Friday night, February 24.

Han Serin's taxi crawled through Lower Manhattan's Financial District and slowed in front of a building.

Looking out the window, she raised an eyebrow.

"This is the place, but……."

She checked the address on her phone screen against the building outside the window.

The H.R TOWER.

This was the place in the text she'd gotten a few days ago from Ha Tae-ung, the man from the plane.

She'd told him to invite her if he threw a party in New York, and he really had gotten in touch.

Much sooner than she'd expected, too.

He'd said there was a party, but he hadn't mentioned any particular dress code.

He'd only said it was something like a Korean housewarming.

Going too formal would look silly, but she couldn't exactly show up in jeans either.

In the end, she went with the safest choice, the one least likely to go wrong.

A dark navy tailored jacket over an ivory silk blouse, with black slacks that cleanly defined her waistline.

Small, delicate diamond studs in her ears, and in her hand a black clutch with the logo barely showing.

Not too flashy, but not as stiff as a business meeting either.

The outfit was polished enough that she could have walked straight into any of the cocktail receptions and dinners she'd attended by the dozen on Wall Street.

But now that she'd actually arrived at the building, she wondered if she'd taken this too lightly.

"He said it was a housewarming……."

The scene outside the taxi window was far busier than she'd imagined.

Black sedans and SUVs were lined up and stopping in the lane in front of the building, and some of them drove straight down into the underground garage.

As drivers opened doors, well-dressed people stepped out one after another and went into the building.

She'd thought it was just crowded because of the party, but the moment she recognized a few of the faces, she changed her mind.

Han Serin's eyes stopped on one man.

Huh?

It was a face she'd seen many times in photos…