Chapter 107
From last night, when the broadcast aired, until this evening, my phone hadn't stopped buzzing. Not just the relatives I'd given my number to, but college alumni and classmates I rarely spoke with, training institute buddies, even old elementary, middle, and high school friends.
I couldn't pick up every call, but I fired off quick text replies. Ignoring them now might spark unnecessary gossip down the line.
"Lawyer, you looked great on screen!"
And the biggest fuss, predictably, came from Kang Minjae. He kept dipping into the broadcast site whenever he had a moment, replaying my segments over and over.
"Weren't you nervous? Is Anchor Jin Hye-kyung really that pretty in person? How was the station? Did they do your makeup and all that?"
"I told you already."
"...Oh, right."
"Stop watching and get back to work."
Kang Minjae ignored my scolding and kept hunting for online articles. I'd checked public opinion sporadically from right after the news until morning too. I'd expected backlash against Ko Jin-ah once the interview dropped, but sentiment could veer off unpredictably. No matter how well-prepared my answers, there were always gaps—and I needed to ensure nothing clashed with the public mood.
Fortunately, netizens zeroed in on Ko Jin-ah's misdeeds, just as anticipated. Like our initial shock when we first uncovered her role, they were floored. Her image as the "tragic princess betrayed by a commoner lover" shattered into "psycho bitch" overnight.
Yangjin Group's stock plummeted across the board, with the sharpest drop in Yangjin F&B—the division Ko Jin-ah helmed. Some who had viciously attacked Jeong Yeong-jun even posted apologies, saying they felt bad for him now.
Of course, that didn't erase his undeserved suffering.
"Haha, they say you're handsome, Lawyer. People are losing it. One even said if they get in trouble, they'll come to our firm for a consult just to see your face."
Kang Minjae teased me, spotlighting comments I'd overlooked. Praise was nice, but irrelevant flattery meant little. If I was earning acclaim, I'd rather it be for skill than looks—good looks weren't a must-have for legal pros anyway.
...Though, come to think of it, they might help with client acquisition.
"Isn't Jeong Yeong-jun due soon?"
Now that his innocence was public, Jeong Yeong-jun could go out alone. Kang Minjae offered to pick him up, but he flatly refused, insisting he couldn't treat his lawyer like a chauffeur anymore. His social anxiety stemmed from that "national pervert" label, so with it gone, he'd mustered the courage to venture out solo.
Still, I worried reporters might hound him.
He brushed off the concern, but anyway.
"He texted about an hour ago saying he'd be late. Hope no reporters are tailing him."
"We told him not to say a word to them unless it's through us, so it should be fine."
Besides, sympathy for Jeong Yeong-jun was surging. Invading his privacy now would ignite a firestorm of backlash.
"Oh, and it just hit me—after you said on the broadcast that Jeong Yeong-jun's firm on the divorce, they rushed to drop the suit. Ugh, annoying."
This morning, Taegwang contacted us about withdrawing the divorce petition. Having confirmed our side wanted out, they suggested hashing out a peaceful resolution.
Peaceful? What a joke.
Even if it went amicable, I planned to squeeze every last won from Ko Jin-ah. No warlike courtroom drama, but still.
Of course, discussions couldn't start until the prosecution nailed her indictment. That would dictate our damages claim.
Reports said she'd endured intense questioning from 3 p.m. yesterday to 2 a.m. today before release. And that morning, a headline matched my prediction exactly.
I never expected a clean confession. She'd likely denied the affair with Jo Hyun-seok too.
On News 9, I'd only mentioned the couple bag. She wouldn't have known about it as evidence when she showed up at the prosecutor's office. Even if they shoved it in her face, she'd probably brazened it out.
"Ko Jin-ah will keep denying until ironclad proof drops, right?"
I nodded.
"Her only semi-plausible escape now is claiming she filmed it as evidence after learning Jeong Yeong-jun cheated and demanded divorce."
"But the black box caught her dragging an unconscious Jeong Yeong-jun. Will that fly?"
"Pin it on Jo Hyun-seok. Or say she got a tip that drugged-up Jeong Yeong-jun was about to cheat, so she rushed over to check."
"That residence is in Ko Jin-ah's grandma's name. Think that'll hold?"
"Claim it was a shared space from the start? Accuse Jeong Yeong-jun of cheating shamelessly in his wife's own place."
"..."
"Without proof of their affair, it's tough to prove she orchestrated it to smear him. Her 'gathering adultery evidence' story starts looking less absurd."
Kang Minjae stared at me gravely.
"...What if they pull that? Could Ko Jin-ah walk?"
I stood.
"No."
"Huh? Why not? Prosecutors might buy it, just like you said. Jo Hyun-seok could take the full fall."
"A senior prosecutor called earlier. They found Jo Hyun-seok's burner phone in that residence. By morning, they'd uncovered flirty texts on it."
Kang Minjae gaped, dumbfounded.
"Oh, and he recorded their calls plotting the video. Guess he feared getting fully hung out to dry."
Pros who clean up for the elite always stash insurance like this. Big promises upfront, then denials and dodges once the job's done. No payout after the risk? Nothing more infuriating.
That's how high-society scandals unravel—hunting those leverage tools first.
Jo Hyun-seok had weathered one search in the Jinhmo Gate scandal, coming up empty, stalling the probe. But this burner from an unexpected spot? Breakthrough incoming.
Even if not, no sweat. They were having an affair, but Jo's feelings for Ko seemed shallower than Jeong's. Hoarding evidence meant self-preservation over loyalty—no sacrificial heroics.
Same for Ko Jin-ah, who'd tried pinning it all on him. Distrust bred the prisoner's dilemma. We could leverage it for confessions.
"See? Perfect."
"...Why tell me now? We didn't need to worry!"
"Just came up. Now you know."
"No way! You got me all hyped, then scared me with an out, then yanked it. Jerk!"
Kang Minjae fumed, indignant.
"Text Jeong Yeong-jun. See where he is."
"He said another hour! Geez!"
He yelled back.
Couldn't be helped. Lawyers on big cases stay on edge until the gavel falls. Routine verdicts go sideways under spotlight pressure, let alone against Yangjin's sole heiress.
That's why I obsessed over airtight evidence.
For Kim Yeonjun's innocence, I unearthed Kim Hyeongjun's crime scene video.
To prove Jeong Hyejin's plagiarism intent with Na Eun-seong's manuscript, I raided the printer.
For Lee Hyeokmin's bullying testimony against Park Jincheol, I exposed his grade fraud.
Circumstantial wins were possible in drawn-out trials, but I clawed for hard proof anyway—minimizing variables.
This time, for Jeong Yeong-jun's vindication, I'd secured Ko Jin-ah and Jo Hyun-seok's affair evidence.
It was my safeguard against worry, sharpening prediction accuracy. I'd amped the speed of Ko Jin-ah's own boomerang.
Now, all that remained was watching how she'd handle its return.