Chapter 9

The first thing Lena smelled was smelling salts. Sharp, stinging ammonia that burned the inside of her nose.

​”Gah!” Lena gasped, bolting upright.

​”She’s awake!” Nut’s voice squeaked.

​Lena blinked rapidly. She wasn’t on the leather sofa anymore. She was sitting on a paper-covered examination bed in a small, white room. A nurse was standing over her, capping a bottle of smelling salts.

​”Easy, Khun Lena,” a deep voice came from the corner. “Your blood sugar dropped. And I suspect you’re dehydrated.”

​Lena turned her head. Win Taechamongkalapiwat was sitting on a stool, reading a file. He looked unbothered, as if heiresses fainting in his clinic happened every Tuesday.

​”Khun… Win,” Lena croaked. She patted her hair. It felt like a bird’s nest. “I fainted. How embarrassing.”

​”It happens,” Win said, closing the file. “Factory air quality can be a shock if you’re used to… well, Paragon.”

​He stood up and walked over to her. He held out a blue folder.

​”The contract,” he said.

​Lena’s eyes widened. She grabbed it, ignoring the dizziness. She flipped to the last page. There it was-his signature. Thanawin Taechamongkalapiwat.

​”You signed it,” Lena breathed. “Even though I… even though I treated your sister like a janitor?”

​Win’s lips twitched. “Miu told me about that. She said it was ‘character building.’ For you, not her.”

​Lena flushed a deep, ugly red. “I didn’t know. She was wearing a hairnet. And she was holding a wrench.”

​”Miu likes to be hands-on,” Win said, his tone shifting slightly. It became sharper. Protective. “She built the production lines in this factory herself. She knows every bolt, every valve, and every employee’s name. If you want to work with us, Khun Lena, you need to understand that titles don’t mean much here. Competence does.”

​He tapped the folder in her hands.

​”That is a probationary contract. Three months. We run your ‘Silk Skin’ line. If there are any issues-payment delays, supply chain drama, or… interpersonal conflicts with my staff-we have the right to terminate immediately.”

​”Three months,” Lena repeated. “Probation.”

​”Miu agreed to the product because the formula is challenging. She likes a challenge,” Win said, checking his watch. “But she hasn’t agreed to you yet. I suggest you don’t give her a reason to cancel.”

​He nodded to Nut, who was cowering in the corner. “My driver will escort you back to your car. Drive safely.”

​Win turned and left the clinic, leaving Lena holding the folder, feeling small, dirty, and terrifyingly indebted to the woman she had ordered to take out the trash.

​1:30 PM
Schuett Tower, Bangkok

​Lena walked into the Schuett headquarters like a soldier returning from a lost war.

​She was still wearing the grey-stained white suit. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. She smelled of factory chemicals and ammonia.

​People in the lobby stared. Lena didn’t care. She marched to the elevators, swiped her temp card, and rode to the 35th floor.

​She threw open the doors to Pim’s office.

​Pim was on a conference call. She looked up, saw Lena, and immediately held up a finger to the phone. “Gentlemen, let me call you back. Something… tragic has just walked in.”

​Pim hung up. She looked Lena up and down with clinical detachment.

​”You look hideous,” Pim said. “Did you sleep in a dumpster?”

​”I slept in a Toyota Corolla in Chonburi,” Lena snapped, throwing the blue folder onto the marble desk. “But I got it.”

​Pim opened the folder. She checked the signature. She checked the terms. She checked the probation clause.

​”Probation,” Pim noted. “Standard for them. But good. You got the signature.”

​”Can I have my cards back now?” Lena slumped into the chair. “I need a spa day. I need three spa days. I need to burn these clothes.”

​Pim opened her drawer and tossed a platinum credit card onto the desk. It landed with a satisfying clink.

​”There,” Pim said. “You survived.”

​Lena grabbed the card and kissed it. “Thank god. I’m going home. I’m ordering room service. I’m never going back to that hellhole.”

​”Actually,” Pim said, leaning forward. “You are going back.”

​Lena froze. “What?”

​”Read the email I just forwarded you,” Pim said. “The probation terms require a weekly site visit from a Schuett representative to oversee the quality checks. Win insisted on it.”

​”Send Nut!” Lena cried. “Or the sourcing manager!”

​”Win specifically asked for the representative who initiated the contract,” Pim smiled, a cold, shark-like smile. “That’s you, Lena.”

​Lena groaned, putting her head in her hands. “Pim, you don’t understand. It’s awkward. I… I made a mistake.”

​”What kind of mistake?”

​”I sort of… mistook the Head of Production for a cleaner. And ordered her to empty my trash.”

​Pim was silent for a long time. Then, she let out a low whistle.

​”And let me guess,” Pim said. “The Head of Production is Miu Taechamongkalapiwat?”

​”Yes,” Lena whispered into her hands.

​”You insulted a Taechamongkalapiwat,” Pim rubbed her temples. “Lena, do you know who their mother is? She sits on the board of the bank that holds our loans.”

​”I know! I googled them in the car!”

​”Fix it,” Pim commanded. Her voice was like a whip crack. “You are going back there next week for the first production run. And you are going to make nice with Miu. If she pulls this contract because you hurt her feelings, I won’t just freeze your cards, Lena. I will donate your entire shoe collection to charity.”

​Lena gasped. “Not the Louboutins.”

​”Every. Single. Pair.”

​Pim pointed at the door. “Now go shower. You smell like regret.”

​8:00 PM
The Penthouse

​Lena lay in her bathtub, surrounded by bubbles, a glass of expensive red wine in her hand. She should be relaxed. She had her cards back. She had her AC. She had her view of the city.

​But she couldn’t relax.

​She kept seeing Miu’s face. The grease smudge. The smirk when she revealed who she was. The way she had handed Lena the face wipe.

​”I’ll make sure to tell the cleaning staff you have high standards.”

​Lena groaned and sank underwater, screaming bubbles into the silence.

​She surfaced, gasping for air, and grabbed her phone. She opened her browser and typed:

Gifts for people who have everything.

​Search results: Yachts. Private Islands. Rare Art.

​”Useless,” Lena muttered. She opened the Hermès app.

​”Everyone likes Hermès,” she reasoned. “It’s a universal language. I’ll buy her something small. Classy. A peace offering.”

​She scrolled until she found it. A ‘Rodeo’ bag charm in lambskin. Orange and blue. It cost 25,000 Baht. Pocket change for a Taechamongkalapiwat, sure, but it was the gesture that counted.

​”I’ll give it to her next week,” Lena decided, hitting Buy Now. “I’ll walk in, hand her the orange box, apologize charmingly, and she’ll be so impressed by my grace that she’ll forget I ever called her a janitor.”

​Lena smiled, taking a sip of wine. It was a perfect plan.

​Lena Schuett was great at buying people’s forgiveness. She had no idea that Miu Taechamongkalapiwat couldn’t be bought.