Chapter 3: The Banquet of Thorns
The Varma family estate was a sprawling complex of teak and marble, illuminated tonight by thousands of fairy lights for the "Pre-Merger Dinner." To the elite of Bangkok, it was a display of opulence. To Pakpao, it was the scene of the crime.
As she stepped through the heavy oak doors, her eyes immediately found Sunee. Her stepmother was dressed in deep emerald, holding court near a fountain. Sunee's eyes scanned the room with the predatory precision of a hawk, searching for any threat to her newly built kingdom.
"Ah, Paul! You're just in time," Sunee called out, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "I was just telling the Minister how your firm has been our guardian angel."
"I prefer to think of myself as an auditor, Khun Sunee," Pakpao replied, her smile not reaching her eyes. "I only protect what is worth saving."
Sunee's eyes flickered—a momentary lapse in her composure—as if she heard a ghost of a tone she recognized. But before she could probe further, Rin arrived.
Under the Table
Dinner was served on a long, mahogany table. Pakpao was seated directly across from Rin, while Kitt sat to Rin's right, his hand resting heavy and frequent on her shoulder.
"The wedding is only a month away," Kitt announced, raising a glass. "To the union of two great legacies."
Pakpao took a slow sip of her wine, the liquid tasting like iron. Across the table, Rin's expression was a masterpiece of bored elegance, but her eyes were locked on Pakpao's.
Under the tablecloth, Pakpao felt a sudden, soft pressure.
Rin had slipped her foot out of her silk heel. Her toes grazed the bridge of Pakpao's leather boot, a hidden, electric communication in a room full of enemies. Pakpao nearly choked on her wine. She looked at Rin, whose face remained perfectly calm as she spoke to the Minister's wife about charity foundations.
The "slow burn" was no longer just a feeling; it was a physical provocation.
Pakpao shifted her leg, not pulling away, but leaning into the contact. It was a dangerous game of chicken. If Kitt looked down, or if Sunee noticed the tension in Pakpao's shoulders, the house of cards would collapse.
The Garden of Secrets
"The heat in here is stifling," Rin said suddenly, setting her napkin down. "Paul, you mentioned you wanted to see the architectural plans for the new wing? Perhaps we could discuss them in the garden where it's cooler."
Kitt frowned. "Darling, I should come with you—"
"No, Kitt," Rin said with a sharp, sweet edge. "Stay and finish your cognac with the Minister. This is boring business talk. I'll bring him back in ten minutes."
The garden was a labyrinth of shadows and the heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine. Once they were out of sight of the windows, Pakpao grabbed Rin's arm, pulling her behind a large stone Buddha statue.
"Are you insane?" Pakpao hissed, though her grip was more protective than angry. "Sunee is a snake. She watches everything."
"She watches for threats, not for desire," Rin whispered, stepping into Pakpao's personal space. The moon caught the curve of her collarbone. "She thinks you're a cold machine, Paul. She doesn't think you're capable of wanting me."
"I am a machine," Pakpao gritted out, her heart hammering against her ribs. "A machine designed to ruin your fiancé."
"Then ruin him," Rin challenged. She reached up, her fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of Pakpao's neck, pulling her down just an inch. "But don't lie to me. Not when we're the only two people in that house who aren't faking."
Pakpao's resolve crumbled. She leaned her forehead against Rin's, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. The Masc lead's hands, usually so steady with a pen or a plan, trembled slightly as they rested on Rin's waist.
"If I lose my focus, we both lose," Pakpao murmured.
"Then let's find a new focus," Rin replied.
The Poisoned Gift
The moment was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. They stepped apart just as Kitt's assistant appeared.
"Khun Paul, Khun Sunee requests your presence back inside. She has a... 'surprise' for the guests."
Back in the dining room, the atmosphere had shifted. Sunee was standing by a projector screen.
"As we celebrate the future," Sunee said, her eyes fixed directly on Pakpao, "I found some old archives of the Varma estate. I thought it would be lovely to show our new partners the 'troubles' we've overcome."
The screen flickered to life. It was a grainy security video from ten years ago. It showed a young, short-haired Pakpao standing in her father's office, looking at a safe.
It was the footage they had doctored to frame her.
"This," Sunee said, her voice echoing in the silent room, "is why we value loyalty above all else. This girl—my husband's first child—tried to destroy us. We had to cut the rot out."
Pakpao stood frozen. Her past was being paraded in front of her as a warning. Sunee was testing her, looking for a reaction, wondering if "Paul" would flinch at the sight of her own ghost.
Beside her, she felt Rin's hand find hers under the table. This time, it wasn't a tease. It was a squeeze of pure, solid support.
Pakpao didn't flinch. She looked at the screen, then looked Sunee dead in the eye, and smiled. "A fascinating story, Khun Sunee. But usually, when you cut out 'rot,' you should make sure you got the roots. Otherwise... it just grows back stronger, doesn't it?"
The silence in the room was deafening. The war was no longer cold.