.✦ ݁˖Two Wives, One House˙𐃷 jeon Jungkook

The faint hum of the air conditioner and the steady click of a Montblanc pen against a leather desk were the only sounds in Jungkook’s corner office on the forty-second floor. At thirty-five, he was a man at the absolute peak of his life—everything calculated, measured, and built to last. He had a career that demanded respect, a reputation for cold efficiency, and a life that functioned like a well-oiled machine. Above all else, he had his family: his thirty-three-year-old wife, Jiu, and their two children, eight-year-old Yena and six-year-old Chan. They were his entire world, the solid foundation beneath his ambition. His life’s blueprint was complete, signed, and settled. Or so he believed, until his phone buzzed across the glass desk. His father’s secretary. Come home immediately. Your father is waiting in his study. Leaving a stack of unsigned contracts on his desk, Jungkook drove straight to their ancestral estate on the outskirts of the city. The massive iron gates swung open in silence, the tall stone pillars casting long shadows across the driveway. Walking into his father's house always felt like stepping into an older, harsher world—a place ruled by tradition, pride, and unwavering authority. Jungkook pushed open the heavy oak doors of the study. The room smelled of old leather, cigar smoke, and antique paper. His father sat behind the wide mahogany desk, his face aged with a dark, heavy grief. "Sit, Jungkook," the older man commanded, his voice raspy. Jungkook remained standing near the fireplace, unbuttoning his suit jacket. "What happened? Secretarial staff said it was urgent." "Min-jun is dead," his father said bluntly. "A car accident last night. His car went off the embankment during the storm. He died on impact." Jungkook went still. Min-jun was his father’s oldest, most loyal friend—a man who had saved their family business decades ago during a ruinous betrayal. "I see. I’ll make sure the firm handles the funeral arrangements." "That is not why I called you here," his father interrupted, leaning forward, resting his weathered hands on the desk. "Min-jun left behind a daughter. She is twenty-two years old, Jungkook. Completely alone. No mother, no siblings, no relatives to take her in. She has nothing, and creditors are already circling what little remains of her father's name." Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Then we set up a trust fund. We cover her expenses, find her an apartment, and ensure she finishes her education. That is more than enough to satisfy the debt." "A trust fund?" His father’s voice cracked with sudden rage, slamming his palm against the mahogany wood. "Min-jun bled for this family! A check won't protect a young girl with no standing from the wolves in our social circle. Money is not protection. Family is protection." A cold pit settled in Jungkook’s stomach. "What are you saying?" His father stood up slowly, looking his son dead in the eye. "She has no one left. You will protect her. You will bring her into our home. You will marry her." For a long moment, the study fell into a deafening silence. Jungkook stared at his father, a sharp laugh escaping his lips—harsh and entirely devoid of warmth. "You're out of your mind," Jungkook said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register. "I have a wife. I have a family. Jiu and I have built our lives together for over a decade. I have two young children who need a normal home, not a scandal. I am never going to marry a girl who is practically a stranger. Absolutely not." "You will do as you are told!" his father thundered, stepping around the desk. "My word to Min-jun was an oath made before you were even born! You think your reputation matters more than my honor? You think your pride is worth more than a lifelong debt? If you refuse, I will strip you of your position at the firm, remove your name from the family trust, and disown you before the week ends. Do not test me, Jungkook." Jungkook clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, his jaw tightening so hard a vein throbbed along his temple. He looked at his father—a man who had never bluffed a day in his life. Refusing meant losing the empire he had worked his entire adult life to build, leaving Jiu and the children with nothing. Bound by duty and cornered by his father's ultimatum, he had no choice. "She will stay in the West Wing," Jungkook said through gritted teeth, his voice ice-cold. "She will have her own space. She will stay out of my family's way." His father looked at him with dark, unyielding eyes. "The ink will be on the marriage certificate by tomorrow." Driving back to his own estate, Jungkook felt the weight of the world crushing down on his chest. Every sharp turn of the steering wheel felt like a betrayal. When he stepped through the grand double doors of his home, Jiu was waiting in the main foyer. She had already sensed the shift in the air, her usual calm demeanor cracked with anxiety. "Jungkook? What happened at your father's?" she asked, her voice tight as she approached him. "He looked so agitated on the call earlier." Jungkook took a deep breath, reaching out to gently take her hands, but the tension in his face betrayed him. "Jiu... sit down with me." As he laid out the raw, unvarnished truth, the color drained completely from Jiu’s face. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks in hot, desperate streaks. She pulled her hands away, trembling violently. "No... no, Jungkook, please tell me this is a sick joke!" Jiu sobbed, clutching at his shirt lapels. "We’ve been together since university! I gave you my youth, my entire heart! We built this family together! How can you ask me to share my husband? How can you bring another woman into our house?" "Listen to me, Jiu," Jungkook urged, his hands coming up to frame her tear-stained face, his own voice cracking with emotion. "I don't love her. I don't even know her. My father threatened to strip everything away from us—my title, my inheritance, the company, everything meant for our children. If I don't do this, we lose it all." Jiu wept openly against his chest, her shoulders shaking with agonizing sobs. "I can't do this, Jungkook... I can't look at her." "You won't have to," Jungkook swore, his eyes fierce with a dark, desperate promise. "I promise you, Jiu, on my life, on our children's lives—I will never touch her. She will mean nothing to me. She will be confined to the West Wing of this house, completely isolated. You are my only wife. You are the only woman in my heart, in my bed, and in this family." Jiu looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with heartbreak and anger, but seeing the desperate sincerity in his gaze, she slowly nodded, leaning her forehead against his chest as she cried herself to exhaustion. The very next day, the quiet, lifeless ceremony took place. There were no flowers, no lavish decorations, no soft music—only official documents laid out on a mahogany table, waiting for ink. The legal papers were signed in solemn, heavy silence. Just like that, the contract was sealed. When the car pulled up to the Jungkook estate that evening, Jungkook stepped out first, not even bothering to hold the door open for you. He didn't look back as he walked up the grand stone steps, leaving you to carry the bitter grief of your father's death and the terrifying reality of your new existence. The moment you stepped into the high-ceilinged foyer, Jungkook turned to the head housekeeper waiting in the hall. His expression was flat, detached, and devoid of warmth. "Take her to the West Wing," Jungkook commanded in a cold, dismissive tone. "Her room is prepared there. Make sure she understands she is to stay in that section of the house. She is not to wander into the main living quarters or disturb my family." Without another word, or even a single glance in your direction, Jungkook turned on his heel and walked up the grand staircase toward the Master Suite. That night, Jungkook sought solace in the only way he knew how—by proving his devotion to his first wife. He entered their bedroom where Jiu waited, still hurt and distant. He took her into his arms, kissing her with an intense, almost desperate passion to erase the nightmare of the day. All through the night, he held her, loved her, and made love to her continuously, reaffirming every promise he had made to her in the dark. He poured every ounce of his energy into reassuring Jiu that she was the only woman who possessed his soul, leaving no room in his mind for the orphaned stranger sleeping alone in the dark, cold West Wing. The following morning, the tension inside the estate was palpable. The family was gathered at the long mahogany table in the formal dining room for breakfast. Morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across the polished floor. Yena and Chan sat quietly near the end of the table, picking at their food, thoroughly confused by the sudden change in household dynamics and the quiet presence of a stranger who had been brought in overnight. Jiu sat near the head of the table, her posture immaculate, wearing a pristine silk dress. She had reclaimed her confidence, her eyes glowing with the quiet, triumphant satisfaction of a woman who knew her husband's heart was entirely hers. As you entered the dining room, Jiu lowered her tablet slowly. Her sharp gaze traced your figure from head to toe, taking in every detail with practiced, ice-cold disdain. "Jungkook mentioned you’d be staying in the West Wing," Jiu said, her voice smooth as silk but twice as cold. Jungkook sat opposite her, staring down into his black coffee. He didn't lift his eyes to meet yours, offering no protection, his face an unreadable mask of stoic detachment as if you were invisible. "I’ve instructed the staff to bring you some new clothes later today," Jiu continued, offering a tight, mirthless smile that failed to reach her eyes. "We can’t have the 'second Mrs. Jungkook' walking around looking like a college student trying to crash our home. It’s terrible for the family image. Know your place here, and stay out of our way."