Chapter - 1
1009 Words
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The air inside Chan Phongsakorn Saengtham's grand office was thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and polished wood. The dim lighting gave the space an air of authority, a place where billion-dollar deals were made and sealed with a handshake. The large floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Bangkok's skyline, the golden glow of the setting sun reflecting against the city's glass towers.
At the center of the room, two powerful men sat across from each other-Gun Theerapanyakul, the feared patriarch of the Theerapanyakul family, and Chan Phongsakorn Saengtham, the second-richest businessman in Thailand. Their discussion was heavy, filled with words about alliances, power, and the future of their empires.
Gun, ever the sharp-eyed strategist, leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the polished mahogany table. His voice was calm yet commanding.
"You know how this world works, Chan. Power is never stable. It shifts like the tide. And to ensure it stays in place... alliances are necessary."
Chan nodded in understanding. Both men were aware of the dangers of the underworld. Theerapanyakuls were more than just wealthy businessmen-they controlled the darkest corners of the city, ruling with an iron fist. While Chan stayed within the boundaries of legal business, he was not blind to the reality of power struggles.
Before he could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Then-
The door burst open.
A young man entered, holding a small orange kitten in his arms and balancing a bag of home-cooked food in the other.
Pete.
His presence was like a splash of warm sunlight against the cold, calculated air of the room. His bright brown eyes, filled with curiosity, darted between the two older men. His soft, fluffy brown hair framed his youthful face, making him look even more innocent. But what caught the most attention was his dimpled smile-radiant, warm, utterly disarming.
Pete didn't seem to notice the tension in the room. Instead, he walked straight to his father's desk, placing the lunchbox down and carefully settling the shivering kitten in his lap.
"Papa, you forgot your lunch again," Pete said, his voice light and teasing as he placed the lunchbox on the desk. He then carefully settled the shivering kitten in his lap, stroking its tiny head.
Chan sighed, shaking his head. "You shouldn't have come all this way just to bring me food, Pete."
"You always say that, and yet you always eat everything I bring," Pete countered with a grin.
Gun Theerapanyakul, who had been silent up until now, observed the exchange with sharp eyes. Pete was different from anyone he had encountered. Young, cheerful, and completely unaware of the tension in the room, he stood in stark contrast to the dark world these men lived in.
Chan smiled fondly, patting Pete's head before turning back to Gun.
"This is my son, Pete." His voice held pride, as if he had just introduced the most precious treasure in his life.
Gun's sharp eyes locked onto Pete, observing him carefully.
Gun's calculating gaze locked onto Pete. The boy was unlike any of the hardened men Gun had dealt with. He was... soft omega.
Pete, oblivious to the scrutiny, opened the lunchbox and scooped out a small portion of curry onto a plate. He glanced at Gun and smiled.
"Would you like some, Sir? I made extra!"
Gun raised an eyebrow. It had been years since someone had genuinely surprised him. This child had walked into a room where men of immense power were negotiating and casually offered them curry.
For the first time in a long time, Gun chuckled.
And that's when the idea struck him.
His son, Vegas, had rejected every marriage proposal Gun had arranged. Too consumed by his violent world, too unwilling to let anyone close. But this boy-this soft, bubbly, untainted young omega-was the perfect balance to Vegas's darkness.
Gun leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the table. "How old are you, Pete?"
Pete blinked at the sudden question. "Twenty-two."
Gun smirked slightly, amusement flickering in his usually cold eyes. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlocking as he studied the young man before him. Pete's innocence was refreshing-an anomaly in the ruthless world he and Chan lived in. A boy like him didn't belong here, yet he had walked in so casually, unaware of the sheer weight of power in the room. And now, with that warm, dimpled smile, he was offering Gun curry as if they were old friends.
Gun tilted his head, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "You are a sweet boy, Pete."
The compliment was simple, but it carried a weight Pete hadn't expected. His eyes widened briefly before a faint pink hue dusted his cheeks. He ducked his head, pretending to focus on adjusting the tiny kitten in his lap, but the way his fingers fidgeted gave away his shyness.
Chan, noticing his son's reaction, let out a quiet chuckle. He reached out, ruffling Pete's soft brown hair with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual composed demeanor.
"Pete is always sweet," Chan said, his voice carrying an unmistakable fondness. "Just like his late mother." His eyes turned distant for a moment, as if lost in a memory, before he looked at Gun again. "She was a kind, gentle woman. Pete takes after her in every way."
Pete glanced up at his father, his smile softer now. He didn't remember much about his mother, only the stories his father told him-stories about a woman with a warm heart and a soft voice, someone who had loved deeply. And every time his father mentioned her, it was with that same look in his eyes-grief, but also immense love.
Gun remained silent, watching the exchange between father and son. He had known Chan for years, but seeing him like this-so openly affectionate-was rare.
Gun's gaze flickered back to Pete, his mind already forming a plan. A boy like this could change things. He could change Vegas.
And Gun Theerapanyakul never ignored an opportunity.
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- Writer
