Son compartido

No one had said that to him in eleven years. Three hours later, when the procedure was finished and Seo-hyun was breathing steadily in a private recovery suite, Seo-jun sat in a waiting room and discovered he had been doing something he didn't recognize for the last forty minutes. He had been waiting. Voluntarily. Because the alternative was to go home and not know. By morning he had purchased the hospital. It was a routine transaction—seven figures, some signatures, a shell entity dissolved and