TWISTED LOVE JEON JUNGKOOK X (READER) {Complete}

Jungkook

"It'll be over in a few months," I declared, leaning back in my chair and rolling my whiskey glass between my hands, captivated by the dance of dust mites in the shaft of light before me.

"Hmmm," uttered my uncle, stroking his jaw and fixing a sharp gaze on me through the screen. The guest room had become my home office, my preferred workspace on the days I dodged the office. Less tedious social exchanges that way. "You seem less than thrilled for someone who's been pursuing this since childhood."

"Thrill is overrated. What matters is the completion," I replied flatly.

Yet deep down, a twinge in my chest betrayed me, echoing my uncle's insight. I should be brimming with anticipation; revenge was within grasp. However, it left a bitter aftertaste rather than sweet triumph.

What lay beyond revenge's horizon? Every goal had dimmed beside this singular compulsion that had kept me intact amid inner turmoil, driven me forward even as I crumbled under the weight of guilt and dismay. This fixation crafted the very game where every painstaking move, year after year, led to this climactic moment—to dethrone the king.

The thought of losing this driving purpose unnerved me more than anything.

"Speaking of completion..." I said, placing my glass aside. "I trust you've finalized the Gruppmann transaction today?"

A smile crept onto Ivan’s face. "Congratulations. You edge ever closer to world domination."

Indeed, for JEON Group was mine in essence.

I financed its birth and fostered its growth. My father’s own construction enterprise—a successful venture—was set to be my inheritance until his passing led to its downfall before I could intervene. Yet from that legacy, I crafted an entity grander still.

All my parents yearned for was my happiness and success; if 'happy' was elusive, 'successful' would be attained through sheer determination.

Once our weekly consultation concluded, I fired up my burner laptop and accessed the encrypted files containing all pieces of intelligence—financial records, business transactions both above and beneath the law, forthcoming deals—all documenting my adversary’s empire. Piece by piece, I had eroded his domain with meticulous stealth; he perceived but a string of misfortune. Now one last shred of evidence stood between me and his utter defeat.

Staring into the glow of the screen as digits swam before me, envisaging that final move no longer stirred the zeal it once did.

At least I'd taken satisfaction in the fall of Jack. A few well-placed calls, and he'd been fired and blacklisted from every company that mattered in the northeastern United States. A few whispers in the right ears, and he'd landed on D.C. society's blacklist. Honestly, I'd just sped up his inevitable fall from grace—according to the information my people dug up, Jack had picked up a nasty drug habit and several DUIs since graduating. It was only a matter of time before he messed up at his job or angered the wrong people on his own. He was a man who had everything handed to him on a silver platter, and he squandered it for a temporary high. Excuse me while I shed tears over this decidedly nonexistent tragedy.

Then again, he had cheated on Y/N, which clearly demonstrated a lack of judgment.

My phone pinged with a social media notification. I have an aversion to social media, yet it's an unparalleled source of information. It's astonishing how much personal data people willingly divulge online without considering potential observers.

I tapped the notification to dismiss it but inadvertently opened the app instead, where a video of two people in an argument started playing automatically. I was about to close it when something caught my eye and I took a closer look.

FU©K!

I was out the door and on my way to Madeline's house before the video finished playing.
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