Guilty as Gorgeous | Chapter 7
Athip, her father, had come from a humble family of civil servants, but he was brilliant and diligent, earning his position as a public prosecutor at a young age. After marrying Prayong—the youngest daughter of the venerable Sukonthi lineage—he considered her a "flower from the heavens" who had stooped down to the lowly earth that was his life, despite having suitors far more perfect and wealthy vying for her hand.
The two shared a seamless love, blessed with three daughters born a few years apart. But tragedy eventually tore the head of the family away, forcing his wife and children to move from government housing back to Prayong's old riverside garden house. Prayong herself had succumbed to a year of profound grief and illness before she could finally stand on her own again.
Phutphitchaya didn't know what would have become of her and her sisters if a certain gentleman hadn't stepped in to provide for them.
Bancha Thanaphatwanich was a middle-aged tycoon with deep political connections and immense business wealth. Whatever he touched turned to gold. He was the benefactor who provided food and education for the three girls during their school years, and he took their mother for medical treatments until her condition improved enough for her to begin relying on herself again.
Only a few people knew the true depth of the relationship between her family and Bancha.
Sia Bancha kept several "little houses," despite having four children with his legal wife, Madam Khaekhai: Baramee, Buraphon, Nisakorn, and Sasithorn. The two had married shortly after Bancha finished his studies abroad, a union arranged by their elders to bind the two families and expand their business empires.
Rumors once swirled that the youngest daughter, Sasithorn, was actually born to a mistress named Lalana—a famous actress at the time—which caused a massive rift in the marriage. Although Lalana died in an accident two years later, whispers persisted that it had been orchestrated by the "main house."
The truth remained a mystery, but Madam Khaekhai raised Sasithorn as if she were her own, just like the children she had birthed herself. For over twenty years, no one had dared mention it again. Some said Sasithorn was indeed Khaekhai's daughter; otherwise, she wouldn't have given the girl a name that rhymed with her sister's and shared the same meaning as her own—Khaekhai, meaning the moon.
When her husband had been unfaithful with Lalana and fathered a child, Khaekhai—who was also pregnant at the time—was devastated. She vanished from society for two years, seeing almost no one, only to return around the same time Lalana passed away. These suspicions remained unconfirmed, spoken of only in hushed, fading whispers over time.
From then on, Bancha's tendency to keep multiple mistresses—mostly beautiful women from the entertainment industry—became an open secret among his close friends and associates. Even so, his marital status and public appearances with his legal wife remained normal; to outsiders, the large family appeared warm and stable.
Consequently, the younger generation never questioned the parentage of Bancha's four children.
However, some were aware that Bancha had another eldest son, born of an indiscretion during his student years abroad with an American friend—the result of a wild party. The woman was a spirited socialite, the sole heir to the Beaumont family, business titans in New York. She hadn't truly loved Bancha but refused to destroy the child. She carried the pregnancy to term and allowed Bancha to visit, but the boy remained with her and took her surname.
Bancha never denied it when the bold dared to ask. He had even brought his eldest son to events as a business partner. Yet, few knew the actual blood tie between him and this mixed-race young man.
Certain gossip columns painted Bancha as a lustful tycoon, one who enjoyed indulging in beautiful women his children's age without regard for his family's reputation. And among the actresses on that list... was her. Though no one ever dared to print her name directly.
"Is everyone else asleep?" she asked Suphanniga as her sister walked her to her bedroom.
"Mhm. Mom fell asleep early, she'll probably wake up in a few hours. P'Prae fell asleep around eleven, I think."
"And why are you up studying so late? Isn't it better to wake up and memorize in the morning?"
"I was watching a series too, so I got carried away," the younger girl laughed sheepishly when her head was playfully knocked.
"Go to bed. One of these days, I'll have to call a technician to install an electric remote gate so no one has to get up to open it late at night." The young woman shook her head and ruffled Suphanniga's hair once more before letting her go to sleep.
Entering her private room, the slender figure collapsed onto the edge of the bed. She massaged her temples, caught in a mix of worry and sadness as she thought of Watshon and their shared problems. Before long, she shook it off and rose to strip, preparing for a bath, exhausted to the core.
This Sunday would be her only day off in two months. Her latest drama had just wrapped, and she had to promote it for the station, while also rushing between events and shooting her latest commercial. Another project was waiting to begin filming in just a few days. She had asked Wikrant for at least two or three days of rest, intending to listen to the waves by the sea for a night and spend time resting her head in her mother's lap.
Her mother's health had been poor since her father's death, but she never showed weakness after recovering from the physical and emotional toll of losing her life partner. Prayong might have been a lady of the old world, more concerned with the domestic comfort of her family than herself or the world outside. But to Phutphitchaya and her sisters, Mom was a beautiful "iron flower," always exuding the gentle scent of goodness as an example for her children.
But her mother wasn't a modern woman skilled at raising three daughters alone. She had only ever worked inside the home. When she fell gravely ill from shock and grief, their modest civil servant assets and family gold were sold off once their savings ran dry. Her father's government benefits were withheld due to sabotage and malice. The three young girls had struggled to scrape by. Had Bancha not stepped in after her father's death caused by dark powers, her family would have been in dire straits.
The young woman entered her dressing room, which was filled with built-in cabinets for the clothes, shoes, and accessories she used for events. The room wasn't very large, as many outfits were worn only once. Out of frugality and a desire for a fallback business, she had partnered with Wikrant to open a boutique for rentals and resale, specializing in "mix-and-match" styles for the modern woman.
The shop employed one manager and four regular staff, with her and her manager taking turns to oversee the accounts once or twice a week. When they were busy, Unakarn—the middle sister—would step in to look after things.
Her white hands stripped off her clothes until she was down to her lingerie. She reached for a towel, but the many mirrors in the room caused her sleepy eyes to snap wide. She lifted her fingers to touch her full chest and neck, which were now marked by several red blossoms. The memory she had momentarily suppressed flooded back as if it had just happened.
"Ugh! Damn it!" she muttered to herself, cursing the man who had just ravaged her with pure resentment.
It was lucky her work had just finished. Had it been a normal busy period, she didn't know if layers of concealer and foundation would have been enough to hide these marks. Fuming and frustrated but unable to do anything, she went to shower, washing her hair several times.
Despite being utterly exhausted, she lay in bed tossing and turning for a long time before finally drifting off as she heard her mother rising to prepare the day's food.