She looked tired. Older than her years. Her eyes were the same distant eyes I’d seen on the video calls.
“Mom,” she said again, her voice cracking. “You weren’t supposed to come.”
“I had to,” I said. “I had to know.”
She closed the door slowly and walked toward me. She sat down on the couch, and I sat beside her.
“I never wanted you to find out like this,” she said.
“Find out what?”
She was silent for a long moment. Then she said, “Kang Jun didn’t make that money. I did.”
I felt the world tilt.
“I started a business,” she continued. “A small one. It grew. He died—six years ago. A car accident. I never told you because I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to fly over and try to fix everything. I thought I could handle it alone.”
