The winter solstice had descended upon Seoul with the ferocity of a siege, blanketing the Jeon estate in three feet of pristine snow that transformed the ancient hanok into a fortress of isolation—a private world where the old rules no longer applied, where the barriers between patriarch and daughter-in-law had been completely obliterated by three months of secret sin. Three months since the first claiming in the courtyard. Three months since the pantry breeding. Three months since the positive test had confirmed what their bodies already knew: Taehyung carried Jungkook's heir, his legacy, his ultimate victory over the son who had failed to satisfy what his father now possessed completely.

She stood before the full-length mirror in the hidden chamber Jungkook had prepared for her—a room within the east wing that had been his late wife's dressing room, now converted into a sanctuary of their depravity. The walls were lined with mirrors that reflected her transformation endlessly, multiplying her submission into infinity. She was naked save for the norigae pendant Jungkook had given her at the wedding, the ornamental tassels now resting against the slight swell of her abdomen where his child grew.