I turned toward the door, but before leaving, I stopped abruptly.
Rising on my toes, I pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.
"I'll be back soon," I murmured before stepping out of the office.
When I reached my desk, Anamarija was already waiting. She held a printed page in her hands and smiled slightly.
"This is my first time doing this," she admitted. "I'm not sure if I missed anything."
"It's good," I reassured her. "Now I just need to translate everything into Thai."
I opened a new document and started typing.
Anamarija leaned closer, pointing to one line.
"Should we skip this part with the drama princess?" she asked teasingly.
I turned to her, raising a brow. "Wait, you gave her that nickname?"
"Drama princess," she repeated with a grin.
"I like it," I said, smiling. For a moment, the tension of the day faded, and we both laughed quietly.
Then the sound of heels echoed through the hallway—sharp, deliberate, and impossible to mistake.
The entire department fell silent.
Chak's mother entered first, followed by Phalin, carrying a cup of coffee and that all-too-familiar smug smile.
"I think your drama princess just arrived," I whispered to Anamarija.
She hid a smile, and even Suraphon, who was standing nearby, tried to suppress a chuckle.
I pretended to focus on the screen, but my hands hesitated on the keyboard.
Their shadows loomed over us, and the air grew tense — heavy with perfume, authority, and disdain.
Phalin stopped right beside me. "I didn't know the secretary was this helpless," she said mockingly, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "Needing someone to tell him what to write?"
I clenched my jaw, eyes fixed on the screen. She still talks like she owns the place.
"Leave him alone," Anamarija said evenly. Her voice wasn't loud — but it carried power, quiet and firm.
Phalin turned, one eyebrow arching. "And who exactly do you think you are? You don't even work here. Go back where you came from."
Before Anamarija could answer, Amara stepped forward. "That's enough," she snapped. "She has every right to be here. The boss allowed it."
Phalin's smirk widened. "The boss? Really? And why would he do that?"
"Because she's his sister," Amara said confidently.
Phalin blinked in disbelief. "Sister?"
"Half-sister," Chak's mother corrected coldly, her tone like ice.
I caught myself smiling faintly. That's right. His sister.
The pride that swelled inside me wasn't jealousy — it was warmth. She belongs here. She's part of him.
But Chak's mother's gaze turned sharper, slicing through the moment like a blade.
"You shouldn't be here, girl. This isn't your place."
"I'm not here to cause problems," Anamarija replied calmly. "I just didn't like how she treated him."
"Then maybe you should learn to keep quiet," Chak's mother said coldly. "You might share your father blood, but you don't share his discipline."
Anamarija met her eyes, unflinching. "Maybe I don't," she said quietly. "But I know what respect looks like."
That clearly struck a nerve. Chak's mother's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Don't look at me like that," she hissed.
"Like what?" Anamarija asked, frowning slightly.
"That look," she said through clenched teeth. "That same defiant stare your father had — every time he thought he could protect someone."
Her voice trembled slightly. "Don't you dare use it on me."
I glanced at Anamarija. She stood tall, composed, even under Phalin's glare. There was something in her expression — the same quiet strength I'd seen in Chak.
Yes, I thought, she really is his sister.
I noticed a faint blush rising on Anamarija's cheeks.
Phalin crossed her arms, her smirk widening. "If it were up to me, I would've fired you already," she said, looking straight at me.
My hand froze above the keyboard. The words blurred on the screen. She's really enjoying this, isn't she?
Phalin turned to the others, raising her voice so everyone could hear.
"When I get married," she announced proudly, "anyone I don't like will be gone from this company."
A few employees exchanged uneasy glances. The tension in the room grew thick.
"And how exactly will you do that?" Anamarija asked calmly. "Chak won't let you."
Phalin's lips curved into a smug smile. "Oh, he will," she said sweetly. Then, lowering her voice just enough for everyone nearby to hear, she added,
"He always did. Back when we were together."
The words hit me like a slap.
Back when they were… together?
For a moment, everything inside me froze — the sound of keyboards, the air conditioning, even my heartbeat. Something heavy twisted in my chest, spreading like fire beneath my skin.
So that's who she is… his ex.
The heat stung behind my ribs. I forced myself to breathe, but it was like inhaling smoke. Phalin knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes flicked toward me, sharp and amused, as if she wanted me to see her victory.
Anamarija frowned, clearly sensing the shift in my expression. I quickly looked down at my hands, pretending to adjust a paper on my desk.
Don't let her see it, Niran. Don't give her that satisfaction.
But deep down, something dark and jealous was stirring — a storm I couldn't stop.
Phalin's words hung in the air like poison. I could feel every pair of eyes in the office watching, waiting.
Anamarija took a slow breath, trying to stay composed. "I won't let that happen," she said firmly.
Chak's mother turned toward her, her tone sharp as a knife. "You should stay quiet, girl. This is not your place. You have no right to interfere or decide anything here."
Something inside me tightened.
How dare she talk to her like that…
Anamarija pushed back her chair and stood up, her expression calm but her voice steady. "Niran, I will be right back," she said, trying to end the confrontation before it escalated.
But as she took a step forward, Phalin moved slightly — just enough to stretch her foot into Anamarija's path.
It happened fast.
Anamarija stumbled, gasping as she lost balance. I jumped up from my chair just as she started to fall—
—but another hand caught her first.
Chak's mother let out a short, bitter laugh. "And here comes the hero — right on time."
"Careful," Vikran said, his tone cool but protective. He held her steady, his arm firm around her shoulders.
Her hand brushed against his chest, and for a second, time paused — shock in her eyes meeting quiet steadiness in his.
Anamarija blinked in surprise, her face still pale. "Thank you…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Chak's mother tilted her head with disdain. "Hero indeed. How fitting."
Hot liquid splashed across my shirt.
I froze, staring down in shock as brown stains spread across the fabric. The smell of coffee filled the air.
The heat stung my skin — but not as much as the humiliation.
Phalin stood in front of me, her empty cup trembling slightly in her hand — though the smug look in her eyes told me it wasn't an accident.
"Oh," she said sweetly, tilting her head. "My hand slipped."
The entire department went silent.
For a second, no one moved. Then Anamarija's voice cut through the silence — trembling, furious.
"Phalin, what is wrong with you?" she demanded, stepping forward. "Why did you do that? He didn't do anything to you!"
Phalin's eyes glittered with mock innocence. "Because I don't like him," she said coldly. "Just like I don't like you."
Anamarija took another step closer, but before she could say anything more, Chak's mother stepped between them.
"That's enough," she said sharply. "Leave Phalin alone. She didn't hurt him. If she spilled coffee, it was an accident."
Anamarija's lips curved in a small, controlled smile. "Accident, huh? That's what we're calling it now?"
Chak's mother's eyes blazed. "I hate that smile of yours," she hissed.
Anamarija tilted her head slightly, voice quiet but full of grace. "That's fine," she said softly. "It's not meant for you."
Chak's mother's face froze, her jaw tightening in fury.
Phalin tilted her head, her lips curling cruelly. "You don't belong in our world anyway," she said. Then her gaze turned to me. "Just like him."
The heat rose in my chest again, fury flooding my veins.
Phalin smirked. "Maybe next time you'll both learn where you belong."
My chest burned, half from the coffee, half from rage. The silence that followed was unbearable — until his voice broke through it like thunder.