Chapter Text
** Chapter 1 ; The Announcement **
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The ballroom of the Grand Asteria Hotel looked like something designed for people who had never once worried about the price of anything.
Gold light spilled from enormous crystal chandeliers suspended high above the marble floor, reflecting against champagne glasses and diamond necklaces until the entire room shimmered painfully bright. A live orchestra played near the staircase while politicians, celebrities, and business executives moved through the crowd with polished smiles and rehearsed laughter.
Orm hated every second of it.
She stood near the back of the ballroom holding a champagne flute she hadn’t touched in twenty minutes, already mentally planning how early she could leave without creating another family scandal.
Probably impossible.
“You’re making that face again.”
Orm glanced sideways at Becky, who looked entirely too entertained for someone trapped at the same event.
“What face?”
“The one where you look ready to commit tax fraud out of boredom.”
Orm sighed dramatically.
“If one more old man asks me when I’m getting married, I’m climbing into the decorative fountain outside and drowning myself.”
Becky snorted into her drink.
“To be fair, the fountain would probably look aesthetic with your dress.”
Orm looked down at the black silk gown wrapped tightly around her body. Elegant. Expensive. Uncomfortable. Her stylists had spent almost four hours preparing her tonight while her mother criticized everything from her posture to her lipstick shade.
Apparently being the daughter of the Nareerat family meant constantly performing.
Smile correctly.
Speak carefully.
Never embarrass the family.
It was exhausting.
Across the ballroom, her father laughed loudly beside a group of politicians, looking perfectly at home among the wealthy elite surrounding him.
**Near him, Orm’s mother stood elegantly in diamonds and silk, smiling beautifully at people she clearly didn’t care about.
Perfect posture.
Perfect makeup.
Perfect marriage.
Sometimes Orm wondered if her mother had ever truly loved anyone in her life.
The thought made something cold settle briefly in her stomach.
Then her mother noticed her looking and immediately smiled wider—
the kind meant for cameras, not daughters.
Orm looked away first.**
“You know what’s funny?” she muttered. “If I disappeared right now, nobody here would notice for at least an hour.”
“I’d notice.”
“You don’t count. You’re emotionally attached to chaos.”
“That’s because chaos is attached to you.”
Orm rolled her eyes but smiled faintly anyway.
Before she could answer, the atmosphere inside the ballroom shifted.
It happened subtly.
Quietly.
But instantly.
Conversations softened.
People turned toward the entrance.
Even the reporters near the stage straightened slightly.
Orm frowned.
“What now?”
Becky looked toward the doors and groaned softly.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“That’s what.”
Orm followed her gaze.
And immediately understood.
Ling Siritra Vachirawit entered the ballroom dressed entirely in black.
Not a dress.
A suit.
Sharp tailoring hugged her tall frame perfectly, silver cufflinks glinting beneath the ballroom lights as she moved calmly through the crowd. Her expression remained unreadable, cool enough to freeze the entire room if she wanted.
People moved aside for her instinctively.
**Even Orm’s father straightened slightly.
That alone was disturbing.
General Nareerat respected almost nobody.
Nobody even realized they were doing it.**
Orm had seen Ling before, obviously. Everyone had.
Youngest CEO in Thailand.
Heir to the Vachirawit empire.
Brilliant.
Untouchable.
Cold.
The media loved calling her the Ice Queen of Bangkok.
Orm personally thought she looked terrifying.
And unfairly attractive.
“Why does she walk like she owns gravity?” Orm muttered.
Becky laughed quietly.
Ling stopped near a group of executives speaking with her assistant, listening silently while one older businessman practically bent over himself trying to impress her.
She barely reacted.
Then her gaze lifted.
Straight toward Orm.
For one strange second, the noise around the ballroom faded.
Ling’s eyes lingered on her slightly too long before her expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Not softer.
But less distant.
Then it disappeared completely.
Orm blinked.
Weird.
“She looked at you,” Becky whispered immediately.
“She looked in my direction.”
“No,” Becky said smugly. “She definitely looked at you.”
Orm ignored her and reached for another champagne glass from a passing waiter.
Unfortunately, the universe apparently hated her.
Because ten minutes later, while distracted replying to Becky’s ridiculous messages under the table, Orm stepped backward directly into someone solid.
Champagne splashed.
A nearby woman gasped.
Orm looked up.
Of course.
Ling stared calmly down at the champagne stain now spread across the sleeve of her black suit.
The people standing nearby looked horrified.
One man actually whispered,
“Oh my God.”
Orm stared at the stain for half a second before sighing.
“Well,” she said dryly, “you look rich enough to survive dry cleaning.”
Silence.
Becky physically turned away to hide her laughter.
Ling looked at Orm for a long moment.
Close up, she was somehow worse.
Sharp jawline.
Dark eyes.
Perfect posture.
Everything about her felt controlled.
Calculated.
Dangerous.
“And you,” Ling replied smoothly, “look reckless enough to enjoy causing problems.”
Orm crossed her arms immediately.
“I said sorry internally.”
“I’m honored.”
God.
Why was her voice like that?
Low.
Calm.
The kind of voice that sounded dangerous at three in the morning.
Orm narrowed her eyes slightly.
“You always this dramatic over fabric?”
“Only when someone assaults me with imported champagne.”
A tiny smile threatened Becky’s mouth nearby.
Orm pointed at her accusingly.
“Don’t encourage her.”
Ling’s assistant approached carefully.
“Ms. Vachirawit, the board members are waiting.”
Ling gave a small nod without looking away from Orm.
Then she said quietly,
“Try not to attack anyone else tonight.”
**As Ling walked away, one older socialite leaned toward another woman nearby and whispered quietly—
“Madam Vachirawit finally got what she wanted.”
“I heard negotiations took almost two years.”
Orm frowned slightly.
Negotiations?
Before she could think harder about it, Becky distracted her by stealing the untouched champagne from her hand.**
Orm scoffed.
“No promises.”
Ling walked away.
Orm watched her leave for exactly three seconds before realizing she was watching her leave.
Annoying.
“Okay,” Becky whispered beside her, “that was flirting.”
“That was attempted murder.”
“You like her.”
“I absolutely do not.”
Becky looked unconvinced.
Orm ignored her completely.
Still…
For the next hour, she kept noticing Ling everywhere.
Across the ballroom talking to investors.
Near the stage speaking to reporters.
Standing beside politicians with that same unreadable expression.
And every single time—
Ling looked at her.
Not openly.
Not enough for others to notice.
But enough for Orm to feel it.
Which irritated her more than it should have.
“What?” Orm muttered under her breath after catching Ling staring again from across the room.
Ling calmly lifted her champagne glass slightly in acknowledgment before returning to conversation.
Arrogant woman.
The orchestra music softened suddenly.
**Her father finally approached her for the first time that evening.
Not as a father.
As General Nareerat.
“Stand properly,” he murmured under his breath.
Orm stared at him.
“Hello to you too.”
“The press is watching tonight.”
“They’re always watching.”
His jaw tightened slightly at her tone.
“For once, Orm, try not to create problems.”
Something bitter rose in her throat instantly.
Not:
Are you happy?
Are you tired?
Are you okay?
Just:
behave correctly.
Before she could answer, he already stepped away toward the stage again.**
Spotlights illuminated the center stage.
Orm immediately spotted both her father and Madam Vachirawit stepping toward the microphones together.
A cold feeling settled in her stomach instantly.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Beside the stage, Ling stood completely still.
Too still.
Beside the stage, Madam Vachirawit adjusted one of her diamond bracelets calmly.
Then—
for the briefest moment—
her eyes shifted toward Ling.
Observant.
Measuring.
Like she was checking whether her daughter would obey.
Ling’s expression never changed.
But her fingers tightened once around the champagne glass in her hand.
Madam Vachirawit smiled elegantly at the crowd.
“Thank you all for attending tonight’s charity gala.”
Polite applause followed.
Orm barely listened.
Her father still refused to look at her.
Panic crawled slowly beneath her ribs.
“Tonight,” Madam Vachirawit continued smoothly, “our families are also delighted to share some personal news.”
Orm lowered her champagne glass completely.
No.
No no no.
“The Vachirawit and Nareerat families are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughters.”
Silence.
Then chaos exploded.
Camera flashes burst violently across the ballroom.
Reporters immediately surged forward shouting questions over one another.
“What?”
“When did they start dating?”
“Is the wedding confirmed?”
“Who proposed?”
“Was this arranged?”
Orm couldn’t breathe.
The room blurred around her.
Her ears rang painfully as she stared at the stage in disbelief.
Then at her father.
He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
That hurt more than anything.
Nobody told her.
Nobody warned her.
She’d been traded like a business contract in front of half the country.
Humiliation burned through her chest so hard she felt sick.
Suddenly the reporters moved closer.
Questions crashed around her from every direction.
“Miss Nareerat, how long have you been seeing Ms. Vachirawit?”
“Are you in love?”
“Is this a political merger?”
Orm stepped backward instinctively.
Then a warm hand settled carefully against her lower back.
Steady.
Grounding.
Ling.
Orm looked up sharply.
Ling stood beside her now, expression colder than before as cameras flashed endlessly around them.
The touch should’ve felt possessive.
Instead, somehow, it felt protective.
“No further questions,” Ling said calmly.
Her voice cut through the noise effortlessly.
Even the reporters hesitated.
Ling guided Orm through the crowd with one hand still against her back, shielding her from cameras until they finally escaped through a side hallway leading onto one of the hotel balconies.
The doors shut behind them.
Silence.
Cool wind brushed against Orm’s skin immediately.
Bangkok glittered below them beneath a cloudy night sky.
Orm pulled away from Ling at once.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?”
Ling remained calm.
Too calm.
“You should lower your voice.”
Orm laughed sharply.
“Oh, now you care about appearances?”
Rain began falling softly outside the balcony railings.
Ling said nothing.
That silence snapped the last thread of Orm’s patience.
“You knew,” Orm said quietly.
Ling’s eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
The answer hit like a slap.
“And you agreed to this?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
No apology.
Just honesty.
Orm stared at her in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious.”
Ling’s jaw tightened almost invisibly.
“Orm—”
“No.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “No, explain this to me because I’d really love to understand how two families can announce an engagement without bothering to tell the actual people getting married.”
“It wasn’t my decision alone.”
“But you still said yes.”
Ling fell silent again.
Rain tapped softly against the marble balcony floor.
“You know what the worst part is?” Orm whispered. “I expected this from my family.”
That finally caused something in Ling’s expression to shift.
Small.
But visible.
Orm folded her arms tightly across herself.
“Was this some business deal? Political strategy? Did our parents decide we’d make a beautiful headline together?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No,” Orm snapped. “Actually, it feels pretty simple.”
For the first time all night, Ling looked almost… guilty.
And somehow that made Orm angrier.
Then quietly—
Softly—
Orm asked the question that actually mattered.
“Did you agree willingly?”
Ling looked directly into her eyes.
And answered honestly.
“Yes.”
Orm searched Ling’s face desperately after the answer.
Looking for hesitation.
Regret.
Anything.
But Ling only stood there beneath the rain looking painfully composed.
And somehow that composure hurt worse than anger would have.
The breath left Orm’s lungs.
Because some stupid part of her had hoped Ling was trapped too.
Forced into this.
Manipulated.
But she wasn’t.
She chose this.
Orm stepped backward slowly.
“I don’t even know you.”
The words landed harder than expected.
Ling looked at her for a long moment before replying quietly,
“You will.”
Orm shook her head in disbelief.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Then she turned and walked back inside before Ling could see how badly her hands were shaking.
The ballroom noise swallowed her instantly.
Music.
Laughter.
Camera flashes.
Everything felt unbearable now.
Behind her, the balcony doors remained closed.
And for some reason, despite everything—
Orm still couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ling’s hand felt against her back.
—
Outside, Ling remained alone beneath the rain.
For the first time that evening, her composure cracked.
Barely.
But enough.
She loosened the tight grip she’d maintained on herself all night and looked out across Bangkok’s glowing skyline.
Inside the ballroom, reporters celebrated the biggest story of the year.
But Ling only felt guilt twisting painfully inside her chest.
Because Orm looked hurt.
Betrayed.
And Ling had known she would.
Still—
She couldn’t regret it.
That was the worst part.
Ling closed her eyes briefly.
Orm didn’t know the truth.
Didn’t know Ling had memorized her laugh years ago.
Didn’t know Ling still kept old interviews saved on her phone.
Didn’t know this marriage was the only selfish thing Ling had ever wanted.
Rain dampened the sleeves of her suit slowly.
Then finally, quietly enough that nobody else could hear—
“I’m sorry.”
Her phone buzzed quietly in the pocket of her suit.
A message from Madam Vachirawit.
Do not lose control now.
Ling stared at the screen for several long seconds before locking the phone again.
Then, despite herself—
her gaze drifted back toward the ballroom doors.
Toward where Orm had disappeared.
Like even now, some part of her was still following.
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☆ U.A 💜