Chapter 3

The sun was an act of violence.

​That was the first thought that crossed Lena’s mind as she cracked one eye open. The blackout curtains in her penthouse bedroom had a gap-a single, traitorous gap-that was letting a laser beam of Bangkok sunshine burn directly into her retina.

​She groaned and rolled over, pulling the silk duvet over her head. Her mouth tasted like regret and expensive vodka. Her head felt like there was a construction crew drilling for oil inside her skull.

​What time is it?

​She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, knocking over a bottle of water in the process. She ignored the spill and tapped the screen.

​10:14 AM

​”Oh, shit,” she croaked. Her voice sounded like she had been gargling gravel.

​”If you’re not in my office by 8:00 AM…”

​Lena sat up, instantly regretting the sudden movement as the room spun. “She’s bluffing,” Lena whispered to the empty room. “She’s my sister. She loves me. She wouldn’t change the locks.”

​But as she stared at the screen, she saw three notifications.

​Bank of Ayudhya: Transaction Declined: GrabFood (280 THB)

Citibank: Card ending in 4490 has been suspended by the primary account holder

AMEX: Card Suspended

​The construction crew in her head stopped drilling and started screaming.

​Forty-five minutes later, Lena marched into the lobby of Schuett Tower. She was wearing oversized sunglasses to hide the dark circles and a white pantsuit that screamed ‘business,’ even though she felt like death.

​”Good morning, Khun Lena,” the receptionist chirped.

​”Coffee,” Lena barked, walking past the security gates without swiping her card. “Black. In my sister’s office. Now.”

​She took the executive elevator to the 35th floor. Nut was waiting for her outside the double glass doors, looking like he was about to face a firing squad.

​”Khun Lena! You’re here! finally,” Nut whispered, checking his watch. “She’s… she’s in a mood.”

​”When is she not?” Lena adjusted her sunglasses. “Did she really freeze my cards, Nut? I couldn’t even order congee this morning.”

​”She froze everything, Khun Lena. Even the fuel card for the van.”

​Lena pushed past him and threw open the doors to the CEO’s office.

​It was freezing inside. Pimpisa “Pim” Schuett liked her office to be the temperature of a morgue. She was sitting behind a desk made of black marble, signing documents with a fountain pen that probably cost more than Lena’s education. She didn’t look up.

​”You’re late,” Pim said. Her voice was calm, low, and terrifying.

​”I had a flat tire,” Lena lied smoothly, dropping into the leather chair opposite the desk. She crossed her legs. “And really, Pim? Freezing my cards? Isn’t that a bit dramatic, even for you?”

​Pim finally stopped writing. She capped her pen, set it down with a precise click, and looked at her younger sister.

​Pim was thirty-two, six years older than Lena, but she carried herself with the gravity of a fifty-year-old war general. She was immaculately groomed, her bob cut sharp enough to slice bread.

​”Dramatic,” Pim repeated. She picked up a piece of paper and slid it across the marble desk.

​Lena picked it up. It was a printout of a receipt.

The Iron Fairies. 2:00 AM. Total: 185,000 THB.

​”Networking,” Lena said, tossing the paper back. “I was buying drinks for the creative director of Vogue.”

​”You were buying shots for a DJ named ‘MC Hammerhead’,” Pim corrected. “I saw the Instagram stories, Lena. You were dancing on a table.”

​”It was a very sturdy table.”

​”You are twenty-six years old,” Pim said, her voice dropping an octave. “When I was twenty-six, I was negotiating our entry into the Vietnamese market. You? You are a liability.”

​”I am the face of this brand!” Lena argued, standing up. Her head throbbed, but she ignored it. “People buy our lipsticks because I wear them.”

​”People buy our lipsticks because the formula is good. Or at least, it was.” Pim stood up too, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Bangkok skyline. “Our current supplier for the ‘Silk Skin’ line is failing. Quality has dropped. Costs are up. We need a new manufacturer. One that can handle our volume and meet the new organic export standards for the EU.”

​”Okay,” Lena shrugged. “So? Hire someone. Why are you telling me this? I don’t do supply chain. I do… vibes.”

​Pim turned around. A small, cruel smile played on her lips. “Exactly. You don’t do anything. Which is why you are going to fix this.”

​”Excuse me?”

​”I have identified a potential partner,” Pim said, walking back to her desk and tapping a thick file. “Taechamongkalapiwat Manufacturing. They are the best in the region. Old family, very traditional, very strict. They don’t usually take on contract work for commercial brands like ours. They prefer medical grade and spa products.”

​”Sounds boring,” Lena yawned.

​”Your job,” Pim continued, ignoring the yawn, “is to go down there, meet with them, and convince them to manufacture our new line. You will not leave until the contract is signed.”

​Lena stared at her. “Send the sourcing manager. Send Nut. I have a pilates retreat this weekend.”

​”The sourcing manager didn’t spend 200,000 Baht on tequila last night,” Pim said coldly. “You are going. And because I know you, Lena, I am removing your distractions.”

​Pim pressed a button on her intercom. “Security? Please bring the keys.”

​A guard walked in and placed a car key on the desk. It wasn’t the key to Lena’s chauffeured Alphard van. It was a simple, plastic key with a Toyota logo.

​”You’re taking the pool car,” Pim stated. “No driver. Nut will go with you to take notes, but you are leading the project. Your credit cards remain frozen until the contract is signed. You will live on a per diem.”

​”A per diem?” Lena gasped. “Like… an allowance?”

​”Two thousand Baht a day. Cash.”

​”That doesn’t even cover my lunch!”

​”Then eat cheaper food,” Pim said, sitting back down and reopening her file. “The factory is in Chonburi. It’s a two-hour drive. I suggest you leave now. Traffic gets bad afternoon.”

​”I hate you,” Lena hissed, grabbing the Toyota key. “I actually hate you.”

​”I know,” Pim didn’t look up. “Get the contract, Lena. Or don’t come back.”

​Lena spun around and stormed out of the office, slamming the heavy glass door so hard it shook. Nut jumped.

​”Khun Lena?” Nut squeaked.

​Lena held up the Toyota key like it was a dead rat. “Get your bag, Nut. We’re going to hell.”

​”Hell?”

​”Chonburi,” Lena spat. “Same thing.”