Ji‑Eun's POV: The Stand
The courtroom buzzed with low murmurs, flashing cameras, and the shuffle of polished shoes. Ji‑Eun sat upright, hands folded tightly in her lap, the weight of her mother's necklace a steady pressure at her collarbone. Every heartbeat pounded like a war drum.
Across the aisle sat the board members of Kang Enterprises, their expressions guarded, their loyalties fractured. And beyond them—Min‑ah, flanked by her attorney, her gaze venomous and unblinking.
The judge entered. The courtroom rose. The reckoning had begun.
"Call your first witness," the prosecutor announced.
Ji‑Eun stood, heels clicking like gunshots on marble as she stepped toward the stand. Her eyes swept the room—Joon‑Hyuk nodded once, proud and firm. Min‑Jae gave her a subtle thumbs-up. Detective Song leaned forward with quiet focus. And in the back row, Joon‑Hyuk's grandmother sat—dignified in silver-gray hanbok, her wise eyes never leaving Ji‑Eun's face.
She raised her right hand.
"I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth…"
And she did.
She recounted the lab sabotage. The fake engineering documents. The bribed security teams. How Kang Seok-ho manipulated every thread—and how Min-ah had picked up where he left off.
"And what was your role in all this?" the defense lawyer snapped, trying to rattle her.
Ji‑Eun didn't blink. "To undo what he built. To protect what's left. To speak, even when I was supposed to stay silent."
Her voice trembled—but didn't break. Not when they played the recording Min‑Jae had recovered. Not when Min‑ah's lawyer objected. Not when she caught Min‑ah muttering under her breath.
Ji‑Eun stepped down to scattered murmurs. She had made her mark.
---
Joon‑Hyuk's POV: The Break
During recess, Joon‑Hyuk stood in the hallway near a tall window, eyes on the courtyard below. Rain streaked the glass. His phone buzzed.
A text from Grandma:
> He would be ashamed. But I am proud of you.
He closed his eyes. For years, he'd feared turning against his bloodline would mean loneliness. But here, standing on the edge of justice, he realized—family wasn't blood. It was truth. It was Ji‑Eun. Min‑Jae. Even Detective Song.
He turned as footsteps approached.
"You're next," the prosecutor said gently.
Joon‑Hyuk nodded. "Let's finish this."
---
Min‑ah's POV: Cracks in Control
Min‑ah watched him take the stand, fury bubbling beneath her designer blazer. She had planned everything—right down to the press releases. But she hadn't planned on Ji‑Eun having so much fight. Or Joon‑Hyuk standing against her.
"You could've had everything," she hissed under her breath.
But Joon‑Hyuk looked at her with nothing but quiet resolve.
And then, he began.
"I am Joon‑Hyuk Kang, the legal heir of Kang Seok‑ho. Today, I stand not to protect my inheritance, but to expose the rot that came with it."
Min‑ah's heart pounded as he pulled out the file.
"Internal memos. Falsified accounts. My father's journal. I'm submitting all of it."
The courtroom exploded. Gasps. Objections. The judge called for order.
Min‑ah's mask cracked.
She stood up. "He's lying!"
All eyes turned to her.
"He's doing this for her!" she shouted, pointing at Ji‑Eun. "This was supposed to be mine!"
Silence fell. And in that silence, the damage was done.
---
Joon‑Hyuk's POV: Full Circle
As the session ended, Joon‑Hyuk stepped down. Reporters swarmed. Questions flew. But all he saw was his grandmother waiting, arms outstretched.
"You're free now," she whispered into his shoulder. "You did what your father never had the courage to."
---
Ji‑Eun's POV: Back to the Light
Outside, sunlight broke through gray clouds. Ji‑Eun stood beside Joon‑Hyuk, Min‑Jae on her other side, as cameras clicked. But she didn't care about the headlines.
She cared about the way Joon‑Hyuk's fingers found hers.
The judge's final words still echoed in her ears:
"Given the overwhelming evidence, the court suspends Min‑ah Kang pending criminal investigation…"
It wasn't the end.
But it was the beginning of something new.
As they walked down the courthouse steps, Ji‑Eun whispered, "We did it."
Joon‑Hyuk smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "No. You did it."
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