Duangjai Dhevaprom: Kwanruetai

CHAPTER 9

The young woman walked off the floor with a troubled heart, dissatisfied but unable to do anything about it. The more she looked back and saw Phakrat watching her, the more she felt a mix of warmth and cold. She retreated to the bathroom because she wanted some time alone. The fashion show was about to start soon, and Pokket didn't want to miss this important moment. She secretly hoped to meet Arada at the party today after having the chance to talk last week.

The path to the bathroom was quite quiet, as most of the hotel guests had gathered in front of the stage. The young woman had heard that the model walking in the finale tonight was a well-known figure, currently under the spotlight of society. Just as she was about to push the door open, she heard loud arguing coming from inside, so she peeked through the bathroom door. Upon seeing who was making the noise, she froze. Arada was standing there talking to her youngest daughter, dressed in a beautifully tailored silk fabric that befitted the status of a famous fashion house owner, but her face was pale.

"Why is mom doing this? Why does she have to give money to P’Wit?" The speaker's voice was quite loud.

A few days ago, Pokket had just heard her middle daughter scolding Arada about money, including the ownership of the store in JT Center.

"How can I not give it, when Wit is my son? When he is in trouble, I need to help."

"But P’Wit is addicted to gambling. Mom knows that. Soon, he will squander all of your wealth. Arutwit gambles heavily, losing a lot at a time. Just the income from the boutique won't be enough to pay off millions in debt."

"Be a little quieter, Vee. If others hear, it won't be good."

"Who cares? I don't mind," the daughter shrugged.

"Does mom think people won't know that brother Wit is addicted to gambling? Even my friends who studied abroad know it because brother Wit is always borrowing money from this person and that person."

"Vee, I told you not to talk like this. Regardless, Wit is still your real brother."

"A brother who does nothing all day but holds out his hand for mom's money. I don't care. Day by day, he just gets worse. Look at brother Wit's condition now; he looks like a drug addict."

"You've gone too far. Who taught you to speak about your brother like this?" the mother shouted.

"Mom is biased. Mom only loves brother Wit because he is a son," Arovee said, her voice trembling with disappointment.

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

"Then mom needs to hurry and make a will to divide the inheritance. If this continues, soon our family will be left with nothing."

"Vee, I'm not dead yet. Why are you talking about dividing the inheritance?" the mother said.

Counterattack, trembling hands, both eyes reddening even more. Even though Mom Luang Pokket, who happened to witness the incident, is an outsider, it’s clear that Arada must be in great emotional pain.

“It's because Mom is still around that I have to speak up. P’Wan is the same, she already has her own work. Why do they have to take away from their younger sibling? P’Wan also asked for the shop right?”

“Wan just wants a shop in the mall, but the shop in Phahurat, Mom intends to give it to you, my child.”

“But I don't want a shop that is only in debt. I know that Mom took the title deed to borrow money for P’Wit, so it’s just a shell left.”

“But anyway, we still have regular customers. Don’t forget that if it weren’t for this shop, you wouldn’t have gone abroad to study.”

“That’s the past. Nowadays, who wants to tailor clothes? Everyone just wants to buy ready-made clothes. The shop in Phahurat is deteriorating. Once Mom is gone, we’ll have to import clothes from foreign brands to sell instead.”