Chapter 4: Woraphot’s Secret Plan

In the quiet corner of her small home, Tawan sat at her desk, lost in thought.

Something wouldn’t stop echoing in her mind:

“This... doesn’t add up.”

“Visuth Tech Group, bankrupt?”

She didn’t believe a single word Woraphot had said.

Tawan picked up her phone and started searching for news on Visuth Tech Group’s supposed bankruptcy. She scanned headlines from the past three months—no layoff reports. No asset liquidation. No mention of sustained losses.

Not even a whisper about “cash flow problems.”

Her brows pulled together. She quickly navigated to the Stock Exchange of Thailand’s website, pulling up Visuth Tech Group’s latest quarterly financial reports.

In seconds, the document loaded before her eyes.

She skimmed through the data—revenue. Expenses. Net profit. Assets. Liabilities. Cash flow.

Then she went back and read it again. And again.

“Still profitable. Debt’s down. Positive cash flow...”

Her lips tightened, eyes still locked on the numbers.

“This report looks... normal.”

“Unless it’s been cooked.”

Without hesitation, she tapped her phone and called the one person she knew could answer her questions—Arthit Attanon, her adoptive father and longtime right-hand man to Woraphot Wisutpaisarn. He had worked with Visuth Tech Group his entire life.

The line rang only twice before a calm, familiar voice picked up.

"Yes, Tawan?"

But Tawan wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

"Dad, what’s going on? Visuth Tech Group isn’t bankrupt, is it? Are those reports fake? Was the accounting manipulated? Because I’ve checked everything—there’s nothing unusual in the media, the numbers are clean. What are you and Mr. Woraphot really trying to do? And why lie to Praemai?"

There was a pause.

A long, heavy pause.

Then—a voice she didn’t expect.

"It’s me, Tawan."

Woraphot Wisutpaisarn’s deep, composed voice came through the line. Still calm. Still steady. But this time... there was a faint note of something else.

Regret?

Weariness?

"So… you’ve figured it out."

Tawan’s brows furrowed slightly as she answered, her voice calm and controlled.

“I wouldn’t say I know everything,” she said. “But I do suspect that Visuth Tech Group might not actually be bankrupt. What I don’t understand is—why you’d go to such lengths to lie about it.”

Her fingertip traced slow circles on the surface of her desk—an act of composure that belied the simmering thoughts racing in her mind.

“And even if Visuth Tech really had gone under,” she continued, “the company is legally a separate entity from its owners. Under Thai law, creditors can only claim corporate assets, unless there’s personal liability involved or criminal wrongdoing. So your claim that both you and Praemai are completely ruined—it doesn’t add up.”

A low chuckle echoed from the other end of the line.

“You’re a lot sharper than my daughter, Tawan,” Woraphot said, sounding oddly pleased. “I figured you’d catch on.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, voice tightening just a little.

The truth came casually, with no attempt to soften it.

“Exactly what it sounds like. Visuth Tech Group isn’t bankrupt. I made it up. Fabricated the whole story to teach Praemai a lesson. I sent her abroad for school, and when she came back, she refused to work. All she does is party, shop, and burn money on luxury nonsense.”

Tawan’s eyes widened. The word fabricated rang in her ears like an explosion.

“Mr. Woraphot…” she muttered, nearly speechless. “And then you just sent your daughter to live with me without even telling me?” She paused. A suspicion flickered in her voice. “…Don’t tell me… my father knew about this too?”

Laughter rang out again, this time with unabashed amusement.

“Of course he knew. Arthit helped me plan the whole thing. And the reason I didn’t tell you—was to make it all feel as real as possible for Praemai.”

Tawan let out a long, exasperated sigh, her grip on the phone tightening. She couldn’t believe she’d been roped into some billionaire’s elaborate social experiment.

“Come on, Tawan,” Woraphot said, his tone softening. “Do this for me, just this once. You’ve known Praemai since she was a kid. I admit—I raised her with too much money and not enough sense. I’m not expecting her to turn into someone like you, but one day, when I’m gone… I just want her to be able to survive on her own.”

That last sentence carried the weight of regret, of a father both disappointed and painfully self-aware.

Tawan didn’t respond right away. Her gaze drifted to the window. She took another slow breath, then finally replied, voice even but sincere.

“Alright, Mr. Woraphot. I’ll help. But I’m not making any promises about how much of her… personality I can fix.”

A soft chuckle came through the phone again.

“The fact that you’re even willing—that’s already more than I hoped for. I’m counting on you, Tawan.”

With a tired eye-roll, she ended the call gently, leaned back in her chair, and looked out the window again.

...

After hanging up with Woraphot, Tawan remained seated in her office chair, one arm slung over the backrest as she stared blankly up at the ceiling—utterly drained in both body and spirit.

“This is insane…” she muttered to herself.

“Am I really supposed to babysit that hysterical heiress?”

The corners of her lips tugged into a weary smirk as she lifted a hand to rub her temples, trying in vain to massage the stress from her nerves.

But before she could enjoy even a moment of silence—

a shrill voice shattered the peace like a sledgehammer through glass.

“P’Taaawaaaaan!! Did you seriously bring a woman home to sleep over!?”

Tawan jolted upright.

“OH MY GOD—what did you do to her!? Why is this gorgeous lady crying her eyes out like that!?”

The scream pierced through the closed door, unmistakable and far too familiar.

Tawan could barely believe it.

“Oh no… Narin.”

She groaned, then launched herself out of the chair and half-sprinted toward the living room, bracing herself for another oncoming storm.

And sure enough, the sight that greeted her made her freeze mid-step.

There on the couch, Praemai was curled into a throw pillow, sobbing like a broken sprinkler system.

Tears streamed down her face as if her entire world had collapsed.

Standing beside her was none other than Narin Attanon—Tawan’s younger sister and the only biological daughter of the Attanon family.

Narin’s expression was stricken with over-the-top melodrama, like an actress caught in a primetime soap.

“Tawan!” she gasped.

“What did you do to this poor angel!? Did you make her your girlfriend and now you’re refusing to acknowledge her!? Tell me the truth right now!”

“Oh for the love of—Narin! Can you not make me sound like a criminal!?”

Tawan practically screamed in exasperation as she rushed forward, dragging her sister away from the couch by the arm.

She then pointed at the crying woman.

“That is Praemai Wisutpaisarn, daughter of Mr. Woraphot—Dad’s boss! She is not my girlfriend!”

Narin blinked, once, twice… then gasped like she’d just been hit by a freight train.

“Wait—that’s Praemai Wisutpaisarn!?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I said…” Tawan sighed, long and hard.

She turned toward Praemai, whose tears were still pouring like summer rain.

“Ms. Praemai…”

Tawan said gently as she stepped closer.

“Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Praemai slowly lifted her head, her eyes puffy and red. She took the tissue Tawan offered her, blew her nose loudly, and answered in a voice full of wounded pride:

“I just… feel sorry for myself.”

"Why is that?" Tawan asked gently, her voice calm but cautious. She had no idea what kind of emotional curveball was coming next.

Praemai kept her head down, quietly sniffling for a long moment.

Then she finally looked up again, her voice muffled through the sobs.

"Because… I’m poor now! Huuu-huuu-huuu!"

If it hadn’t been said between genuine, chest-heaving sobs, the line would’ve sounded comical.

Tawan blinked slowly, then brought a hand to her forehead with a sigh of disbelief.

"Sis…" Narin whispered beside her.

"Is this Praemai girl, like… mentally okay? Or has she just been watching too many soap operas?"

"Narin, quiet."

Tawan gave her sister a quick scolding look before turning her eyes back to the pitiful mess sprawled across her sofa.

There she was: the once-glamorous heiress, now clinging to a throw pillow as though it were her last lifeline, tears cascading down her cheeks like her entire world had ended.

Tawan exhaled again—longer this time.

"Ms. Praemai, please… don’t cry."

She tried to comfort her as best she could.

Never in her life had she imagined that this impromptu role—barely 24 hours in—would give her such a massive headache.

And this...

This was only day one.

…

After letting Praemai cry her heart out on the sofa for what felt like forever, her sobs finally began to fade. Her eyes were puffy and swollen—like a panda who hadn’t slept in ten days.

"Are you... feeling any better?"

Tawan asked softly. Her tone wasn’t exactly gentle, but it wasn’t harsh either.

Praemai nodded slowly, like she was afraid even the slightest movement might trigger another wave of tears.

Seeing her calm down, Tawan sighed and gestured toward the young woman who had been sipping tea nearby this whole time, looking like nothing in the world could faze her.

"Okay, let me introduce you to my sister."

She motioned toward the girl with light brown hair and a breezy air about her.

"This is Narin. She’s my younger sister—same age as you, actually. Just got back from a solo backpacking trip across Japan for a full month."

"Wait—what? A girl traveling solo for a whole month?"

Praemai repeated the words as if they were utterly foreign.

"Yup!" Narin answered proudly without missing a beat.

"Hardcore backpacking style. Some nights in hotels, some in hostels. Living the real-life traveler dream!"

Praemai blinked, her eyes flitting between Narin’s comfy T-shirt and sweatpants ensemble and Tawan’s neat rolled-up sleeves and clean-cut suit.

The contrast was... stark.

Not just in style—everything about their energy felt like polar opposites.

"She’s a travel YouTuber," Tawan added flatly.

"Has both a YouTube channel and TikTok. Tens of thousands of followers."

"Excuse you—it’s over a hundred thousand now,"

Narin corrected with a playful shrug, then turned to Praemai with a big grin.

"Nice to meet you, Praemai! I’m super chill. Not uptight like someone else in this house," she teased, throwing a glance at her sister.

Praemai couldn’t help but laugh. Her eyes were still swollen, but the storm had clearly passed.

...Or so they thought.

.

.

"So… what brings you here, Praemai?"

Narin leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Wait a minute—are you two dating?”

"We’re not!"

"Definitely not!"

Praemai and Tawan spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping like they’d rehearsed it. One of them flushed bright red; the other let out a long sigh, clearly out of patience.

“It’s a long story, Narin,” Tawan said quickly. “But the short version is—Praemai will be staying with us for a while.”

Narin nodded as if she understood, though the glint of curiosity in her eyes said otherwise. And true to form, she couldn’t sit with that curiosity for long. She leaned in close to Praemai again, whispering eagerly.

“If she won’t spill, then you tell me—when did you two start dating? Come on, I want the full scoop!”

“Narin!” Tawan snapped, her tone sharp.

“Oh come on, sis! I was joking!”

Narin raised her hands innocently, laughing in that mischievous way of hers.

The room fell quiet for a moment before Tawan spoke again.

“There’s a spare bedroom here,” she said. “I’ll have it cleaned tomorrow, so you can use it then. For now, though…”

Praemai stiffened slightly, glancing at her warily. Her face, still blotchy from crying, shifted to something far more suspicious.

“So… where am I sleeping tonight?”

Tawan raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed.

“In my room, of course.”

Praemai’s eyes went wide. She took an instinctive step back, then turned sharply to Narin like she was reaching for a last lifeline.

“In that case… I’ll sleep in your room, Narin.”

Narin practically jumped.

“Oops!—sorry, no can do, Praemai. I’ve got to edit a ton of footage from my Japan trip tonight. Total focus mode. And I replay the audio clips on loop while I work. You’d never get a wink of sleep.”

Praemai looked like the world was ending.

“You don’t need to make that face,” Tawan said dryly. “If you really don’t want to share my room, there’s another option.”

She pointed casually toward the long couch in the living room.

“That sofa’s top-quality. Won’t wreck your back. You’ll sleep like a baby… unless a burglar breaks in. In that case, they’ll find you first.”

Praemai turned her head, horrified. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?!”

Tawan shrugged with her usual calm, though her eyes gleamed with suppressed amusement.

“Believe whatever helps you sleep tonight.”

In the end, Praemai had no choice but to follow Tawan to the bedroom, her expression the picture of reluctant doom.

Meanwhile, Narin stifled a laugh, whispering to herself with a grin.

“There’s no way this night ends without drama.”

…

The bathroom door creaked open slowly. A wave of warm steam drifted out, carrying with it the soft scent of shampoo that lingered in the air.

Praemai stepped out, dressed in a delicate cream satin pajama set. Her long hair, still damp, clung to her shoulders as she gently patted it dry with a small towel. Her face, bare of makeup, revealed a raw, natural beauty—large round eyes still puffy and red from crying earlier, giving her the look of a kitten caught in a storm.

Tawan was seated at the edge of the bed near the window, a laptop resting on her lap. When she glanced up and saw the figure emerging from the bathroom, she froze for a second.

...Even with no makeup, she's stunning.

The thought passed through her mind before she could stop it. Slightly rattled by the realization, Tawan quickly returned her gaze to the laptop screen, masking her expression as if nothing had happened.

Praemai walked over and stood beside the bed. It was a standard-sized bed—comfortable for one person, but definitely tight for two.

She hesitated, her brows furrowing as she eyed the narrow space. After a pause, she finally spoke, her voice soft but clear.

“Do you have a floor mattress or something?”

Tawan looked up from her screen, puzzled.

“Why? You planning to sleep on the floor?”

Praemai blinked, her expression shifting into one of innocent disbelief.

“No,” she replied coolly, completely deadpan. “You are. I’m taking the bed.”

Tawan paused for a beat, then closed her laptop and set it down beside her. Her expression changed subtly—still calm, but now clearly tinged with impatience.

“Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You want the homeowner to sleep on the floor?”

“Well,” Praemai replied, raising her voice slightly, her wide eyes flashing with entitlement, “You are the one my father asked to take care of me, aren’t you? Isn’t that your responsibility?”

“My responsibility,” Tawan said evenly, “is to take care of you. Not to serve you.”

With that, she stood up abruptly. Her arms crossed and her tone sharpened, though her voice remained even. Her eyes, however, were anything but gentle.

“Let me teach you something, Praemai,” she said firmly. “Lesson one: If you’re living under someone else’s roof... try not to act like a princess.”

Before Praemai could even respond, Tawan turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

But less than five minutes later, she returned—carrying something that made the former heiress gape in disbelief.

A full set of floor bedding.

A proper Thai-style piknik mattress.

Tawan didn’t say a word.

She walked calmly to the empty space beside the bed and began laying out the floor mattress with practiced ease—spreading the sheet, fluffing the blanket, and placing a small pillow at the head. When she stood back up to her full height, one hand on her hip, she made her announcement in a cool, even voice:

“You’ll be sleeping on the floor. I’m the homeowner. I’m sleeping in my bed.”

Praemai’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“What... are you—!?”

She could barely get the words out, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

Tawan calmly raised her index finger, motioning for silence like a tired elementary school teacher dealing with a loud student.

“This is the result of your high-maintenance attitude. You’re staying in someone else’s home. The least you could do is show a little basic courtesy. You know—manners. The kind that ‘well-bred’ people are supposed to have. Which, clearly, you don’t.”

“You’re calling me rude?” Praemai squeaked, her voice pitching higher with disbelief.

Tawan shrugged without a hint of remorse.

"Don’t call what I said an insult or a scolding," she said coolly. "Let’s just say I was educating you—like they say on Twitter."

Praemai bit her lower lip hard, her face scrunching in pure frustration. She glanced around the room, considering her rapidly dwindling options—either the sofa or the floor mattress.

In the end, she slumped down onto the floor bed with a melodramatic sigh of defeat. But she couldn’t help grumbling under her breath:

"The moment I get rich again... you're the first one I'm coming for.”

Tawan heard what Praemai said, but she didn’t bother to respond.

She simply reached out and flicked the light switch. The room dimmed, lit only by the faint glow from outside the window.

In the darkness, she peeked down at the curled-up figure on the mattress beside her bed.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips—something she didn’t bother to hide.

Tonight... she was definitely going to sleep well... maybe.

…