Chapter Text
The morning sun cut through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the high-rise office, casting long, sharp shadows across the polished teak conference table. Located in the heart of Bangkok’s bustling business district, the law firm of Pattranite & Associates carried a reputation as heavy as the dark wood panels lining its corridors. For Love, however, it wasn’t just a prestigious workplace : it was her parents' legacy, and today, it was just another day. At 26-years-old, she was already one of the most famous lawyer of the city while still working for her parent’s firm.
Love adjusted her blazer, her expression a mask of calm professionalism as she leaned forward, looking across the table at her current client, Mr. Kittisiri. He was a middle-aged real estate mogul whose knuckles were white from gripping his expensive leather briefcase. For the past two hours, they had been locked in a grueling negotiation over a breach of contract that threatened to halt a multi-million-baht condominium project.
"So, Mr. Kittisiri, as we’ve outlined in section four," Love said, her voice smooth, steady, and carrying the precise amount of authority needed to quiet his visible anxiety. "The opposition has no legal ground to enforce the injunction. We have documented their failure to meet the secondary construction deadlines twice. If they push this to court, they’ll lose. If they settle now under our terms, they’ll save face."
Mr. Kittisiri blinked, looking at the neatly organized files Love had laid out. "And you're certain they will blink first, Khun Pattranite ?"
"They don't have a choice," Love replied, offering a reassuring, polished smile that had disarmed many opposing counsels throughout her rapidly rising career. "I’ve already forwarded the draft of the revised settlement to their legal team. By tomorrow morning, I expect a signature. You can rest easy."
The relief that washed over the man’s face was palpable. He let out a long breath, finally letting go of his briefcase to shake Love’s hand. "Thank you, Khun. Your parents truly raised a genius. I don't know what I would have done if this leaked to the press."
"It's my job to ensure it doesn't. Have a pleasant afternoon, Mr. Kittisiri."
Love stood up, walking him to the heavy double doors of the conference room. Once he stepped out and the doors clicked shut, the professional mask slipped just a fraction. She let out a soft sigh, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension that had built up in her neck. It was only eleven in the morning, and she already felt the creeping weight of exhaustion behind her eyes.
Returning to her private office, Love sank into her ergonomic leather chair. The room was quiet, shielded from the frantic hum of the rest of the firm. She pulled her laptop closer, flipping it open with a practiced motion. Before diving into the mountain of emails waiting for her response, she decided to grant herself a brief five-minute reprieve.
She opened a major Thai news portal, scrolling through the headlines to clear her mind. The front page was a chaotic mosaic of typical Bangkok life: an article detailing the worsening seasonal smog over the city, a lighthearted piece about a celebrity couple supposedly breaking up at a high-end mall in Sukhumvit, and a lengthy report on a new light rail transit line extension that was already months behind schedule.
Her fingers tracked lazily over the trackpad until her eyes caught a headline further down the page, tucked beneath the regional crime and accident section.
“Fatal collision on rural outskirts of Bangkok: one dead, child survives.”
Love clicked on the article, her eyes scanning the text out of professional curiosity more than anything else. The accident had occurred a few nights ago on a dimly lit, narrow stretch of road just beyond the city limits. According to the report, a luxury vehicle had collided heavily with a small delivery sedan. The delivery worker, a thirty-two-year-old father, had tragically died on impact. However, his young child, who had been riding in the passenger seat, miraculously survived the crash with non-life-threatening injuries and was currently recovering in a local hospital. The report noted that the driver of the luxury vehicle had remained at the scene and was immediately taken into police custody for questioning.
A faint shiver passed through Love as she looked at the pixelated image of the wreckage. It was a sobering reminder of how fragile life could be, especially on the treacherous roads during the rainy season. She shook her head, closing the tab to distance herself from the grim reality of the story, and returned to her inbox.
Before she could click on her first email, the door to her office burst open without a preliminary knock.
"Well, well, look who finally decided to join the land of the living," a vibrant, teasing voice called out.
Love looked up to see Namtan walking in, carrying two iced lattes. Namtan was Love’s dearest friend, her longtime confidante, and a brilliant lawyer in her own right who worked just a few doors down the hall.
"Namtan, please tell me one of those is for me," Love groaned, leaning back and reaching out a hand.
"Of course it is. I'm a saint," Namtan said, sliding the plastic cup across the desk before taking a seat in one of the plush chairs opposite Love. She crossed her legs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, are you going to finally tell me where you vanished to the other night? Or do I have to file a formal discovery request?"
Love took a long, grateful sip of the iced coffee, the caffeine hitting her system instantly. At Namtan's question, however, a sudden jolt of hidden panic shot straight through her.
Internally, Love's mind raced. The truth was deeply unsettling and she hadn't even admitted it to herself yet. She genuinely had no idea how or when she had left that party. It was Namtan's girlfriend's birthday, and Love remembered arriving, taking a few drinks, and then... a total, terrifying blank. The next thing she knew, she had woken up safely in her own bed the following morning with a splitting headache, her keys on the counter, her car parked, and her clothes perfectly folded. She had completely blacked out, a frightening first for someone who pridefully maintained absolute control over her life.
But outwardly, Love didn't let a single flicker of doubt cross her face. She played it entirely cool, leaning back in her chair with a smooth, dismissive chuckle.
"Oh, come on, Namtan. You know how I get when the music gets too loud," Love said smoothly, waving a hand in the air with a practiced shrug. "I was exhausted from the workweek, and I knew I had a mountain of filings waiting for me the next morning. I just slipped out quietly before midnight so I wouldn't ruin the vibe for everyone else. I went straight home and crashed."
Namtan stared at her for a second, testing the explanation, before rolling her eyes playfully. "Classic Love Pattranite. A total party pooper. You really need to learn how to live a little outside of this office. If your parents found out their star attorney skips out on celebrations just to dream about contracts, they’d probably applaud you, actually."
"Which is exactly why we're going to change the subject," Love replied with a sharp, charming grin, successfully steering the conversation away from her missing memories.
"Fair enough," Namtan said, her playful demeanor shifting, turning more serious as she leaned forward. "But speaking of your parents... and business... you have a situation this afternoon."
Love frowned, setting her coffee down. "A situation? My schedule is clear until three."
"Not anymore," Namtan said softly. "Someone very important called the main line directly this morning. They didn't go through the standard screening process; they bypassed the junior partners entirely. They were incredibly insistent, demanding that they see you, specifically, this afternoon. They wouldn't give the receptionist the exact nature of the case, only that it was an absolute emergency and required the firm's absolute discretion."
Love raised an eyebrow. "Did they leave a name?"
"The assistant took down the family name, but your dad’s secretary flagged it immediately and moved it straight to your calendar. She said it’s someone your parents have deep ties with," Namtan explained, handing over a small sticky note with a time scribbled on it. "One o'clock. In the main conference room."
Love looked at the note, a vague sense of unease settling in her chest. "Alright. If they're being this urgent, I'll take it. Thanks for the heads-up."
The rest of Love's morning passed in a blur of routine paperwork. She tried to focus on her filings, but her mind kept drifting back to her blank memory from a few nights ago, interspersed with curiosity about who this mysterious afternoon client could be.
At noon, her assistant, Mim, walked in carrying a tray of food from the café downstairs. Mim was a bright, perpetually cheerful young woman who kept Love's professional life from collapsing into chaos.
"Lunch is served, Boss," Mim announced cheerfully, setting down a plate of fragrant basil fried rice with a crispy egg on top. "I made sure they put extra chili, just the way you like it."
"Mim, you are a lifesaver," Love said, pushing her laptop aside. "Sit down for a minute. Have you eaten?"
"I grabbed a sandwich on the way up," Mim said, sitting down and pulling out her tablet to review the afternoon schedule. "Just a reminder, you have that high-priority consultation at one. I've cleared your calls for the rest of the afternoon just in case it runs long."
"Good call," Love said between bites of her lunch. "Did the client send over any preliminary documents? A case file? Anything?"
Mim shook her head, looking genuinely puzzled. "No, nothing at all. It's completely off the books. Whoever they are, they’re keeping everything locked down tight. It’s all very mysterious."
Love chewed thoughtfully, the unease from earlier returning. In her line of work, total secrecy before a meeting usually meant one of two things: a massive corporate merger that could manipulate the stock market if leaked, or a massive scandal that could ruin lives. Given the insistence and the family connection, she was heavily leaning toward the latter.
By 12:55 PM, Love had finished her lunch, touched up her makeup, and gathered a fresh yellow legal pad and her favorite fountain pen. She smoothed down her skirt, took a deep breath, and walked down the quiet corridor toward the main executive conference room.
When she reached the heavy, frosted-glass doors, she paused for a fraction of a second to compose herself, embodying the fierce, unshakable attorney her clients paid fortunes for. She turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The room was occupied by three people. Standing near the window were an older man and woman, impeccably dressed in tailored, expensive clothing that practically radiated old-money influence. Love recognized them instantly. They were the Siripong family, longtime, prominent friends of her parents and major figures in Bangkok's elite social circles.
But it was the third person in the room who caught and held Love’s attention.
Sitting at the far end of the long conference table, bathed in the sharp light from the window, was a young woman. She was exceptionally tall, with a striking, elegant frame that was currently hunched over as if she were trying to make herself invisible. Her long dark hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face, but Love knew exactly who she was.
It was Milk.
Milk was the oldest child of the Siripong family, slightly older than Love herself. Growing up, Love’s parents had dragged her to countless elite galas and charity dinners, events where the children of Bangkok’s wealthy elite were expected to mingle and form connections. Yet, while Milk’s younger sister, Bonnie, was always front and center, charming the guests, Milk had been a phantom. Love remembered her as a quiet, distant figure who rarely attended the family events, and when she did, she usually stood in the shadows, watching the world with an unreadable, detached intensity. From what she remembers, they had never spoken more than a handful of polite, superficial words to each other in their entire childhood.
As Love entered, Milk didn't look up. She kept her eyes glued to the dark wood of the table, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.
"Ahn, Love, darling," Milk’s mother, Mrs. Siripong, spoke up immediately, her voice dripping with an artificial, practiced warmth as she stepped forward to greet her. She reached out, pressing her manicured hands against Love’s forearms in a tight, almost suffocating gesture of familiarity. "Thank you so much for seeing us on such short notice. We knew we could count on you."
"Auntie, Uncle," Love replied politely, offering a respectful wai as she stepped back slightly to maintain her professional boundary. "It's good to see you. Please, take a seat. My assistant mentioned it was an urgent matter. How can Pattranite & Associates help you today?"
Mr. Siripong walked over, his face grim and hardened, completely devoid of the jovial wealthy-patriarch persona he usually adopted at social gatherings. He pulled out a chair for his wife and then sat down beside her, directly across from Love. Milk remained seated at the end of the table, completely motionless, like a beautiful marble statue trapped in profound silence.
Love sat down at the head of the table, uncapping her pen. "What seems to be the problem?"
Mr. Siripong leaned forward, lowering his voice to a low, gravelly whisper that barely carried across the room. "We need your absolute, undivided attention, Love. And we need your complete, legally bound discretion. What we are about to tell you cannot leave this room. Not to your colleagues, not to your assistants, and not even to your parents. Not yet."
Love’s expression sharpened. She glanced at Milk, who still hadn't moved an inch, her gaze fixed entirely on her own lap. "As an attorney, attorney-client privilege protects everything you say to me. You have my word. What is going on?"
Mrs. Siripong let out a shaky, dramatic breath, reaching into her designer handbag for a silk handkerchief. "It's about Milk. A few nights ago... there was an incident. An accident."
Love felt a sudden, inexplicable drop in her stomach. A strange, fleeting sensation of deja vu washed over her, though she couldn't pinpoint why. "An accident?"
"A fatal car crash," Mr. Siripong stated coldly, cutting through his wife's theatrical distress. He didn't mince his words. "On a small rural road just outside Bangkok. Milk was driving. Her vehicle collided with a delivery sedan. The driver of the other vehicle did not survive, though a child passenger in the car did. Milk didn't run. She stayed right there at the scene until the authorities arrived."
The words echoed in the quiet conference room, hitting Love like a physical blow. Her mind instantly flashed back to the news article she had read just hours prior on her laptop. A small road near Bangkok. A few days ago. The driver died, a child survived, and the other driver was detained.
Love looked over at Milk. The tall girl didn't flinch, didn't cry, and didn't offer a single bit of emotions. She sat there, drowning in her own silence, her shoulders tense beneath her oversized linen shirt.
"She was taken straight to the police station," Mr. Siripong continued, his tone clinical. "As soon as we were notified, we stepped in. We used our connections and substantial resources to secure her immediate bail and keep her out of a holding cell, but the legal wheels are already turning. We've managed to temporarily suppress the heaviest media coverage, keeping her name out of the headlines for now, but it’s only a matter of time before the press links our family to the case."
"We need the best legal defense money can buy," Mr. Siripong said, his eyes locking onto Love with an intense, suffocating pressure. "But more than that, we need someone we can trust completely. Someone who understands what is at stake here. Our family's reputation, our businesses, our standing in society : everything is on the line. A public scandal of this magnitude would destroy us. We looked at all the top criminal defense lawyers in the country, but they are vultures. They leak information for publicity. You, Love... you are brilliant, you are ruthless in court, and most importantly, you are family."
Love looked at the couple, then back at Milk. The silence coming from the girl was deafening. It felt unnatural. Usually, a client facing a potential vehicular manslaughter charge would be frantic, weeping, or desperately trying to defend themselves. But Milk was entirely hollow, offering nothing, even though she had stayed at the scene and faced the police directly.
"Uncle, a fatal accident with a surviving child passenger is an incredibly severe criminal charge," Love said cautiously, choosing her words with extreme care. "Even if she stayed at the scene and you've posted bail, the prosecution is going to push hard for significant prison time, regardless of family influence. The public sympathy for the surviving child will make the court very harsh on a wealthy family."
Mr. Siripong’s expression shifted. The polite, desperate family friend vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating man of immense power. He leaned back in his chair, a dark, dangerous smile playing on his lips.
"We are well aware of the risks, Love. Which is why you are going to take this case, and you are going to win it. Or at the very least, ensure Milk never steps foot inside a prison cell."
"I will have to review the evidence before I can promise—"
"You misunderstand me," Mr. Siripong interrupted, his voice dropping to a chilling, venomous register. "This isn't a request, Love. This is an absolute necessity. For both of our families."
Love froze, her pen hovering over her legal pad. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Your parents' firm is built on the backing of investors and clients like us," Mr. Siripong said smoothly, the threat veiled in velvet but entirely lethal. "We have shared business ventures, offshore accounts, and mutual interests that span decades. If the Siripong name falls into a scandalous, ruinous trial, we will not go down alone. We will ensure that every single piece of dirty laundry, every questionable transaction, and every elite secret your parents have swept under the rug over the last thirty years comes to light with us. If we fall, Love... Pattranite & Associates falls with us. Your parents' legacy will be completely obliterated by the end of the week."
A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the room. Love felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands grew cold. She looked at the man she had called 'Uncle' her entire life, realizing with absolute clarity that the world of the Bangkok elite was a viper's nest, and she had just been backed into a corner with no escape. They were holding her parents' life's work hostage.
She glanced at Milk, desperate to see some flash of remorse, some sign of what really happened from the girl who was causing all of this. But Milk remained a ghost, staring down at her tightly locked hands, completely silent, refusing to meet Love's eyes.
"The police are fast-tracking the formal indictment now that the bail is processed," Mr. Siripong continued, completely unfazed by the terror he had just instilled in Love. "Because of our legal maneuvers, we've managed to secure a strict timeline. The trial is set in exactly four months. You have four months to build an airtight defense, manage the evidence, or find a loophole to get Milk acquitted."
Love took a slow, shuddering breath, forcing her racing heart to slow down. She looked down at her yellow notepad, where she had written the details of the crash. Four months. She had four months to handle a high-profile fatal case involving a surviving child, while carrying the entire weight of her family’s survival on her shoulders.
She looked up, her eyes hardening as she locked eyes with Mr. Siripong, her professional resolve transforming into a shield.
"I will need full, unrestricted access to the police report from her initial detention, and a complete list of any witnesses," Love said, her voice dropping into a cold, clinical tone. "If I am going to defend your daughter, I need to know every single detail. No lies, no secrets."
"You will have everything you need," Mr. Siripong replied, his demeanor instantly shifting back to a polite, satisfied smile. "We knew we could rely on your talent, Love."
Throughout the entire exchange, from the terrifying threats to the finalization of the defense agreement, Milk never spoke a single word. She simply sat at the edge of the room, a silent enigma wrapped in a deadly secret, while Love could only wonder what kind of storm she had just agreed to walk into.