Semua Bab My Boss is a Secretive K-Drama Freak?!!: Bab 21 - Bab 30

~ Hailey Park ~If anyone ever writes my biography, chapter one better say:She survived dinner with the Jangs and deserves a national award.Because that was not dinner.That was onal warfare served with side dishes.Now Ethan and I are walking out of the mansion, and I swear I can still hear Mrs. Jang in the doorway yelling,“BYE SWEETHEART! REMEMBER TO HOLD HANDS IN THE CAR!”Ma’am please.I am barely holding on to LIFE.The moment we step outside, I fling myself into the cold night air like a possessed Victorian heroine trying to faint dramatically.Ethan side-eyes me.“You’re being dramatic.”“DRAMATIC? DRAMATIC?? YOUR MOTHER JUST PROPOSED AN ENGAGEMENT PARTY.”He shrugs.“She likes you.”“She wants to adopt me into the family by FORCE.”“That’s normal.”“NO IT IS NOT.”He walks ahead casually, like we didn’t just almost get fake-married in the dining room.I stomp after him.“This is YOUR fault.”“How?”“You breathed near me.”“…That’s not—”“You attracted my downfall.”He sighs

~ Hailey ~If you’re wondering what true terror looks like, imagine this:Your boss. His mother. A lunch bag big enough to feed a small village. And you— the innocent bystander who accidentally got roped into a fake relationship that is now spiraling like a K-drama on steroids.That’s my life.I’m pacing in the hallway like a malfunctioning Roomba. Ethan’s mother is here. IN THE BUILDING. Bringing lunch. FOR US.Ethan stands behind me like the world’s calmest serial killer.“Stop pacing,” he says.“I can’t. My soul is trying to escape my body.”“You’re overreacting.”“YOUR MOTHER THINKS I’M YOUR FIANCÉE.”“She likes you.”“That is NOT comforting!”He adjusts his cuffs like he’s in a fashion commercial.“You’ll be fine.”“No, you’ll be fine. I’m the one she keeps trying to feed into marriage.”He blinks. “That’s not how marriage works.”“IN YOUR MOM’S MIND IT IS!”The elevator ding echoes through the hallway.I freeze. Ethan freezes. The air freezes.Footsteps. Approaching footsteps. S

~ Hailey ~Let me be EXTREMELY clear:I did not make out with my boss in a supply closet.I did not kiss him, did not breathe romantically near him, did not even do anything illegal unless “existing within two inches of a drama-possessed CEO” counts as a crime.But guess what?The entire building — EVERY SINGLE FLOOR — believes that I was in there doing unspeakable things with Ethan Jang.And now HR wants to “talk.”Please. Someone unplug the WiFi router of my life.I barely make it back to my desk before a stampede forms.Literally. A stampede.Interns. Senior staff. People I’ve never seen in my life. Even the JANITOR is there.All staring at me like I’m the star of Fifty Shades of Corporate Policy Violation.One whispers:“Look at her… she has the post-confession glow.”SIR. I AM SWEATING FROM PANIC, NOT LOVE.Then another whispers:“Do you think he lifted her?”WHAT?? WHO IS ADDING FANFICTION TO THIS STORY?Then someone — A BRAVE, DELUSIONAL SOUL — asks:“So… was it passionate?”I

~ Hailey Park ~Let me start by clarifying something VERY important:I did NOT pack an overnight bag.I did NOT bring pajamas.I did NOT emotionally, mentally, or spiritually prepare myself for ANYTHING involving the words CEO and sleepover in the same sentence.But apparently the universe — AND ETHAN JANG — have zero respect for my boundaries, my brain cells, or my life plan of “not dying of romantic stupidity.”So here’s how my night begins:With Ethan Jang forcing me into his private car like some legally attractive kidnapper… AGAIN.Let’s rewind a few hours.After being caught by THE ENTIRE LEGAL TEAM in a rooftop near-kiss scenario that I absolutely did not sign up for, I do the only logical thing:I flee.I flee down the stairs.I flee past the conference room.I flee into the accounting department.I flee into the supply closet.Yes.The supply closet.The place where old toner cartridges go to die.I sit on the floor, hugging a box of staplers, evaluating every decision I’ve m

~ Hailey Park ~I’m pretty sure my soul briefly left my body and attempted to file an HR complaint against me.Because Ethan Jang—cold, ruthless, tax-audit-tempered CEO—was standing in front of me, touching my cheek, voice dripping with K-drama-level romantic danger, saying “Stay.”And my brain?My brain turned into mashed potatoes.Hot, confused mashed potatoes.I swallow. My throat squeaks. Why do I squeak so much around him? I sound like a mouse on helium.“You— you can’t just— just— just do this,” I whisper.He leans slightly closer. “I can.”“No you— YOU CAN’T—”“I can.”“SAYS WHO?!”“Says me.”I want to throw the toothbrush at his face. Preferably bristles first.“I have work,” I try.“You work for me.”“I need to go home!”“This is closer to the office.”“I NEED MY THINGS—”“I’ll buy you new things.”“ETHAN—”“Stay.”He says it again.Slower.Lower.Like he’s confessing in a rainy finale scene.The air shifts. Warm. Thick. Charged.He moves a tiny bit closer—just enough that my