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Dennis bursts through the office door, startling Jason and two lawyers mid-conversation.

"We've got something." He pulls the USB from his pocket, tossing it to Nathaniel. "Everything—the fire, forgeries, City Hall. Get it to forensics."

The legal team descends like piranhas, laptops opening, phones appearing. Nathaniel's already plugging in the drive while another lawyer dials forensics.

Dennis drops into his chair, suddenly drained. His fingers find the photo in his pocket—fifteen-year-old Chris beaming at the camera, unknowing. "You better be okay, you dumbass," he mutters, smoothing the creased corner.

The rest of the day blazes past in a blur of activity.

Their office transforms into a war room—evidence sorted into growing piles, timelines constructed on whiteboards, case files multiplying. With each document they uncover, each forged permit they identify, the path to saving Kim Industries grows clearer.

Lancaster's face keeps appearing on TV, talking about "sustainable architecture" and "breathing new life into Kim Industries' failed vision." Dennis wants to punch that smug smile right through the screen.

Chris maintains radio silence. Dennis's phone stays dark, exactly as it should. Doesn't make it any easier.

During the lawyers' smoke break, Dennis's phone lights up—unknown number. His heart jumps before he can stop it.

"Chris!"

"Mr. Kim?"

Lancaster’s voice slithers through the speaker, dripping curiosity. "Do you always answer your phone like this?"

Dennis's palm goes clammy against the phone. Then he remembers—spoiled heir, pretty face, easy mark. "Sorry sir, I just..." He lets his voice crack. "It's been hard since he..."

"It's okay." Lancaster's tone turns butter-soft. "You can talk to me. I'm here for you."

Dennis swallows bile. "Since he dumped me. Thank you for your support."

"If you ever need more... personal support, I could come see you." The invitation slides like silk over steel.

Dennis's stomach flips. But this is his chance to confirm everything. He thinks fast, inventing furiously: "I spoke to him, you know..."

"To who?" Lancaster's voice drops lower, smoother.

"To... Liam." Dennis holds his breath. "In Seattle. Chris's old partner—the one you helped."

Silence crackles over the line.

"He told me things didn't end well with you..." Dennis dangles the bait.

"Is that so?" Amusement colors Lancaster's voice. "Poor boy needed more attention than I could spare. And frankly—" A dark chuckle. "—you're much prettier. My taste has... refined since then."

Got him. The mask slips just enough.

"Mr. Lancaster," Dennis forces a stammer, drama club finally paying off. "I'm flattered."

"Then let me come see you." That warm laugh would work on anyone who hadn't seen behind it.

"It's still too soon." Dennis pitches his voice small, vulnerable. The tip of his pen digs into his thigh. "But thank you for thinking of me."

"Of course, Mr. Kim. May I call you Dennis?"

"Of course. Good day, sir."

"Please," that silky voice curls into his ear, "call me Christopher."

Dennis's pen nearly snaps in his grip. "Of course... Christopher. Good day."

"Talk soon, Dennis."

Dennis ends the call, fighting the urge to sanitize his phone, his ear, and possibly invent time travel just to erase the last five minutes.

By the second day, reporters swarm both their office and Lancaster’s downtown LA building. Dennis watches the morning news from his father's office, Jason perched on the desk beside him, legal papers scattered everywhere.

Breaking news on the Kim Industries fire— The anchor's voice draws everyone's attention. Security footage has identified two individuals at the scene, confirming suspicions of deliberate arson.

Jason leans forward. "They found the footage?"

Local authorities have launched an internal investigation , the anchor continues, following evidence that challenges their initial ruling of construction negligence.

The screen splits to show the Lancaster & Son logo.

Adding to the controversy, Lancaster & Son’s sudden interest in acquiring Kim Industries has drawn scrutiny from industry insiders. Sources report a pattern of similar acquisitions, followed by mysterious company failures.

"Of course they do," Jason mutters.

Particular attention centers on CEO Christopher Lancaster’s son— Chris's site ID photo appears on screen. —who worked as site manager for Kim Industries. His current whereabouts are unknown.

Dennis's chest tightens. He checks his phone again—no messages, no online status, nothing.

Jaehyun Kim, Kim Industries' CEO will address the press this evening with new evidence, while Lancaster & Son remains unavailable for comment.

One more day. Just one more day to hang on.

That evening, Dennis stands at his parents' estate window, staring into the darkness where his burnt building waits. His father's footsteps approach, then a glass appears beside him.

Dennis takes it, nodding in thanks. He swirls the liquid, spotting the round ice cube. The scent makes him laugh— sparkling grape juice, just like when he was small, perched on his father's knee trying to be grown up at business dinners.

"Thanks, Dad." He clinks glasses when his father raises his in silence.

"You've been quiet," his father says in Korean, joining him at the window.

"I'm worried about Chris." Dennis takes a sip. "He's stuck there with his father now."

"Mm."

"I was so stupid." Dennis's fingers tighten around his glass. "He tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. Let my feelings get in the way."

His father takes a long drink.

"Love's like that."

The words settle between them. Dennis stares into his glass while his father lets the silence do the talking.

"When he refused his last name," his father finally says, "I didn't realize Lancaster had such power over him still."

"I just hope he gets away before Lancaster sees the news tomorrow. He gave up everything to get us that evidence."

"Every son needs to run his own race eventually." His father glances pointedly at Dennis's glass. "Some parents think they can protect their children forever with grape juice instead of letting them learn from their own mistakes. Like passing out drunk for the housekeeper to find."

Dennis's cheeks heat.

"But in the end, you make your own choices." His father takes another sip of whiskey, ice clinking, watching the city lights beyond their grounds.

"Your mother's Japanese. I'm Korean. History happened."

Dennis's glass stills halfway to his lips.

His father lets the weight of those words sink in before continuing. "She still visits their graves every Obon . Kneels and apologizes for choosing me. For having you."

Dennis turns the glass in his hands. Watches the round ice cube bump against its walls. “What about my other grandparents?” he says, when he looks up. “I never knew them either."

"Disowned me. Never spoke to me again." His father shrugs. "A great dishonor, they said—their only son marrying the enemy’s daughter. But they made their choice. And I—" He turns to look at Dennis. "I won't apologize to anyone for mine."

"That's very Kim Industries of you." Dennis bumps his father's shoulder with his own.

"And you're Kim Industries through and through." His father's mouth quirks, just slightly. "So do what you think is right—as long as you listen to what I say, that is."

" Dad! " Dennis’s groan dissolves into a laugh.

"Boys, dinner's ready!" The scent of his mother's home-cooking—rare as pink diamonds—wafts in with her voice. Both men turn toward the dining room.

His father tugs his jacket straight. “And I say you see this through to the end, Deni-ya."

The words hang between them. His father doesn't elaborate, doesn't need to. For the first time, Dennis feels truly seen—his work, his choices, his heart. All of it.

Maybe that's all the confirmation he needs for tomorrow.