Page 86 of K-Pop Double Life

They both followed me to the conference room, where Liam had already set up his laptop. “We have a suspect.”

“Who?” Eun-ji asked.

“Vanta manager Sara Yoon.”

For a second neither of them moved. Then Eun-ji said flatly, “No. No,” she repeated, sharper this time. “I know her.”

“Knowing someone and knowing what they do under pressure aren’t the same thing,” Liam said. “As far as we can tell, she started embezzling money from Starhouse soon after she was hired, by using shell companies. Once the corporate audit was announced, she knew she had a limited time to get out.”

“That audit was announced a month before our tour began in Cannes,” Eun-ji said.

I leaned forward. “If she simply disappears, the audit reveals what she stole and Starhouse comes after her. Causing corporate chaos would delay the audit. While Starhouse is dealing with the fallout for whatever she accomplishes on this tour, she can disappear and use the time to move her money around so it can’t be found.”

Liam tapped the authorization trail. “We can track her paying the fireworks guy in Cannes and Sophie Tran the photographer. Richard found the Instagram post regarding the Madison Square Garden loading dock, and connected it to an influencer who has posted a lot of content about Sara’s group, Vanta.”

I added, “That same influencer posted about the Genesis House dinner, where that one crazy fan broke in. We can’t prove the connection, but it’s there.”

Eun-ji’s face had gone from disbelief to something colder by the time Liam finished. “If you’re right,” she said, “she’s been using Starhouse money to attack our own artists. She sat in on every corporate meeting. She knows everything we have planned.”

Jason sat back, his eyes narrowed. “If this is true,” he said, “she has access to far more than budgets.”

“Walk us through it,” Liam said.

“Tour schedules. Credential requests. Vendor approvals. Local staffing recommendations.” His face hardened. “Transport manifests.”

Eun-ji swore under her breath in Korean. “She approved portions of São Paulo logistics before we left Seoul.”

“Meaning what?” I asked.

“Meaning if she wanted unauthorized personnel inside our perimeter, she had opportunities.”

That put a whole new shape on the threat. I glanced at the secure alert still sitting in the corner of Liam’s screen and turned the laptop back toward them.

“One more thing.”

Eun-ji read the flagged post aloud. “This will be a performance they’ll never forget.”

A calculating silence settled over the compartment.

Jason was first to break it. “We cancel.”

Eun-ji whipped toward him. “Absolutely not.”

“If she has active assets in São Paulo⁠—”

“Forty-three thousand tickets sold. International press. Contract penalties. Insurance exposure. How could we handle fan containment outside the venue if we announce a cancellation with no explanation?”

“Better angry fans than dead artists.”

From the cabin behind us came a burst of laughter. Woo, probably, reacting to something Min-kyu had said.

The sound vanished almost as quickly as it came.

Eun-ji lowered her voice. “You think I don’t understand the stakes?”

“I think sentiment gets people killed,” Jason said.

Her expression went glacial. “These are my artists.”