TOMORROW | Changbin

08||Secret for a secret

My head felt like a hornet's nest had taken up residence inside it. These damn files were multiplying like roaches on garbage night, and half of them looked like they'd been written by a toddler with a crayon stuck up their nose. And the other half? Probably drafted by a sloth high on expired cough syrup, judging by the drool stains. Juggling projects was giving me a migraine that rivaled a heavy metal concert next door.

As if that wasn't enough torture, my ex wouldn't vacate my brain. Stuck there like a psychic leech, feeding on my misery. She had decided to take up permanent residence in my brain, replaying her laugh on a loop like some sadistic mental jukebox. Years later, her laugh still echoed in my head like a taunt. Close my eyes, there she is. Open them, and reality slaps me like a wet fish.

This was a migraine waiting to happen.

With a groan that could wake the dead, I slammed my forehead onto the desk. Sleep? A distant memory. Work? A chaotic nightmare. I dragged my bleary eyes to my watch, the numbers blurring like a bad dream. Where the hell was Minho? The guy was never late and never missed a beat. I needed those SFT files and needed them yesterday.

The office door creaked open, and a face poked its head in, a nervous smile plastered on. He shuffled in, a stack of files clutched to his chest like a life raft.

"Finally," I growled, forcing my eyes open. "Minho, where have you been? I asked you for the SFT files hours ago."

The newbie blinked, his smile faltering. "Uh, sir," he stammered, eyes darting around the room like a trapped mouse, "I, uh... I just started today. Don't know any Minho."

Of course, he didn't. Why would he? I rubbed my temples, trying to massage away the throbbing behind my eyes. "Right," I muttered, waving him dismissively.

Needing an outlet for my frustration, I barked Chan's name. In less than a heartbeat, he stood before me, looking sheepish.

"Chan," I growled, the words scraping out of my throat like sandpaper. "Where's Minho?"

Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You don't know?" He exchanged a hesitant glance with someone outside the door.

"Know what?" I snapped. What else could there possibly be?

Chan shuffled his feet and averted his gaze. "Look," he mumbled, finally looking at me. "Your dad... He transferred Minho out of marketing this morning. Apparently, he's in Software now."

What. The. Actual. Hell.

I bolted upright from my chair, sending it scraping back with a screech. "What?! When did this happen?"

Chan flinched at my outburst, practically cowering under my glare."Your dad sent an email. Minho's stuff was all moved over this morning."

"This meddling, power-hungry old bastard!" I roared, balling my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white. "This is my company, not his personal playpen! He doesn't get to just shove people around like chess pieces!"

"Changbin, cool down," Chan pleaded, but his voice was lost in the storm of fury raging inside me. "I'm sure we can figure something out—"

"No, we can't!" I bellowed, cutting him off. "Minho had those files, he was in charge of the whole damn Endora Windshell project! He can't just be yanked away like that!"

I grabbed my coat, shoving it on as I marched towards the door."I'm getting my friend back," I snarled, ignoring Chan's desperate pleas to stop me. "There's no way in hell I'm letting my old man get away with this!"

The elevator doors chimed, and I practically shoved my way inside. Hitting the button for the lobby, I fumed, my anger a roiling inferno threatening to consume me. "He'll damn well regret this," I muttered through gritted teeth. "Minho's coming back to marketing, even if I have to drag him back myself."