Out came the elevator doors, hitting with a hush that vanished fast—sound crashed in before feet even touched tile. Instead of a quiet entrance, there stood a roar, thick and sharp, waiting inside the high ceilings of Rattana Grand Tower. Marble walls echoed not with footsteps but bursts of light, each flash snapping like a spark across stone. Cameras swarmed near red ropes, bodies pressed close, eyes locked ahead. Voices cut through the air, one after another, none asking—they demanded, rushed, and poked. We barely moved, and already everything felt exposed.
"Khun Phakin, is this marriage a corporate strategy?"
"Who is she?"
"Miss Vongviphan, is it true your father's company collapsed financially?"
"How long have you been together?"
That story of my father hit me the hardest. Air caught in my chest, stuck there. A misstep came, unplanned, when balance slipped sideways. Reaching out, knuckles brushed Phakin's fabric—held fast, maybe too much so—as fear climbed up from deep inside, sharp and sour. Shaking showed clearly through my skin; everyone must have seen it. Open. Watched. Pulled bare under eyes that missed nothing.
His arm moved then. My hand rested on his bicep when his closed over it—solid, holding. Warmth poured through his skin into mine, grounding me even if I resisted. Not a glance came my way. Silence stayed between us. Just that quiet demand: draw breath. Hold yourself together.
His voice stayed low, close to silence. Look at them, Lalin. Show teeth or vanish—your choice when the lenses roll. Face forward. Let the world catch either the crown or the crack.
Breath pulled deep. Head rose slowly. The face shaped itself quite openly, almost dazedly, like he was someone cherished, not someone holding chains. Beneath the skin, nerves snapped tight, wild energy coiled; even so, the mask stayed firm. Role claimed body. It fit like a second skin.
Chaos swirled, yet Phakin stayed calm. Like a statue in tailored cloth, his suit held its ground. The air bent slightly whenever he spoke. Leaning in, reporters waited—stillness was his reply. Pride wore him more than fabric. A figure led me forward, toward the middle platform; guards formed a tight wall around us instead. Light bursts cut through the smooth floor, leaving spots burned into my memory. That brightness took hold without warning.
A silence cracked through the space, thin as old glass. His stillness made the walls listen.
"I will be brief," he said at last. "Cool, clear," his voice reached the back rows. "There has been speculation regarding recent developments at Vongviphan Architecture and my personal affairs. I am here to address both."
At that moment, he shifted toward me—measured, unhurried—with every eye present. Not a word, just his arm lifting, brushing a loose piece of hair back behind my ear, arranged like closeness. A silence dropped across the space. My skin responded before thought did, warming under his fingertips. Just an instant, yet everything shrank to the angle of his face and the quiet trick he carried so well.
"Lalin Vongviphan is no longer a business associate," he announced, softening just enough to seem genuine. "She is my wife. We were married in a private ceremony last night."
The room cracked open. Shouts tangled midair. Light burst again and again. Sound pulled me under. My knees wavered; the world dimmed at its corners till his palm found my lower back, holding me upright like it already knew how.
"Why the secrecy?" someone shouted.
Phakin's eyes never left mine. "When something is rare," he said quietly, "you don't leave it exposed. You protect it."
Fire climbed up my throat. Could those words mean something tender? Maybe—not quite sure. His eyes stayed on me, locked, like I was more than just payment due. Like we weren't bound by wounds and owed coins piling high.
He turned back to the press, and his tone sharpened. "The financial matters involving my wife's family have been resolved under Rattana Group oversight. Any further inquiry into her past will be considered a direct affront to my firm."
A heavy silence followed. Not caring drove him—possession did.
With a gesture, he lifted his hand, and then silence fell as he ended the impromptu meeting before anyone could speak. He guided me from the stage, touch lingering like a weight. Fingers pressed into my spine, holding firm. It was then that my eyes caught sight of him.
Back among the tangled wires and gear, Kit Sirichai lingered, partly out of sight. Our gazes locked—his grin arrived slowly, like a chill you didn't shrug off. Amusement curled there, but nothing more.
Out of nowhere, a new figure cut the thick silence. Before thoughts formed, this stranger stood between us.
"Phakin!"
Fury drove her steps, wild and without regret. Sharp she looked, startlingly so—as if born knowing how others should bend. My direction held her stare, hate spilling out so thick I felt it crawl across my arms. That gaze didn't waver, burning like a spark caught mid-flight.
Quiet now, his voice a murmur laced with caution—Phakin spoke her name like a signal meant only for Araya.
A cold weight settled in his chest. She was the one who got away.
"A secret wedding?" she scoffed, stepping past security as if they were invisible. "To her? Does she know why she's here, Phakin? Or are you saving that revelation for later?"
Something in her eyes held me still, yet what started as a question turned cold inside my chest.
"Does she know whose blood is tied to her father's success?" Araya spat. Her voice cut through the chatter.
Fear settled low, a chill where warmth should be.
"Out went everyone," Phakin barked, fingers digging into my side like claws.
"What is she talking about?" I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Araya's smile turned vicious. "Ask him about Red Sky. Ask him why the Vongviphan name disgusts him so much he'd buy the daughter just to destroy the father."
Out of balance went everything. That red glow overhead returned—not just memory but full force—flooding in like it never left. The broken building, the one Dad said couldn't be stopped, rose again inside my head, sharp and loud.
Out came the guards, dragging Araya off while her voice cracked through the air. Each shout grew louder, bouncing wild: "Lalin—wake up! His grudge runs your strings."
Footsteps echoed too loudly down the hall. Phakin stayed silent, guiding me fast through the back way out. Reporters shouted behind us, wild with questions. Marble floors made my shoes slip with each step. Moving quick was the only choice.
Inside, the world quieted when the SUV door shut tight behind us. Thick windows softened everything outside. Leather seats held stillness. The motor whispered low. Around us, the city rumbled far off. Silence settled between breaths.
Light trails held Phakin's gaze, his jaw tight. Gone was the one who'd brushed my hair so carefully just moments before.
"Phakin," I whispered, voice fraying. "What did she mean?"
Slowly, he pivoted. A hollowness etched deep into his features—sharp, icy rage—left me gasping. "When Red Sky fell apart," he said, barely above a whisper, "your father paid to walk away." Forty-three souls gone. His mother. His father. Buried in that number
Split wide by what I found out. His calm repeats about destiny, chance events, and nobody at fault—it all rang hollow now. Could it be deception? Maybe Phakin shaped his whole world on sorrow plus a need to strike back.
"I didn't know," I choked.
A single drop rolled down, then he brushed it away. His voice came softly. The promise must be kept
That's the reason you said yes? It sounded empty when I heard my own voice say it.
He turned his head aside. "Both," he stated. Unfeeling. Settled.
A vibration pressed into my hand. The display woke with a single note.
Trapped, weren't you? Be there tomorrow. I'll get you out. - K
Frozen beside Phakin's stiff silhouette, the urban glow dragged by like wet paint. Pressure built around me—slow, steady—from every angle.
Cliffhanger: A silence sat between us when I slipped the phone out of sight. His voice cut through it, low but sharp. Running would cost more than just me—he made that clear. Every word he said carried weight, like stones dropped one by one. Lalin wouldn't escape unharmed if I moved. The threat didn't shout—it settled.