
He had died when Mary Lou was four years old.
At least, that was what I had believed.
Someone had drawn a red circle around the ring on William’s right hand.
Behind the photograph was a handwritten message:
Ask your daughter what her father left inside the wall.
My knees weakened.
There was a sound outside the door.
A key turned in the lock.
I expected Ms. Park or one of Kang Jun’s men.
Instead, an elderly Korean man entered.
He carried a wooden box against his chest.
He placed it on the table and looked at me with tears in his eyes.
“You have William’s face,” he said.
“My husband is dead.”
The man slowly shook his head.
“No, Mrs. Carter.”
He opened the wooden box.
Inside was William’s wedding ring, his American passport, and a photograph dated only three months earlier.
In the photograph, my husband was older, thinner, and completely alive.
He was standing beside Kang Jun.
I stared at the picture until the room began spinning.
“That’s impossible.”
The elderly man leaned closer.
“Your daughter was not chosen by accident.”
My throat tightened.
“What are you talking about?”
“Kang Jun did not marry Mary Lou because he loved her.”
He pointed at William’s ring.
“He married her because her father stole something from his family.”
I looked again at the recent photograph.
The husband I had mourned for nearly thirty years was staring back at me.
Then I noticed the third person standing in the background.
Hana.
The picture had been taken before Mary Lou claimed her daughter had never met her grandfather.
The elderly man closed the box.
“Your husband is alive,” he whispered. “And if Kang Jun finds the real key before midnight, he will kill Mary Lou and make William watch.”
A scream echoed from somewhere beyond the locked room.
It was my daughter.
I ran toward the door, but the elderly man stepped in front of me.
“Move!”
“You cannot save her by going out there.”
“That is my child!”
“Then listen carefully.”
He reached into his pocket and placed a small folded map in my hand.
On it was a drawing of my old house in America.
A black X had been marked inside Mary Lou’s childhood bedroom.
“The key does not open a bank box in Korea,” he said.
“It opens a compartment your husband built inside the wall of your home.”
I stared at him.
The real secret had never been hidden in Korea.
It had been behind me in America for nearly thirty years.
Then the lights went out.
In the darkness, the elderly man whispered one final warning.
“Whatever you do, do not tell Mary Lou that her father is alive.”
The door burst open.
And Kang Jun stepped inside, holding Hana by the arm……………………..
PART 4…
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4…
