Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
The Invisible Heir
The cold in Canada wasn’t the problem.
Felix was used to winter. To snow falling in silence. To frozen lakes and buildings that seemed asleep beneath layers of perfect white.
What he never got used to was the silence of his own family.
—You’re late —his grandfather said without looking up from the blueprint spread across the table.
Felix dropped his keys by the door and shrugged off his coat with a sigh.
—I saved a multimillion-dollar meeting, thanks for asking.
—I didn’t ask.
Felix smirked.
That was their dynamic. Dry. Direct. Real.
And, in its own way, full of love.
Felix’s maternal grandfather had traveled to Seoul sixteen years earlier.
Seojon was not just any man. He had learned to harden himself without becoming cruel, to observe without intervening… until he no longer could. His strength didn’t come only from age, but from the choices he had made: staying out of his daughter’s marriage had been, for a long time, a form of respect. Or at least, that’s what he had told himself so he could sleep at night.
But every limit has a breaking point.
He found it one silent afternoon, in a house far too large for so much emptiness.
Felix was sitting on the hallway floor, his back against the wall. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t asking for anything. He wasn’t making a sound. And that was what unsettled Seojon the most.
Children who suffer, cry.
Those who have already given up… don’t.
—How long have you been here? —the old man asked, his calm voice hiding something darker.
Felix looked up, as if calculating whether it was worth answering.
—I don’t know —he said at last.
That answer was enough.
That very night, Seojon understood he could no longer remain a polite spectator. That his silence, too, was a form of abandonment.
The conversation with his daughter was brief. Uncomfortable. Almost nonexistent.
—I’m taking him with me —he announced, without raising his voice.
She didn’t even pretend to be surprised.
Her husband, as cold as ever, barely looked up from his phone.
—Do whatever you want.
There was no argument.
No objection.
No love.
Felix didn’t react like a child whose life was being changed. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t hesitate. He simply took his grandfather’s hand when it was offered.
And that, to Seojon, was more devastating than any tears.
Chris, on the other hand, watched everything from a distance, with the ease of someone who had always been chosen. The right son. The visible heir. The one who never had to wonder if he was enough.
And so, without real goodbyes, without promises or explanations, Felix left Korea.
The journey to Canada was long, but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel endless. There was something different in the air… something like opportunity.
When he arrived, everything was new: the language, the weather, the overly orderly streets, the different kind of silence. But Seojon never treated him like someone broken.
He didn’t overprotect him.
He didn’t pity him.
He respected him.
—Here, you are not what they left behind —he told him one night over a simple dinner—. Here, you decide who you want to be.
And Felix, who had learned to expect nothing, began—very slowly—to believe him.
The years passed with almost silent discipline. Felix grew up among blueprints, structures, and business conversations. He discovered in architecture something he had never had in his childhood: control.
Designing spaces was, in a way, rebuilding himself.
He learned that every line had a purpose.
That every void could be filled.
That even the most fragile structures could stand… if properly calculated.
Seojon didn’t hand him success, but he gave him the tools to reach it.
When Felix decided to start his own hotel chain, he didn’t do it as a spoiled heir’s whim, but as someone who deeply understood what it meant to have no place to belong.
—I want people to arrive and feel like they can stay —he explained once.
Seojon watched him in silence, recognizing something beyond ambition in those words.
It was need.
It was memory.
It was a way of healing.
With his grandfather’s financial backing—built over decades in construction—Felix raised his first hotel. Then another. And another.
They weren’t just buildings.
They were carefully designed refuges. Spaces where luxury wasn’t the main focus… but the feeling of being seen, of being welcomed.
And even as the world began to recognize his name, Felix never forgot the cold hallway where he learned what abandonment felt like.
Because deep down, each of his hotels was a silent answer to that childhood.
A promise he made to himself:
He would never be invisible again.
He stepped closer to the table. The blueprint was impeccable: firm lines, intelligent decisions, elegant structure. His grandfather still had a brilliant mind.
—You changed the layout —Felix murmured.
—I improved the layout —the old man corrected.
Felix placed his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward.
—The flow of people is going to bottleneck in this area.
His grandfather looked up. Silence. Evaluation.
Then, a faint smile.
—Good. You’re still useful for something.
Felix let out a soft laugh.
This was his home.
Not the enormous house he grew up in. Not the parents who never loved him. Not the surname that only appeared when there was something to gain.
Here… he existed.
Here… he was enough.
But even in this safe space, there were things he never said.
Like the fact that the most exclusive hotel chain across three continents bore his signature.
In secret.
Always in secret.
Because Felix had learned at ten years old that love in his family came with conditions.
And he had never met them again.
The sound of a phone vibrating broke the moment.
Felix glanced at the screen.
Unknown number.
He ignored the call.
Returned to the blueprint.
The phone vibrated again.
And again.
And again.
His grandfather clicked his tongue.
—Answer it. Persistence usually comes with trouble.
Felix hesitated for a second… and answered.
—Yes?
The silence on the other end was brief.
Too brief.
—Felix.
His body tensed.
That voice.
He knew it.
He hated it.
—I thought you had forgotten my number —his father continued, his tone hovering between disdain and false politeness.
Felix closed his eyes for a moment.
The past always found a way back.
—What do you want?
—Straight to the point. Canada didn’t improve your manners.
—Don’t pretend to care. You never did.
A pause.
Cold.
Calculated.
—I need you to come back.
Felix let out a humorless laugh.
—No.
—That wasn’t an invitation.
—Then keep talking to yourself —he replied, ready to hang up.
—We have debts.
Silence.
Felix didn’t respond.
Not because he had nothing to say.
But because he already knew how that sentence ended.
—And you’re going to fix it.
There it was.
Not a son.
A resource.
Felix pressed his hand against the table, fingers tightening.
—I’m not responsible for your mistakes.
—But you are for your name.
—I left that name when I was ten.
—Not really.
His father’s voice changed.
Lower.
More dangerous.
—We’ve already made an arrangement.
Felix frowned.
—What arrangement?
—Your marriage.
The world didn’t stop.
But something inside Felix did.
—I’m sorry?
—A strategic marriage. Beneficial for everyone.
Felix stopped breathing for a second.
Then said, slowly:
—No.
—You’re not in a position to refuse.
—Watch me.
—If you refuse, we lose everything. And you… —pause— you’ll lose things too.
Felix narrowed his eyes.
A threat.
It was always a threat.
—I don’t care.
—You should.
—I lose nothing. Let me remind you, father, I’m financially independent, and in Canada I owe no one anything. Your threats don’t work on me.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was dense. As if the air itself refused to move between them.
And then came the blow.
—You don’t —his father said calmly, more chilling than any shout—. It’s your brother, Chris… he’s caught in the middle of this war. Him and his family. So don’t think you have a choice… son…
The word son landed like mockery.
Felix didn’t respond immediately. Something burned in his chest—a dangerous mix of fury and fear. Because he knew that tone. It wasn’t an impulsive threat. It was a carefully crafted sentence.
—Don’t you dare… —he started, but his voice faltered just enough to betray him.
His father smiled. Not with joy. With victory.
—You were always brilliant, Felix. But also… predictable. I knew exactly where to strike.
And there it was.
Chris.
Not him. Not his empire, not his money, not his pride. His brother. The only bond that had survived a family that had never truly been a family.
Felix clenched his jaw until it hurt. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his skin as if that could keep him grounded, keep him from exploding right there.
He could face him. He could destroy him. He had the resources, the intelligence, the coldness to do it.
But not at that cost.
Not at Chris’s expense.
Silence returned, but this time it was different. More dangerous. More resigned.
Behind him, his grandfather said nothing. He didn’t need to. His mere presence was a reminder of everything Felix had learned… and everything he was about to sacrifice.
Felix closed his eyes for a second. Just one. Long enough to rebuild himself.
When he opened them, there was no visible anger. Only calculation.
—What do you want? —he finally asked, his voice low, controlled… dangerous.
Because if this was a war, then he wasn’t going to lose.
But he wasn’t going to play fair either.
Another pause.
Longer.
Heavier.
—It’s in Korea —his father continued—. It’s already arranged.
Felix hung up.
Without goodbye.
Without trembling.
Without breaking.
He placed the phone on the table.
Silence returned.
But it wasn’t the same.
His grandfather was watching him.
He didn’t ask.
He never asked right away.
Felix took a deep breath.
—They want me to get married.
The old man raised an eyebrow.
—And?
Felix let out a short laugh.
Empty.
—Not to someone I choose.
Silence.
—Then don’t marry —his grandfather said simply.
Felix looked at him.
If only it were that easy.
If only his life weren’t tied to decisions he never made.
If only…
But no.
Because that call wasn’t the problem.
It was the beginning.
And for the first time in years…
Felix didn’t have a plan.