Chapter 1: Beautiful, Rich, Sexy bitch

Chapter 1: Beautiful, Rich, Sexy bitch

"Is there really anything in this world that money... can't buy?

I'm Praemai Wisutpaisarn. My money can buy everything."

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Some people are born rich — the quiet, discreet kind of rich.

But for others, the word low-key doesn’ t even exist in their dictionary.

Because for a woman like her, if you’ re going to be rich, you might as well shout it from the rooftops: Who’ s the richest of them all?

That was the life philosophy of Praemai Wisutpaisarn, the one and only heir to the Visutpaisarn family empire — owners of Visuth Tech Group, one of Asia's leading FinTech and digital banking conglomerates.

From full-service digital banks to AI-powered investment platforms, cashless payment systems, online lending platforms, and even digital currencies pegged to the Thai Baht — if you’ re Thai and you’ ve ever deposited money, invested, made a payment, taken out a loan, or used digital currency, chances are you were touching something that belonged to the Visuth Tech empire.

In short, it all traced back to the Wisutpaisarn name.

Praemai was the kind of woman who could turn an abandoned parking lot into a mini Venice in the middle of Bangkok overnight — just by throwing money at it.

The kind of woman who, if she ever craved Singaporean chicken rice, would hop on a private jet without a second thought for carbon emissions.

And when she went shopping, she wouldn’ t just buy one or two items — she'd clear out the entire store. After all, why settle for one color when you could collect them all?

Praemai firmly believed there was no problem in life that couldn’ t be solved with enough money.

And if you think that’ s just arrogance?

Sorry to disappoint you — it was simply the truth.

Sure, Forbes Asia once ranked her among the Top 10 Most Useless Heirs in Asia.

Yes, you read that right: Most Useless Heirs in Asia.

And sitting comfortably at No. 1 on that list — without lifting a finger — was none other than our dazzling Thai heiress, Praemai herself.

But did she care?

Not. One. Bit.

After all, she was beautiful, rich, sexy — and absolutely indifferent to the world’ s opinions.

In her entire life, Praemai had never worked a single day.

She didn’ t know how to make a PowerPoint, couldn’ t open an Excel file, and thought “Startup” was the name of a new Korean girl group.

But did that ever cause her a problem?

Not even once.

Because Praemai possessed the greatest superpower known to mankind:

A Black Card. (Issued, of course, under her father’ s name.)

She didn’ t need to be smart — she could pay the smartest people to think for her.

She didn’ t need to build a business — she could simply buy them.

And most importantly, she didn’ t need to prove herself to anyone.

Because in Praemai Wisutpaisarn’ s world:

She was born to spend.

And spend she would.

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At the Wisutpaisarn Estate, the once-pristine front lawn had been transformed into a miniature Sahara Desert. Dozens of tons of golden sand had been trucked in, blanketing the ground and erasing all traces of grass, creating an eerily realistic desertscape. Miniature pyramids dotted the landscape, and to complete the illusion, live camels — rented all the way from Egypt — wandered leisurely among the dunes.

It was all conjured up for one night of entertainment.

Inside the venue, the music transported guests back to the golden age of ancient Egypt. Golden lights bathed everything in a shimmering glow, making the entire scene feel like a resurrected ancient kingdom. Tonight, every guest was royalty of the Egyptian Empire.

The invite list was short and exclusive — heirs of old-money dynasties, elite businessmen, global influencers, and young billionaires. Each guest was dressed in the theme of the “Golden Empire,” some as mighty Pharaohs, others as Egyptian queens, dripping in gold, gemstones, and custom silk garments tailored exclusively for tonight by the world's most prestigious fashion houses.

Champagne and imported wine flowed freely, served in genuine golden goblets by men and women dressed as ancient slaves, who moved silently among the crowd, offering drinks with dazzling smiles — human ornaments for this lavish affair.

But none of it mattered compared to what was about to happen next: the arrival of the party’ s queen.

Above their heads, over twenty drones hovered in the darkened sky, awaiting their cue to create a spectacle as planned by the hostess herself. Suddenly, the emcee’ s voice boomed across the grounds:

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’ s grand celebration! Introducing the queen of this empire — the future Cleopatra of Visuth Tech Group... Praemai Wisutpaisarn!”

At once, all the lights went out. The world was plunged into darkness.

Then — a single, blinding gold spotlight shot across the field, illuminating a colossal pyramid at the center of the venue. And atop it stood a lone figure.

Praemai Wisutpaisarn. The undisputed queen of the night.

Every gaze turned toward her as she descended slowly on a golden platform, radiant in a modern Cleopatra gown custom-made by Chanel Haute Couture — the pinnacle of luxury fashion, stitched entirely by hand for her alone. Atop her head sat a gleaming diamond-studded serpent crown from Cartier’ s High Jewelry collection, sparkling brighter than anything else in the night.

Her beauty was breathtaking — wide, doll-like eyes, a perfectly sculpted nose, and heart-shaped lips that curved into a flawless smile.

As the golden platform lowered toward the crowd, it felt as though everyone was holding their breath, awaiting a miracle.

And then — it happened.

The drones above released their cargo, sending a rain of thousand-baht banknotes fluttering from the sky. Soft squeals and laughter rippled through the crowd as guests eagerly pulled out their phones to capture the moment, ready to flood social media with their envy-inducing posts.

Praemai lifted her hands above her head, like a benevolent queen blessing her subjects, and with a dazzling smile, she spoke:

“Hey y’ all! Happy birthday to me!”

“This year I’ m turning twenty-four!”

“Fuck Forbes Asia for calling me the worst billionaire heiress!”

“But let’ s get one thing straight. I might be a mess, but I’ m the richest — and the hottest — mess in all of Thailand!”

“Hope everyone’ s having a blast at my birthday party!”

“And that cash on the floor? Whoever grabs it, it’ s yours. I’ m makin’ it rain today, baby!”

As her final words echoed through the air, the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers.

Everything about tonight seemed perfect. Magnificent. Flawless.

And yet — beneath all that dazzling perfection, no one knew the truth.

Nothing here was real.

Not the laughter. Not the admiring gazes. Not even the toasts in her honor.

Because in Praemai Wisutpaisarn’ s world, money could buy everything...

except one thing:

Sincerity, something she had never, ever been able to truly own.

…

The Next Morning

Praemai Wisutpaisarn descended the grand staircase in a luxurious cream silk pajama set, her face clearly broadcasting her reluctance to start a new day. A faint headache from last night’ s champagne lingered, but that wasn’ t what made her stop dead in her tracks.

It was the sight of Woraphot Wisutpaisarn, her father, sitting stiffly at the head of the breakfast table.

The man in his late fifties, impeccably dressed in a navy shirt and polished from hair to shoes, was none other than the founder and CEO of Visuth Tech Group — the fintech titan who had revolutionized Southeast Asia’ s financial landscape. And yet, he hadn’ t shared a breakfast table with his daughter in years.

“What a surprise,” Praemai drawled, crossing her arms at the end of the table without moving closer. “You’ re actually here for breakfast today.”

Woraphot looked up from his tablet, exhaling a thin sigh before replying in a cold, measured voice:

“Let’ s not call it breakfast, Praemai. It’ s already eleven. Since you graduated, have you ever done anything meaningful besides burning through my money on useless parties?”

Praemai clicked her tongue softly but didn’ t snap back immediately. Instead, she dragged herself into a chair opposite him with obvious laziness.

“Maid, serve the young miss,” came the sharp voice of Pa Niam, the long-time housekeeper, motioning to a young maid hovering uncertainly nearby.

At that moment, a tall man in a dark gray suit entered from the other side of the room, carrying a small velvet box. It was Non, Woraphot’ s personal driver.

“Put it there,” Woraphot said with a nod toward the table.

Non carefully placed the box down and quietly stepped away.

“Your birthday present,” Woraphot said simply. “You’ re twenty-four now. I don’ t have much to say — except that I hope you’ ll finally start acting like a functioning adult.”

Praemai glanced at the box, her expression caught somewhere between sarcasm and a flicker of unexpected happiness. At least her father hadn’ t forgotten her birthday. At least he was here, personally handing her a gift. It wasn’ t something that happened often.

She reached for the box and opened it — then froze.

Inside was a Patek Philippe watch. The exact same model as last year’ s gift, the only difference being the color of the leather strap.

Praemai’ s smile faltered. Slowly, she lifted her head.

“You don’ t remember, do you, Dad? You gave me the same Patek Philippe watch last year.”

Woraphot hesitated for a moment, but quickly masked it.

“If you don’ t like it, just tell Arthit. He’ ll get you another one. Pick whatever brand and model you want.”

The name Arthit — her father’ s trusted right-hand man — echoed awkwardly in the silence. Praemai said nothing. But her eyes shifted, betraying a flicker of something deeper beneath her carefully composed face.

She just sat there, quietly staring down at the gift box.

Woraphot stood up, brushing off his suit jacket, and tossed out one last, cutting remark:

“Another year older. Maybe try acting like it for once. Do you have any idea how ashamed I am that Forbes Asia ranked you the No. 1 worst billionaire heiress?”

He paused, letting the words sink in, before adding:

“Born with everything, yet incapable of anything. If you had even half the ability of Tawan — Arthit’ s adopted daughter — I wouldn’ t be this embarrassed.”

With that, Woraphot turned and walked away, leaving Praemai sitting alone.

She slowly, almost reverently, closed the box. No words came from her lips — only the distant, hollow gaze fixed on the unopened gift in front of her.

Would someone please tell her father — she was sick and tired of hearing that name.

Tawan this, Tawan that…

It was always about Tawan.

Just a foundling, taken in by her father’ s assistant.

How could she possibly be better than Praemai Wisutpaisarn?

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Hojicha Writer

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