Chapter 3: The Fallen Heiress

Inside the luxurious top-floor office of Visuth Tower, silence had returned after the earlier chaos—a silence that stood in stark contrast to the storm raging inside Praemai Wisutpaisarn.

She sat on the plush sofa with her arms folded and cheeks puffed in frustration, a dramatic pout on her pale pink lips. Her wide, doll-like eyes flicked toward the woman she already despised—Tawan Attanon.

She didn’t trust her. Not even a little.

Because in her entire life, Praemai had never once come out ahead in any comparison with Tawan. Every time her father brought up “Arthit’s daughter”—it felt like a slap in the face, like she was being diminished just a little more.

“Why do I have to get to know her, Dad? We already met when we were kids. And it wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory. We’re adults now. Can’t we just... not?”

Her voice rose pointedly, leaving no room for doubt about her displeasure.

Woraphot sighed deeply, his tone tight with effort as he tried to keep his temper in check.

“You were children then. You’re grown now. I want you to get along with Tawan. One day, she might be someone who can help you... look out for you.”

Praemai scoffed on the spot, rolling her eyes like a teenager.

“Oh please. What’s she going to help me with? She tutored me in math once and threw a tantrum just because I teased her about her nerdy glasses. If she couldn’t handle that, how’s she supposed to handle me now?”

The words made Tawan flinch slightly—but before she could say anything, Praemai pressed on, relentless:

“And don’t forget, Visuth Tech Group is millions of times bigger than her little startup! For all we know, that company of hers only grew because we invested in it!”

The faint smile on Tawan’s face vanished.

She turned sharply, her narrow eyes locking onto Praemai’s with piercing precision.

“Just so you know, Miss Praemai—I’ve never taken a single baht from Visuth Tech Group.”

Her voice was calm. Controlled. But the heat behind it boiled over like water at a full, rolling rage.

Praemai immediately rolled her eyes again, pouting hard enough to reshape her whole face.

Tawan drew in a long breath, ready to fire back—but then caught Arthit’s eyes. He gave a subtle shake of his head.

Enough.

Tawan pressed her lips into a tight line and swallowed every last drop of what she was about to say.

Woraphot, silent until now, let out a slow breath—tired of his only daughter’s theatrics.

“You really need to learn how to watch your mouth, Praemai. If you keep talking like this, you might not even live long enough to grow old.”

Praemai jerked her chin up in defiance.

“Whatever.”

Her voice was sharp, clipped, sulky.

There was a pause.

Then Woraphot spoke again—this time, in a tone so serious it made the air in the room turn heavy.

“There’s another reason I called you here today. Besides introducing you to Tawan... there’s something else you need to know.”

He paused again.

“What is it, Dad?”

“Our company has been declared bankrupt. All of our assets are about to be seized.”

Silence. But not just any silence—the kind that crashes like a wave and leaves everything still.

Praemai’s eyes widened. Her phone slipped from her hand and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

“What?! You just bought me a Patek Philippe watch for my birthday! What do you mean we’re bankrupt? Is this some kind of April Fools’ joke?!”

Her voice cracked, rising into full-blown panic.

Woraphot stepped out from behind his desk, his face stone-cold—like he was preparing to declare war on the world.

“Listen to me, Praemai. Visuth Tech Group has been running at a loss for years. The massive debt we’ve been trying to cover—it collapsed. Everything’s going to be seized. The house. The cars. The land. Every account under your name and mine.”

“No!” Praemai clapped her hands over her ears. “No, no, no! I don’t believe you! You’re messing with me! You’re trying to scare me, right?”

“Praemai...” Woraphot said quietly, “I’m not joking.”

“Every car I bought you. The house you live in. Every bank account. Every credit card you swipe like it’s magic—they’re all going to be frozen. You won’t be able to use a single one.”

Praemai collapsed onto the sofa as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She clutched her head, her vision blurring—brain short-circuiting.

“But... what about the monthly payments I get from our Dynasty Trust...? They’re still coming in, right...?”

Woraphot didn’t miss a beat.

“There’s nothing left, Praemai. Absolutely nothing. The Wisutpaisarn name... is finished. And I don’t even have a single baht left to give you.”

Praemai went still. Her lips parted slightly.

It was the look of someone who had just realized that “rock bottom” wasn’t something that only happened in dramas or tabloid gossip...

It had walked right into her perfect little life and set everything on fire.

“Right now… no one outside knows about the bankruptcy. We don’t have much time before it hits the news. I need to lay low and avoid the press.”

Woraphot paused, then turned to look his daughter dead in the eyes—his expression steely, as if he wanted every word to etch itself into her memory.

“You can’t stay here in the mansion anymore.”

That was all it took.

Praemai burst into loud, messy sobs.

“Nooo—this isn’t happening!”

Woraphot turned to Tawan, his gaze steady and serious.

“Tawan, I have no one else. Please take care of her for me. Let her stay at your place. Teach her how to work, how to earn her own money, how to live like a normal person. Think of it as… a favor from an old man.”

Tawan opened her mouth to respond but hesitated—caught completely off guard.

“You can even let her work for you. Make her earn her keep, if that helps,” Woraphot added in a calm tone—like it was just another item on a meeting agenda.

But to the one being spoken about, it hit like lightning straight to the skull.

Praemai froze mid-sob. Her tears stopped on cue.

And then—she exploded.

“A maid!? You want me to be P’Tawan’s maid, Dad? Seriously?!”

She was so stunned she accidentally called Tawan “P’ Tawan” (a title of respect for an elder sibling)—something she’d sworn never to say aloud.

“Nooooo!”

Her voice shot up several octaves as a new flood of tears erupted. It was so exaggerated and pitiful, it somehow felt more ridiculous than tragic.

“I’m not going! I’m not going to be anyone’s maid! And calling her ‘P’ just now? That was an accident! I didn’t mean it! Ughhh!”

Her meltdown, with its wild mix of wailing and sulking, was so over-the-top it almost made the air in the room... weirdly entertaining.

Tawan stood frozen, watching the spectacle unfold. She didn’t know what expression to wear. Sympathy? Laughter? Disbelief?

God, what is happening? Why does this feel like a twisted sitcom?

But then she inhaled, composed herself, and replied softly—calm, but firm.

“Alright, Mr. Woraphot. I’ll take Miss Praemai.”

She used “Miss Praemai” with deliberate formality—trying to keep a respectful distance she instinctively knew she’d never be able to maintain.

“I’ll take her in. I’ll teach her how to take care of herself, how to make her own money, how to stand on her own two feet—until you’re ready to come back.”

Woraphot finally closed his eyes. A deep sigh escaped him, like he’d just set down the weight of the world.

“Good. Then take her with you today. There’s probably nothing she needs to pack anyway.”

Tawan blinked.

“...Today? Seriously?”

But before she could get an answer—

“Whaaaaat?! Today?!”

Praemai’s shriek pierced the air like a siren. Her voice somehow managed to rise another few decibels.

“Where even is your house, P’ Tawan?! Don’t tell me it’s surrounded by rice fields! Do you even have a maid? A facialist?! A café? Delivery? I need my skincare laser treatment every six months, you know!”

Tawan let out an internal sigh—then replied in the same even tone, but this time with just the faintest hint of mischief.

“I don’t live in the middle of a rice field, Miss Praemai. It’s just a small house... But I do have a fan for you to sleep under. You won’t be too hot, I promise.”

Praemai’s eyes went wide.

“A... fan? Wait—no air-conditioning?!”

Tawan didn’t say a word.

“NO AIR-CONDITIONING?!”

The scream that followed was practically operatic. Woraphot rubbed his temples, as if preparing for another migraine.

Tawan, meanwhile, allowed herself a tiny, private smile.

She hadn’t expected to enjoy teasing this spoiled heiress... but for some reason, she really did.

…

The underground parking garage of Visuth Tower was as quiet as always in the late afternoon—eerily calm, in fact, compared to the storm raging inside one woman’s head.

"This is insane…"

Praemai mumbled to herself for the twelfth time. Her eyes, still red from crying, were filled with disbelief. Her lips, perfectly shaped like a heart, pressed together in silent protest.

She trailed behind Tawan with clear irritation, while the other woman walked ahead in calm, measured strides—as if the dramatic meltdown from just a few hours ago had never happened.

Until—

"We're here."

Tawan stopped in front of the last parking space.

Sitting there was a matte black beast of a machine: a massive big bike, looking completely out of place in the life of a pampered heiress.

Praemai came to a halt, staring at the motorcycle like it had crawled out of another dimension.

"Wait a minute... This is your ride?"

"Yep."

Tawan replied casually, pulling a helmet from the back compartment.

"Put this on. If we don’t leave now, you’re going to end up riding a big bike right through downtown traffic."

Praemai inhaled sharply, eyes wide in horror.

"You’ve got to be kidding me. You expect me to get on that thing?!"

She crossed her arms and took a step back, like she’d just been asked to pet a venomous snake.

“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle in my life! The wind messes up my hair, it gets all tangled, my makeup melts, and I have to breathe in all that disgusting exhaust! I’m Praemai Wisutpaisarn, okay? I usually ride in a Bentley Flying Spur worth fourteen million—with a driver! There’s no way I’m getting on this lame old big bike!”

Tawan let out a long, dramatic sigh. Then she calmly took out her phone and flipped to the camera.

"What are you doing?!" Praemai’s voice went up an octave.

"Just taking a quick video."

Her tone was cool, but there was a flicker of mischief in her eyes.

"How about this for a caption? ‘Praemai Wisutpaisarn, heiress of Visuth Tech Group, has fallen so far she’s throwing a tantrum in the parking lot... because she refuses to ride a big bike.’ Too much?"

"You wouldn’t dare!"

Praemai shrieked, her face turning scarlet.

"If you don’t get on, I just might," Tawan said with a shrug, holding the helmet out again.

"You... you absolute—!"

Teeth clenched, Praemai snatched the helmet from her with a trembling hand—looking like she’d rather be struck by lightning.

She fumbled with the chin strap, clearly having no idea what she was doing.

Tawan stepped forward and adjusted the strap gently, her hands moving with surprising care.

Their faces ended up just inches apart.

Their eyes met.

And in that fleeting moment, Tawan's gaze wasn’t cold or sarcastic—it was unexpectedly soft, even kind.

Praemai’s heart skipped.

"You're not a kid anymore, Miss Praemai," Tawan said quietly. "Time to stop throwing tantrums like one."

It shouldn’t have sounded touching.

But it did.

Something about it felt... oddly warm.

Praemai immediately looked away, as if trying to hide something that had flickered behind her eyes.

"...Whatever."

She muttered under her breath, defeated.

Tawan smirked, then climbed onto the bike and gave the back seat a quick pat.

"Hop on, Your Highness."

Praemai made a face—but climbed on anyway, clumsily and with great reluctance.

She gripped the back handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Don’t go fast! No sharp turns! No weaving through traffic! And absolutely no alley shortcuts! I’m not dying at twenty-four, you hear me?!"

"Yes, ma’am."

Tawan replied flatly—but the way her lips twitched made it clear she was holding back laughter.

The engine rumbled to life—deep and powerful—and the bike rolled smoothly out of the garage.

…

At Tawan’s house

After two long hours on the road, they finally arrived.

Tawan swung her leg off the bike, pulled off her helmet, and turned around to check on her passenger.

Praemai was still struggling to climb off the back seat, her perfectly styled hair now a fluffy mess. She looked around, blinking at the modest, cozy house in front of her.

"...This is your house?" she asked softly, her voice stripped of its usual sharpness.

Tawan nodded.

"Yep. Come on in."

To her surprise, Praemai followed without a single complaint. No grumbling. No eye-rolls. No dramatic sighs. Strange.

The sliding door opened, and they stepped into a bright, airy living space that connected seamlessly to a small garden out front. Praemai turned slowly, taking in the room in silence—until she just... stopped.

"...You okay?" Tawan asked, raising an eyebrow.

No response.

Then, without warning, Praemai wiped her eyes—and let out a soft, shaky sniff.

Tawan’s eyes widened as she hurried closer.

"Hey... wait. Are you crying?"

"Because your house..." Praemai said between tiny sobs, "...has air conditioning!"

"...What?" Tawan blinked.

"You lied! You said it only had a fan! You tricked me!"

Tears streamed down her face, but her voice had jumped into a pitch so high it was almost comedic.

Tawan struggled to keep a straight face. She failed.

"Well, can you survive it? My house may not be as big as the Wisutpaisarn mansion, but it does have walls, a roof, and apparently... AC."

Praemai glanced around the room again, arms crossed.

"...I can survive," she muttered, pouting. "Even if your whole house is the size of my living room. Actually, scratch that—my living room might be bigger than your whole house."

Tawan rolled her eyes but didn’t bother arguing. Instead, she walked over to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, grabbing a couple of drinks.

"You want something to drink?" she asked, holding up two bottles. "I’ve got water… and green tea."

Praemai took one with a dazed expression, inspecting the label.

"No mineral water?"

"Nope. Just plain water bottled by local villagers from the next district. Want it or not?" Tawan shot back, dry as ever.

Praemai gave her a half-pout, half-scowl—but accepted the bottle anyway.

"Jeez… You could just be nice about it, you know."

Tawan ignored the jab entirely.

"Stay here for a sec," she said, pulling out her phone. "I’ve got a quick call to make. Be right back."

.

.

After Tawan stepped out, Praemai stood frozen in the middle of the living room.

She slowly let herself fall back onto the sofa cushion, only to rise again just as slowly, like she wasn’t sure if she should sit or stand—or even what she should be feeling right now.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on a small picture frame sitting beside the sofa. It was a family photo. A simple one. But something about it radiated a warmth she couldn’t quite explain.

She recognized Uncle Arthit instantly, standing next to a kind-faced woman who must have been his wife. In front of them stood two girls. One was tall, straight-haired, and wore thick round glasses. The other had chubby cheeks and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, like she was planning to prank someone the second the shutter clicked.

“That girl with the glasses… Wait, is that Tawan?!”

Praemai muttered to herself, squinting closer.

She didn’t know why—but the photo made her chest tighten just a little.

Looking away from the frame, she drifted toward a modest bookshelf, neatly arranged along the wall.

It held both Thai and English books, some covers worn and faded, but clearly kept with care. As her eyes traveled across the spines, something in the corner caught her eye: a framed certificate, quietly placed, almost as if it didn’t want to be seen.

She bent down and read it slowly.

.

.

.

Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA

This is to certify that

Tawan Attanon

has fulfilled the requirements of the Master of Financial Technology program and is hereby granted all rights and privileges pertaining to said degree.

.

.

Praemai blinked.

“Hold up... She has a master’s in FinTech from MIT!?”

She made a face like she was annoyed—but a tiny, involuntary wow echoed in the back of her mind.

Still, being her, Praemai quickly lifted her chin, unwilling to show even the slightest crack in her pride.

“So what? Big deal…” she scoffed to herself. “If Visuth Tech Group were still around, that overachiever would just be my employee anyway. No matter how smart someone is, they’ll always end up working for the rich. And with enough money, I could hire anyone I want.”

Her voice held that same arrogant air she’d always used—but deep down, it was starting to feel like a defense mechanism.

She imagined herself as a glamorous CEO, snapping her fingers while Tawan ran around, overworked and stressed, her hair frizzing out, eyebrows furrowed, wrinkles forming on her forehead until she needed a Botox emergency.

The mental image made Praemai smile. Her heart lifted for a second.

But that little fantasy flickered and faded just as quickly.

Because the words she'd casually thrown out…

"If Visuth Tech Group were still around..."

…felt like a blade slicing right back at her.

Her expression slowly changed. The sparkle in her eyes dimmed.

Because the truth was… Visuth Tech Group was gone.

No more black credit card.

No chauffeur.

No mansion.

No father wiring money into her account at the start of every month.

She no longer had any of the things that used to define “Praemai Wisutpaisarn.”

And now that the money was gone… she realized—maybe for the first time—

she didn’t really know who she was without it.

Just... nothing.

…