Chapter 2: Did I Just Kiss My Dad’ s Mistress?!

Chapter 2: Did I Just Kiss My Dad’ s Mistress?!

Late morning sunlight filtered through the canvas roof of a makeshift tent set up in the center of a small rural community. The air was thick and heavy with heat, but the smiles of the audience scattered across the open ground were warmer than anything else.

On a small wooden stage stood a young woman, speaking into a microphone. She had honey-toned skin and sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to see straight through a person. Her long, jet-black hair was pulled back in a simple, effortless style. Dressed in a plain white shirt and faded jeans, she blended in easily with the villagers — yet her confident posture and steady voice held everyone’ s attention.

Her name was Tawan Attanon.

She was the founder of Noonnam, a social enterprise startup that had developed a financial platform specifically for street vendors, farmers, and low-income earners — helping them plan, save, and invest seriously for their futures.

"...To sum it all up," Tawan said, her voice clear and firm, "financial planning isn’ t just for the wealthy. It’ s for everyone — especially those with limited income. Because if we don’ t have a plan, it becomes almost impossible to manage whatever little we do have."

She paused, sweeping her gaze gently over the crowd. The sunlight caught her features, making her warm smile glow even brighter.

"And most importantly," she continued, "I'd like to thank the Bank of Thailand for supporting this event and for sending staff to share their knowledge with everyone here today. Thank you all so much."

Applause rippled through the tent.

Just then, an elderly woman raised her hand. Tawan spotted her immediately and moved closer to the edge of the stage.

"Sweetheart... I understand what you’ re saying," the old woman said, her voice trembling slightly. "But the government’ s allowance for seniors barely covers a bag of rice these days. How can you expect me to plan anything, dear?"

Tawan fell silent for a moment, processing the pain in the woman’ s words.

"You’ re absolutely right, Grandma," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "When it comes to senior welfare, I truly believe our government needs to do much more — especially now that Thailand is entering a full-fledged aging society."

She paused again, letting her words sink in.

"In countries like Japan, and across Scandinavia," Tawan continued, "they have comprehensive systems to support the elderly — from pensions to healthcare and even housing assistance."

A soft murmur of agreement passed through the audience.

Tawan lowered her voice, speaking even more gently.

"But while we wait for change, I want to encourage all of us to do what we can for ourselves, however small it may be."

The old woman listened intently, her eyes reflecting quiet thought.

"Have you ever tried separating your money by purpose, Grandma? Maybe set aside a little for daily meals, another bit for medicine, another for transportation. It doesn’ t have to be perfect — just simple. Separate them into little envelopes or bags, so you can clearly see what’ s left, what’ s essential, and what can wait."

Tawan spoke slowly, as if choosing each word with care.

"And if, by any chance, you can save even five or ten baht a day — drop it into a small jar. Not to save a fortune. Just to build a habit. Because when the day comes that you truly need it, even having a hundred baht tucked away is better than having nothing at all."

The villagers around her began nodding, murmuring softly to each other, their faces lighting up with new understanding.

"The truth is," Tawan said with a tender smile, "we might not be able to change the whole world today. But we can change our own lives — starting with the little things we already have."

Thunderous applause filled the tent louder than at any other moment.

Tawan rose from where she had knelt on the ground, wiping sweat from her temple before flashing a warm smile at the crowd. She then made her way back onto the small stage to deliver the closing remarks.

As soon as the event officially ended, Tawan stepped down from the stage — only to hear quick footsteps approaching from the side.

"Our CEO is seriously the coolest and hottest boss this year! Totally killing it as the face of the new-gen executives!"

The teasing voice belonged to Kai, their ever-chatty PR lead, who stood alongside Pong, the quiet, nerdy programmer who was the unseen backbone of every operation behind the scenes.

Tawan glanced at them with a soft smile, then playfully put on a mock-stern face.

"No amount of flattery is going to get you a raise, Kai," she said with a grin. "Now help the team clean up the venue. I don’ t want a single piece of trash left behind. Once we’ re done here, I need to head back to the company for a meeting."

"Yesss, Madam CEO~" Kai sang dramatically, dragging out the words as he continued to tease.

At that moment, Tawan grabbed a matte-black helmet and headed toward her beloved big bike, which was parked beneath a large tree nearby. She glanced back once at her team, then slipped the helmet on with effortless cool.

With swift, practiced moves, she swung her leg over the bike. The engine rumbled low and deep as she revved it, then she rode off from the event grounds, disappearing into the distance.

Kai stood there, sighing long and loud, watching her go with wistful eyes.

"Seriously... she's gorgeous, smart, badass — and she rides a big bike? That’ s next-level cool."

…

“Noonnam” might have been a small company, but the dreams fueling its team were anything but.

Their goal was simple yet ambitious: to create a financial and investment platform that was truly accessible for all Thais — especially farmers, street vendors, and low-income earners. They wanted to empower the underdogs of the economy, giving them the tools to manage their money efficiently and dare to invest in their own futures.

Because of that philosophy, Noonnam’ s office wasn’ t housed in some towering skyscraper downtown. Instead, it was a modest three-story building by the roadside in a rural town — a place where anyone could walk in without feeling intimidated by glass doors or marble floors.

That afternoon, the young staff slowly trickled out of the meeting room, the monthly project review finally concluded.

Tawan Attanon was just stepping back toward her desk when her phone buzzed sharply in her hand.

She glanced at the screen.

“Dad.”

Tawan froze for a moment before answering, holding the phone up to her ear.

“Yes, Dad?”

The voice on the other end was immediate — gruff, quiet, steady — classic Arthit Attanon.

“Tawan, are you free tomorrow afternoon? I need you to come by Visuth Tech Group. Mr. Woraphot wants to meet with you.”

The name struck her like a reflex. Without realizing it, Tawan’ s grip on the phone tightened.

Woraphot Wisutpaisarn.

Her father’ s boss.

And the father of a girl she never thought she’ d hear about again.

Praemai Wisutpaisarn.

Once an entitled little ten-year-old she used to tutor in math — until that same girl mocked her for being “the nerdy four-eyed freak.”

Back then, Tawan hadn’ t felt anything in particular. Not hate. Not anger. Just detachment. And she never imagined they’ d cross paths again.

“What’ s this about?” she asked calmly. “Or is it about me turning down Visuth Tech Group’ s investment offer?”

Her tone remained level, without the slightest hint of sarcasm, but it was clear she was being cautious — very cautious — about anything involving that side of her father’ s world.

“No, it’ s not about the investment,” Arthit replied evenly. “It’ s about Miss Praemai.”

At that name, Tawan fell silent. Her gaze shifted slightly, as if something deep inside had stirred.

“This time…” Arthit added quietly, “I hope you won’ t turn down Mr. Woraphot’ s request like you did the last one… Tawan.”

His voice was calm, almost gentle — but Tawan knew better.

It wasn’ t a request.

It was an order, disguised as a plea.

She closed her eyes and took in a steady breath. Then opened them again with quiet resolve.

“Yes, Dad. I’ ll go tomorrow.”

…

A New Morning at the Wisutpaisarn Estate

Inside a master bedroom as spacious as a luxury condo in downtown Bangkok, a young woman lay curled up like a shrimp beneath a thick duvet atop a mattress soft enough to rival any five-star hotel bed.

A sharp beep broke the silence—the sound of the air-conditioning being turned off.

Gradually, the cool comfort of the room began to shift into a stifling warmth.

“Ughhh... Who turned off the AC? Niaaammm~”

A whiny voice emerged from under the blanket as the temperature grew more and more irritating.

It wasn’ t long before the slim figure, wrapped in French silk sleepwear, slowly sat up with great reluctance.

“Time to wake up, miss,” said Niam, the mansion’ s long-serving head housekeeper, as she entered the room carrying a silver tray with a neatly folded, warm mineral-infused towel.

“Mr. Woraphot has asked to see you at the company today.”

Praemai wrinkled her nose in protest, then flopped back onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her face.

“I partied late last night, Niam... I can’ t. I’ m exhausted. Can I just not go? I’ m feeling way too lazy today.”

“No can do, miss. Your father said it’ s something important.”

At that, Praemai reluctantly tossed the blanket aside and sat cross-legged on the bed. She stretched with a dramatic sigh, then grabbed the warm towel and dabbed her face half-heartedly.

“Ugh. Can’ t he just call me? Why drag me all the way to the office?”

She muttered between yawns, then added sarcastically:

“Maybe he’ s calling me in to hand over the Wisutpaisarn empire. If he’ s planning to transfer all the shares and assets to me, he could’ ve told me yesterday. I would’ ve gotten up early to do my makeup for the occasion.”

“Don’ t say things like that, miss. It’ s not very ladylike.”

Niam’ s calm, gentle reprimand hit its mark. Praemai’ s smirk faltered. Her lips slowly pressed into a thin line.

She avoided the older woman’ s gaze and replied softly:

“Sorry, Niam... I was just being sarcastic.”

“Then let’ s get you up and ready, shall we? The driver’ s already waiting out front.”

“Okay...”

Praemai answered in a small voice. Still sluggish, but clearly resigned to her fate. She swung her legs off the bed at last.

Trying to stay optimistic, she thought to herself—Maybe Dad really is calling me in... to give me that billion-baht inheritance.

Well, really now...

Who else would he give it to, if not his one and only daughter—gorgeous, glamorous, and undeniably fabulous?

…

As for Tawan

Inside the top-floor office of Visuth Tower, the atmosphere was steeped in a heavy, somber tone. Though the room was so silent that the ticking of the clock was clearly audible, Tawan Attanon’ s mind was anything but calm—it was a chaotic storm of questions and uneasy thoughts.

She sat upright on the reception sofa facing a massive desk, her hands folded neatly in her lap, forcing herself to remain composed despite the churning turmoil inside.

The fitted dark gray suit she wore emphasized her tall, slender frame, giving her the polished look of a young CEO—but beneath that poised exterior, a deep unease simmered.

There had to be something significant behind this sudden, private summons by Woraphot Wisutpaisarn, the billionaire owner of Visuth Tech Group, especially since it apparently involved his daughter.

As Tawan's eyes wandered the room, lost in thought, the door suddenly slammed open with a loud bang.

Bang!

The noise jolted her upright instinctively.

And then—a young woman stormed into the room.

She was striking: fair-skinned, with honey-brown waves tumbling down her shoulders, sharp, modelesque features, and large, expressive eyes. Yet her entire demeanor radiated pure, unrestrained entitlement. The luxury heels on her feet probably cost more than Tawan’ s monthly salary combined.

The woman stopped, giving Tawan a once-over from head to toe.

“Wait a sec... Who are you?”

The question was delivered flatly—half an inquiry, half a dismissal—and before Tawan could even open her mouth to respond, the woman launched into a tirade.

“And what are you even doing in this room? Who let you in? Wait—don’ t tell me... Are you one of my father’ s mistresses?!”

“Oh. My. God. Are you here to split my inheritance or something?!”

“Excuse me?”

Tawan’ s brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you even talking about?”

But there was no time for explanations.

The young woman marched forward, grabbing Tawan’ s arm with surprising force, as if determined to drag her out of the office herself.

“I told my dad already! If he wants to keep mistresses, fine—but don’ t shove them in my face! There’ s no way I’ m sharing my inheritance with some random woman. Got it?”

The aggressive tug made Tawan stumble back a step, but she quickly braced herself, her well-trained body steadying before she could fully lose her balance.

“Wait! You’ re misunderstanding—I’ m not—”

Before she could finish, the two of them lost their footing and toppled together to the floor.

Thud!

Their bodies collided with a muted thump, followed by a sharp gasp from both women.

Somehow, in the chaos, the other girl landed right on top of Tawan—and worse, their lips brushed together by accident. Tawan’ s eyes flew wide open in shock, frozen mid-breath.

The young woman froze too—for exactly one second—before jolting upright as if electrocuted.

“Eww!!” she shrieked, scrambling away. “I just kissed my father's mistress?! Oh my God, I’ m going to throw up!”

Her shrill voice practically shook the walls.

Tawan pushed herself up, her face burning red, completely stunned and utterly bewildered by the absurdity of it all.

Just then, a deep, irritated voice cut through the commotion:

“What the hell are you screaming about, Praemai?!”

The door burst open again, and in strode Woraphot Wisutpaisarn, his expression dark with annoyance. Following close behind him was Arthit Attanon, Tawan’ s foster father.

The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence.

Praemai spun around, her eyes bright with anger and humiliation.

“Dad! How could you bring your mistress into the company?! Is this the so-called ‘important meeting’ you called me here for?! To introduce her?!”

Woraphot scowled deeply, then turned his glare toward Tawan.

“Mistress? What the hell are you talking about, Praemai? This is Tawan. Arthit’ s daughter. The one who used to tutor you in math when you were in elementary school. Don’ t you remember Tawan?”

Praemai froze, her eyes widening in stunned realization.

At the same time, Tawan felt as if time itself had screeched to a halt.

No way. This spoiled, shrieking, dramatic woman—this walking hurricane—was the same little girl who once had the audacity to call her…

Big Four-Eyed Nerd.

Tawan swallowed hard, staring incredulously at the woman before her.

Praemai Wisutpaisarn. Once a bratty kid. Now grown into a stunningly beautiful, wildly temperamental woman—and, it seemed, still every bit as insufferable as ever.

And judging from the way she glared at her now, Tawan had no doubt.

Praemai still absolutely, wholeheartedly hated her.

God help me, I’ m seriously facing my childhood nightmare all over again.

…

Hojicha Writer

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