✓ GREEDY HEARTS | JAY

38 - Unravel Me

JAY'S POV 

My brain hums with memories I'm not able to fully grasp. Memories that I have no control over, memories that have been hidden from me for so long. The revelation about the daughter of the people who lost their lives in that accident hits me like a fucking punch to the gut. I can't remember her. In fact, I can't remember anything apart from the accident and the aftermath of that fateful night. It's as if someone selectively wiped certain chapters of my life from my memory, leaving behind only fragments that torment me.

"Jay," Jungwon's voice makes me look up from my desk and meet his concerned gaze. I decided to come to work so nothing goes out of control because I can't trust anyone else to handle the business. But the investigation? Jungwon is more than capable of that. "I have the data of everyone who worked for your father for the last two decades. Whoever you're looking for must be in there somewhere." 

The moment my mother called my name and the recognition flashed in her eyes was enough to make me realize that everything she told me about wasn't just a product of her fading memory. There's a truth there, buried beneath the lies and manipulations. 

My shoulder still aches from the wound. I wince as I shift in my chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Any news about my father?" I take the USB drive containing the data from Jungwon, plugging it into my computer. The screen flickers to life, revealing the names of those who crossed my father's path and worked for him. I scroll through the list of names on the screen, my eyes scanning the dates. I still remember the date of the accident, for some reason, so I focus on that period, hoping it might lead me to answers.

"No updates. He's still off the grid." Jungwon's words make me look up at him. It's fishy, too fishy, how he seems to have vanished into thin air all of a sudden. He's not back in Seattle because if he did, I would have been informed. So just where the hell is he hiding? The frustration builds within me, but I push it aside, redirecting my focus to the screen. "But I found out about something that you should know. Your father and Choi Minho's father were good friends, it seems. When I looked into their history, they used to share business interests, particularly around the time of the accident. But then their relationship soured. There was a falling out, and they went their separate ways," Jungwon continues, his eyes scanning the documents in his hands. "Until Choi Minho's father passed away. A cardiac arrest, but it's suspiciously sudden. No prior health issues, no warning signs. It happened right after their falling out."

My eyes narrow as I absorb this new piece of information like a sponge. "Choi Minho's father..." I mutter, the realization sinking in. "Their connection runs deeper than just business. It's personal. That explains why Minho is so keen on seeing me fall." This is much more complicated than I thought it was, and I can't help but wonder what other layers of deception and betrayal might still be hidden. I can't help but wonder if it wasn't Minho the enemy all along, if my father is the puppet master pulling the strings behind the scenes. "How about Y/N?"

"She hadn't left her apartment. I think she's aware of our men watching her." I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples. The pieces of this twisted puzzle are slowly falling into place, but there are still gaps that need to be filled. It's not like Y/N not to make a move. She's either willing to go back to Minho or there's someone she's willing to work for. Either way, it's suspicious and my gut feeling tells me everything is related to my father. I just don't know how. 

"Inform my driver that I'll be heading to the hospital right now. My mother must remember the names of those two people if I just give her some context. And, Jungwon, keep an eye on my father. I have a feeling he's not as disconnected from all this as he pretends to be." He nods, already reaching for his phone to relay the message to the driver, and I quickly take some painkillers before heading out. The dull throb in my shoulder protests with every step, but I ignore it. There are more important matters at hand.

As I make my way to the hospital, I keep on trying to remember just who the girl from my childhood is. But nothing comes to mind, and it frustrates me. It's impossible to just forget about a big part of your life, but it seems that's exactly what happened to me. The memories are like fragments of a shattered mirror, scattered and distorted. I can only hope that my mother's recollections will help piece them back together. Though, the fact that all I can't remember is that time is highly suspicious. Is it selective memory loss, or was there a deliberate effort to erase specific events from my mind? The unanswered questions linger as I arrive at the hospital.

Entering my mother's room, I find her lying on her bed while Y/N's sister reads a book as she sits on her bed. Upon stepping inside their room, she looks up and her tired eyes meet mine. "Did my sister come with you?" The question makes me clench my jaw and I shake my head. The disappointment in her eyes is evident and I feel guilty even though I wasn't the one to bring her into this dangerous world of mine. But what's more human than inflicting pain on ourselves for the sake of others? I take a deep breath, pushing aside the guilt for now.

"She will visit soon. Don't worry." When I turn to look at my mother, she has this soft smile on her face, as if she's trying to comfort me. It's both heartwarming and heartbreaking, and yet, somehow, it gives me the strength to continue. "Mom, I need you to remember something important," I say, sitting down beside her and taking her frail hand in mine. "The people who used to work for us, those who lost their lives that night. Look at these names and tell me if you can remember anything about them." I hand her my phone with the names and details of the people who were connected to our family at that time, and she squints at the list, her brow furrowed in concentration. I don't believe in Gods, not when I've seen the darkness that resides in the hearts of men, but in this moment, I find myself silently praying that my mother will be able to provide the missing pieces to this puzzle that has haunted me for so long.

She studies the names on the screen for what feels like an eternity. Her eyes trace each entry, and I can see the effort it takes for her to recall anything. I hate forcing her to remember the tragedy that unfolded that night, but it seems like the only way. "Jay..." My mother's voice is a whisper, and her eyes well up with tears. "The Baeks. Baek Jinwoo and his wife, Eunji."

"The Baeks?" I repeat their last name, committing it to memory when Yejin lets out a gasp, making us both turn our attention to her. She's looking at me with her eyes wide open and filled with horror as if I just revealed something unimaginable. I wonder what a little girl like her could possibly understand about this. "My... parents?" She stammers, her hands shaking as she clutches the book tightly, and all I do is stand there, almost paralyzed by the sudden revelation.

Baek Jinwoo and Eunji—those were the names I had been searching for. The missing pieces of my past finally fall into place, but the picture they form is far darker than I could have ever imagined. "Do you remember them?" My voice is calm, but inside, a storm rages. I never expected this, never fathomed that the people my father murdered were Baek Yejin's parents. Baek Y/N's parents too.  

"Y/N had their pictures in her house." At her words, I grab my phone from my mother's hands and find the two photos of those two people. And when I show them to Yejin, I hate how the recognition dawns on her innocent face. The horror inside of me deepens and my heart twists in agony. I refuse to believe what's unraveling right in front of my eyes. I refuse to even think of the possibility of Y/N being the same girl my mother told me about. 

But just because I refuse to acknowledge the possibility doesn't mean it's not the harsh reality staring me in the face. I find myself hoping against hope that there's some mistake, that the world isn't as cruel as it seems right now. But the blood on my hands is undeniable, a stain that won't be washed away by time or ignorance.