Dhevaprom: Kwanruetai

Chapter 9

The young woman walked off the dance floor, feeling unsettled and frustrated, yet unable to do anything about it. Glancing back and seeing that Pakrat was watching her, she felt a chill mixed with unease. Wanting some time alone, she slipped away to the restroom. The fashion show would start soon, and Pakkate didn't want to miss the crucial moment. She secretly hoped to see Arada at the party today after their conversation last week.

The hallway to the restroom was quiet since most of the hotel guests had already gathered in front of the stage. Pakkate had heard that the model set to close the show tonight was someone well-known and currently in the social spotlight. Just as she was about to push open the door, she overheard a heated exchange and paused to peek through the restroom door.

She froze upon recognizing the voices.

Arada was standing there talking with her youngest daughter, dressed in an elegantly tailored silk outfit befitting the owner of a renowned fashion house. But her face was pale.

"Why did you do this, Mom? Why did you have to give money to Vit?" her daughter said, her tone quite loud. Just a few days ago, Pakkate had overheard the middle daughter confronting Arada about money and the ownership rights to the store at JT Center.

"How could I not help, when Vit is my son? He's in trouble, and I have to support him," Arada replied.

"But Vit is addicted to gambling. You know that, Mom. It won't be long before he squanders everything."

Aratawit had a serious gambling problem, often losing large sums. The fashion house's income alone couldn't possibly cover debts amounting to millions.

"Keep your voice down, Oi. We don't want anyone else to hear this."

"Let them hear, I don't care." Her daughter shrugged. "Do you really think people don't know about Vit's gambling? Even my friends abroad know because he's been borrowing money from everyone."

"Oi, I've told you not to speak like this. No matter what, Vit is still your brother."

"A brother who doesn't work, just holds out his hand for money from you. I don't care. Look at him now – he's practically like an addict."

"That's enough. Who taught you to speak about your brother this way?" Arada shouted.

"You're biased. You only love Vit because he's your son," Oravee's voice trembled with hurt.

"What are you saying? I love all three of you equally."

"Soon, we'll all be left with nothing."

"Oi, I'm still alive. Why are you talking about inheritance already?" her mother replied, looking shaken.

"If you're still alive, then you should make a will to divide the assets. If things continue like this..." Oi countered, her hands trembling, her eyes red with frustration. Pakkate, who happened to witness the scene, could see that Arada was deeply hurt.

"That's exactly why I'm bringing it up while you're still here. Wan is the same way, isn't she? She has her own job but still wants a piece of the inheritance. Didn't she ask for the store from you, too?" Oi knew her older sister, Wan, had.

"Wan only wanted the store at the mall, but the one at Phahurat, I intend to give to you."

"But I don't want a store that's riddled with debt. I know you mortgaged it to bail Vit out. It's nothing but an empty shell now."

"But we still have loyal customers. Don't forget that without this store, you wouldn't have been able to study abroad."

"That was in the past. Who wants to tailor clothes anymore? Everyone buys ready-made clothes these days. The Phahurat store is falling apart, and once you're gone, we'll have to import branded clothes instead."