At 7:35 a.m., I messaged Phu:
Me: "Hey, going out with my sister today. Won't make it to the shoot. Rest well and don't worry, okay?"
I watched the screen. No reply.
I figured he was getting ready, maybe away from his phone. I told myself not to overthink it.
7:45 a.m.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
My stomach dropped.
I hesitated—just for a second—then answered.
A man's voice. Cold. Calm. Like this was routine for him.
"Leave your front door unlocked. Someone will be there by 7:50."
No name. No explanation.
Just an order.
His voice had no emotion, but there was a weight behind it. A quiet threat.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he'd already hung up.
I stared at the screen, my hand trembling slightly.
Who were these people?
And what did they want from me?
One thing was clear—they weren't just watching. They were close. Too close.
I looked at the time. 7:47 a.m.
Three minutes.
I stood frozen in the middle of the room, heart racing, my thoughts spiraling.
Should I run? Call someone? Lock the door and pretend I never got the call?
But something told me that would only make things worse.
These people weren't bluffing. I could feel it in my bones.
Whoever they were… they had the power to make someone disappear.
And right now, I was next on their list.
The door creaked open again.
I stayed rooted to the spot, lingering near the center of the room, unsure whether to run or stay still.
A man in his 50s stepped inside—tall, broad-shouldered, with a calm but commanding presence. He moved with quiet confidence, like someone used to being obeyed.
"Please sit down," he said, his tone polite but firm.
My body moved before my mind could catch up. I sat on the edge of the sofa, hands trembling slightly, heart pounding against my ribs. My eyes followed him as he walked slowly around the room, scanning everything with a sharp, deliberate gaze.
There was something eerily familiar about him… but I couldn't place it.
He finally sat across from me.
Then the door opened again.
One by one, they entered—eight, maybe ten men. They didn't say a word. They simply took their places, standing along the walls, near the windows, filling every corner of the room. Watching.
The space suddenly felt small. Suffocating.
The first man leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I'm Pichai Inthanon's right hand," he said. "My name is Suthep Kraisorn. You can call me Ton."
I blinked, stunned by the name.
Pichai Inthanon.
Of course.
That's why his face seemed familiar. I had seen him before—at a wedding maybe, or in the background of an old photo. He'd been in the orbit of power. Of money. Of danger.
I nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, Mr. Ton… how can I help you?"
He smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in it.
"I'm not here because I need help," he said, voice like ice. "I'm here to remind you that nothing you do goes unnoticed. Especially when it involves people we've invested in."
My blood ran cold.
People they've invested in?
Was he talking about Phu?
Or… me?
Before I could ask, Ton leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
"You've been given a warning. What happens next depends on how well you listen."
I nodded quietly, still trying to hide how much my hands were shaking.
Mr. Ton looked me straight in the eye and said,"I know you're Phu's favorite person right now. And honestly, I don't care about your relationship. But I need you to step back from his life."
A long, sharp silence filled the air.
I sighed—loudly, unable to hide my frustration. That seemed to trigger something in him.
His gaze sharpened.
"Why? You're not happy?" he asked, his tone now edged with sarcasm.
I looked up at him, voice shaking but steady.
"Why is everyone trying to control who I love? What did I ever do to any of you?" I asked, the pain cracking through my voice. "All I did was love him."
Mr. Ton sat back slowly, expression unreadable.
Then he said, almost like it was the most natural thing in the world:
"I have a wife. And two sons. Both of them are interested in women."
I frowned, confused by the shift.
"That's how the system works," he continued. "Women are for breeding. Men are to breed the women. That's the cycle. That's an order."
I stared at him in disbelief, my face twisting in disgust.
"I'm sorry," I said coldly. "If you think women are only for breeding, and if you believe love only exists between a man and a woman—then I don't think your brain is developed enough to understand what love is."
His jaw tightened, but I didn't stop.
Of course, you don't get how two men can fall in love—after all, in your world, love only exists if it leads to babies, right? "But let me be very clear—what I feel for Phu isn't something you get to erase just because it doesn't fit your 'system.'"
The room fell silent.
Heavy. Tense.
I knew I might've just crossed a line—but I also knew I wasn't going to stay quiet, not when everything inside me was already burning.
He looked at me for a moment, then tilted his head slightly.
"Hmm," he muttered. "True. I don't understand how two men fall in love."
Then, to my shock, he smirked—a slow, mocking curve of his lips.
"But I do have a question," he added, eyes narrowing with twisted curiosity.
"I know how a man penetrates a woman—that's biology, that makes sense to me. But how do two men… do it?"
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
"Genuine question," he said, voice calm but dripping with condescension.
The room felt like it had frozen.
Some of the men standing around shifted uncomfortably—but no one spoke.
I looked at him, disgust and disbelief boiling inside me.
"That's your concern?" I said flatly. "After barging into someone's home, threatening them, and demanding they give up someone they love—you're curious about sex?"
His smirk didn't waver. "Yes!!"
He looked around the room at his men and said calmly,
"Well, we're all here. Some of them are married, some single. But I can't say for sure whether they prefer men or women."
He paused, then added with a twisted kind of pride,
"But one thing I do know—they'll do whatever I ask them to do. No questions. No hesitation. They don't care what I ask for... but they'll do it."
His words chilled me.
I couldn't quite grasp what he meant—whether it was a threat, a test, or just some sick flex of power.
Still, I straightened my back and forced my voice to stay firm.
"Mr. Ton," I said, my throat dry but my resolve strong, "I think I've made my answer clear. I'm not leaving Phu. No matter what."
He looked at me with a slow nod, the faintest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Okay," he said simply. "If you say so."
Then, without another word, he pulled out a cigarette pipe, lit it, and leaned back in the chair. The smoke curled lazily in the air, winding between the silence like a warning.
I sat there, watching him.
He didn't speak. I didn't dare break the silence.
Five minutes passed. Maybe more.
The room was so quiet I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, the faint hum of the fridge, the pounding in my own chest.
Then, suddenly, he stood up.
He began to walk—slowly—around the house.
Not speaking. Not asking. Just... looking. Studying. Like he was memorizing the layout. Or checking for something.
Every step he took made my anxiety spike higher.
Something wasn't right.
I could feel it.
The air felt too heavy. Too still.
And in that moment, I realized—this wasn't over.
Not even close.
Mr. Ton walked slowly toward one of the men near the back and chuckled lightly.
"Ian," he said, tilting his head. "You're mixed with American, aren't you? Your skin… it's different from the rest of us."
He looked at me, as if waiting for a response.
I didn't say a word.
He knew that already. He didn't need to ask. He was just toying with me now.
Then, without warning, one of the men stepped forward and sat beside me—on my sofa. His body close. Too close.
Something shifted in the air. Thick. Heavy.
I tensed immediately, my instincts screaming. I stood up, but another man stepped behind me and pressed a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Sit."
His voice was sharp. Final.
He pushed me back down, and I felt my whole body start to tremble.
My breath grew shallow. The edges of my vision pulsed. That old, awful pressure of a panic attack crept in fast—tightening in my chest.
Mr. Ton exhaled smoke slowly, watching me with unsettling ease.
"Ian, Ian, Ian," he said, almost mockingly."I told you—I don't understand how two men can fall in love. Or how they can… be together. Frankly?" He smirked.
"I find it disgusting. I'll admit it."
I stared at him, my hands gripping the sofa beneath me, nails digging into the fabric.
He glanced at his men. "But my men? They're loyal. So loyal, they'll do anything for me."
His voice dropped low.
"They don't care what I ask. They just follow orders."
My heart was pounding out of control. I could barely breathe.
He smiled wider and added with disturbing calm, "It was nice to meet you, Ian. The pleasure, of course… is yours."
He turned and began walking toward the door.
Only six of the men followed him.
Four stayed behind.
At the threshold, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
"They're all married," he said with a cold smile. "But it's not about preference, is it? Four should be enough for today."
Then he walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And I started to shake.