Chapter Text
Chapter 6
Poom’s sharp gaze skimmed over the neatly stacked documents before him, his fingers lazily tapping against the desk in barely contained frustration. Another batch of candidates, another set of profiles that failed to meet the standard. Not a single one stood out—not in the way that mattered. He sighed, the sound laced with exasperation as he leaned back, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension creeping in.
Hmm. Freen, darling, this is going to cost you. He murmured the thought like a promise, lips curving into a smirk. A Valentino clutch? No—a belt. The latest one, of course. And obscenely expensive. He chuckled to himself, already mentally selecting which one he’d make her buy as compensation for this headache.
Ever since Freen confessed her desire to have a child, Poom had been nothing short of thrilled for her. Supportive, protective, a pillar at her side. If this was the missing piece—the one thing that could finally soothe the void she carried—then he was determined to help her find it. But then came Miss 10.
His fingers stilled. I t had been a while since someone made Freen smile like that.
And yet, she dismissed it. Dismissed the possibility of joy, of companionship, of something real like Love. Instead, she sought out temporary distractions, fleeting indulgences— Playthings . Poom exhaled sharply through his nose. Of course he knew about it. He wasn’t just her friend; he was her top executive, her confidant, her shield against vultures and business rival predators who would twist such knowledge for their gain. His eyes and ears were everywhere.
He never judged her—not once—but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry. That he didn’t wish, deep down, that she’d finally chase something real.
His thoughts splintered when the receiver rang, its shrill tone slicing through the room. He grabbed it, lifting it to his ear with practiced ease.
“Yes. What do you have for me?” His voice was steady, cool, but as the conversation unfurled, his grip tightened just slightly. Intense.
He sat back, inhaling deeply before exhaling through his nose. “Alright. Don’t make any moves yet. Stay put. Observe and get me more information. I’ll get back to you.”
The line went dead. Poom remained still for a beat, letting the weight of it settle.
This is getting interesting.
********
Two weeks had passed since Becky was fired from Vital. Fourteen days of tears, of unanswered questions, of dreams slipping through her fingers like sand.
She had cried until exhaustion left her hollow, unable to process how everything she had worked for had disappeared so suddenly. She had appealed, begged for another chance—shut down. Just like that.
It was over.
A familiar warmth enveloped her, strong arms pulling her close. Shup . Her childhood friend, her anchor.
“Beck, let it all out, okay? I’m here.”
The words were gentle, solid, a reassurance that she wasn’t alone. Becky clung to them, sinking into the comfort, letting grief spill freely.
“ Can you please drink some water?”
Shup’s voice was soft, laced with concern, as she reached for the glass, pressing it into Becky’s hands. The cool surface felt foreign against her fingertips, but she obeyed, taking a small sip.
Her throat tightened. Her voice cracked.
“Shup… what now? What can I do? I can’t get another job as a physiotherapist with this tainted record.”
Her sadness weighed heavy in the air, thick with despair.
Shup didn’t hesitate. Didn’t falter.
“There is always a way, Beck. This setback will create a greater comeback for you.”
The words didn’t erase the pain, but they planted something small. A spark. A possibility.
********
Becky kept herself busy, scrolling through endless job postings on her laptop, hoping—just hoping—something would finally fall into place. But each time she felt close to landing a position, something always seemed to go wrong. Another rejection. Another door quietly closing.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair, willing herself to stay hopeful. Don’t give up, Beck. She repeated the thought like a mantra, gripping onto whatever resolve she had left.
Lost in the flickering screen, she almost didn’t notice her phone light up beside her. A message. Nam.
Nam: Beck, how are you? We’re worried about you. It’s been weeks now, and I was hoping we could meet up. Grace and I want to see you.
Beck: I’m getting by. Thanks for asking. Sure—how about the coffee shop we always go to?
Nam: That’s great! This Friday good? See you then.
Becky stared at the screen for a moment, the weight in her chest easing just a little. A familiar place. Familiar faces. Maybe a break was exactly what she needed.
Friday.
The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around Becky the moment she stepped inside. The café was lively, filled with chatter and clinking cups, but her focus narrowed the second she spotted them—Nam and Grace, tucked into a corner booth.
“Beck, over here!”
Nam’s smile was warm, relief evident in her eyes. Grace, standing just behind, offered a softer, reassuring smile.
As Becky approached, Nam wasted no time, pulling her into a tight, fierce hug—one that carried unspoken words, quiet worry.
“Beck, we missed you. I was so sad about what happened.” Nam’s voice wavered, her eyes glistening just slightly.
Grace studied Becky carefully before asking, “How are you?”
Becky swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I’m good, guys. So… how’s everything?” Her words were careful, hesitant.
Nam sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not the same without you. A lot of the clients keep asking for you.” Then, her voice dropped lower, filled with doubt. “I don’t believe what they’re saying, Beck. I think there’s something more.”
Becky’s chest tightened, but she exhaled, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I just want to move on. So, let’s just order.” Her voice was quiet, resigned.
Grace exchanged a glance with Nam, concern lingering, but neither pushed further. Instead, they nodded—giving Becky space, even when they wished they could do more.
********
2 weeks later
Becky’s forehead creased as her laptop chimed with a new email notification. Her fingers hesitated above the trackpad before she clicked it open.
Subject: Job Offer – Medical Consultant Position
Dear Miss Armstrong,
We are pleased to extend an invitation for a job offer as a Medical Consultant with our organization. The details of the role, including responsibilities and compensation, will be discussed in person at our offices.
This is a one-time offer, and we encourage you to confirm your interest by clicking the “Agree” button. Please ensure your timely arrival, as punctuality is essential, and business attire is required for the meeting.
Should you have any questions or require further details before your visit, please do not hesitate to contact us.
We look forward to meeting you.
Best regards,
Poom Isarabhakdi
Chief Operating Officer
SC Industries
Becky stared at the screen, reading the email twice as if she had misunderstood. SC Industries? Had she applied there?
She grabbed her phone and quickly dialed Shup.
“Are you busy?” Becky asked, voice uncertain.
“Nothing much—what’s up?” Shup replied.
Becky exhaled. “I got an email about a job offer.” Hesitation laced her tone.
“Oh my gosh! Beck, that’s amazing! I told you you’d get an offer soon.” Shup’s excitement radiated through the phone, but Becky’s thoughts remained tangled. SC Industries… How?
“Beck, this could be a blessing! Why not give it a try? It wouldn’t hurt, right?” Shup’s words were light but firm, nudging Becky toward a decision.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Maybe it was worth a shot.
“Okay... I mean, why not?”
With a steady breath, she hovered over the screen and clicked “Agree.”
********
Becky was in awe as she stepped into the modernized building. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting, while large, meticulously placed sculptures added an air of prestige. Impeccable taste.
"Wow," was all she could mutter under her breath.
Following the instructions in her confirmation email, she approached the receptionist’s desk.
“Uh—hi. I’m Rebecca Armstrong, and I have an appointment with Mr. Poom Isarabhakdi,” Becky said politely.
The receptionist gave a small nod. “Just a moment, Miss Armstrong.” She picked up the phone, speaking in a calm, professional tone. “Sir, she’s here. Shall I send her in?” A brief pause. “Understood, I’ll send her up now.”
She turned to Becky with a welcoming gesture. “Miss Armstrong, please come with me.”
Becky followed her past the main elevator she had spotted earlier. But instead of stopping there, she was led toward a single, sleek elevator tucked at the side of the building.
“Isn’t that the elevator section?” Becky inquired, puzzled.
“Yes, ma’am, but for most of the employees,” the receptionist clarified. Her tone remained polite, measured. “Sir Poom specifically requested that you take the private executive elevator.”
Becky’s brows lifted slightly. Special treatment? She hadn’t expected that. What kind of medical consultancy were they really looking for?
At the elevator doors, an attendant stood waiting inside. The receptionist turned to him. “Please take her to the COO’s office.”
The operator nodded, then motioned Becky inside.
“Right this way, ma’am.”
As the doors slid open on her floor, Becky’s breath hitched. The space before her was a masterpiece—modernized yet distinctly lavish. Elegant furniture, rich textures, and a premium ambiance that exuded exclusivity.
A second receptionist greeted her with a smile. “Hello, Miss Armstrong. Please come inside.” She guided Becky toward an imposing black wooden door, its surface adorned with intricate embellishments.
The door opened.
And there he stood.
A striking man—tall, fair-skinned, effortlessly handsome . Yet what truly stood out was his style. Every detail, from his crisp, tailored ensemble to his refined grooming, spoke of someone who understood influence. Power, but understated.
“Hi, Miss Armstrong—or can I call you Rebecca?” His voice was warm, yet carried a quiet authority.
Becky smiled. “Becky would be fine.”
"Okay then… Have a seat, Becky."
Poom’s voice was calm, deliberate, as he gestured toward the chair across from him. “First, thank you for agreeing to meet me. With that, I’ll be direct. I’m a businessman—I deal with major corporations, high-stakes investments. What I’m about to offer is a one-time opportunity, something that might just change your life.”
Becky sat cautiously, her brows drawing together in confusion. His tone held weight, yet something felt off.
“The medical consultancy?" Poom continued, leaning slightly forward. “That was just a ploy to get you here.”
Becky blinked. What?
She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t give her the chance.
“The real role we’re hiring you for is to be…” Poom paused, studying her reaction. “…a surrogate mother.”
Silence.
Becky’s breath hitched, her pulse pounding in her ears. Had she heard that right?
Her fingers curled instinctively against the armrest as she stared at him, utterly speechless. What the hell kind of offer was this?
“I know you’re shocked,” Poom admitted, keeping his tone measured. “But let me explain the compensation. Upon completion, you will receive 3 million baht. If complications arise during the pregnancy, you will still be compensated with 2 million baht. You’ll have the best medical care, supplements, routine check-ups—everything will be taken care of. And most importantly, this will be strictly confidential.”
Becky swallowed, trying to process. “Why me?” Her voice was hoarse, laced with confusion.
Poom leaned back slightly, his expression unwavering. “We did our research on you. And, I’ve had the privilege of being your client. Your professionalism, your attention to care—it impressed me. If you can provide such genuine concern for someone like me, imagine what you could offer a child.”
Becky shot up from her seat, her chair scraping against the floor.
“You’re insane! What makes you think I’d agree to this?”
She turned on her heel, storming toward the door. This conversation was over.
But then—
“I know what happened at Vital.”
Becky froze.
Her entire body stiffened, fingers hovering just above the doorknob. The name alone sent a sharp sting.
“And I believe you.” Poom’s voice carried conviction, unwavering certainty. “I know this sounds like I’m taking advantage, but I’m not. This is a mutually beneficial proposal. Apart from the financial compensation, I will personally ensure your name is cleared.”
Becky turned slowly, staring at him. There it was—the catch.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “But being a surrogate means I have to… have…” The words stuck, tangled in hesitation.
Poom tilted his head, catching her meaning immediately. Then—he laughed.
“Oh, that? Heavens, no! Good gosh, I cannot.”
A grin flickered across his face, breaking the tension. “We’ll be taking the gestational route. You will only serve as the vessel.”
Becky let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Still, uncertainty clung to her.
“I’ll give you one week to think about it,” Poom finally said. “The decision is yours.”
********
One week later.
Freen sat at her desk, carefully reviewing the details of the business proposal. She was deep in thought, focused, every number and clause demanding her full attention.
Then came a knock.
Before she could look up, the door swung open, and there stood Poom—uninvited, as usual.
She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temple. “Poom, can you not—right now?”
He only grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, but this is important!”
Freen shot him an unimpressed look. “What could possibly be more important than this RPA Group proposal?”
Poom’s smirk widened, his excitement unmistakable. “Well, I finally found the perfect surrogate mother. She checks all the boxes.”
Freen froze.
Her fingers hovered over the papers, her pulse picking up. A thrill of anticipation ran through her, unbidden.
And then—
“The best part?” Poom leaned in slightly, eyes dancing with delight. “You’re going to meet her. She’s coming in today.”