Chapter 1
She must hear the sound of her last name a hundred times a day.
It starts every morning at 5 AM with the polite, “Good morning, Miss Kornnaphat,” from her doorman in her Bangkok high-rise.
“Five more, Kornnaphat!” from her personal trainer at the gym.
“Large latte for Kornnaphat!” from the barista at her favorite café, who knows her name and order by heart.
And the echoes of “Representative Kornnaphat!” or “Miss Kornnaphat!” from the dozens of young, eager campaign interns who swarm around her like ducklings, peppering her with questions and requests. Despite her approachable demeanor, they wouldn’t dare address her by her first name.
The “Good evening, Miss Kornnaphat,” from the evening doorman when she finally returns home. And on the nights she stays up late on conference calls, she hears it even more—from colleagues, advisors, and even her closest friends. Nene and Kate have taken to using her surname as an affectionate nickname on the rare nights she manages to join them for dinner or drinks. Kornnaphat, Kornnaphat, Kornnaphat—it’s a constant refrain.
And she loves it.
Kornnaphat carries the weight of her mother’s legacy, of course. Orm has outgrown the vanity of her younger years and now sees the value in people associating Narumon Phongsupa’s history with her own work. Especially in politics.
But more importantly, the sharp, commanding sound of her last name elevates her above the first impressions people often have of her. She’s young, strikingly beautiful, with honey-blonde hair and hazel eyes that seem to invite condescension from those who underestimate her. She’s endured every patronizing epithet—Princess, sweetheart, darling—with the determination of a pit bull. She’s grown to dislike the sound of her first name in professional settings. It feels too intimate, too familiar.
But her last name? Kornnaphat erases any hint of condescension. It demands respect. She’s as serious about her work as any seasoned politician. And every time someone addresses her as “Kornnaphat” instead of some cutesy nickname, she feels a surge of pride. She’s forced them to take her seriously. She’s given them no other choice.
That pride burns brighter than ever today as she opens the morning newspaper and runs her fingers over the bold headline on the second page:
“Kornnaphat Announces Candidacy for Thai Senate Seat”
It’s a monumental moment. Thai Senator.
Well, not yet. The race is crowded with seasoned politicians, and Orm has only officially entered the fray a few days ago. There’s a mountain of work ahead to get her campaign off the ground—thanks to Kwang, the wheels came off at the worst possible time—but for now, sitting in her new office in the heart of Bangkok, she allows herself a moment to savor the sound of her name paired with that title.
Sarah, her ever-efficient secretary, gives Orm a moment to absorb the headline before clearing her throat gently. “What do you think?” she asks.
“It’s perfect,” Orm replies, a rare note of idealism in her voice. Then, catching herself, she shakes her head. “But it’s just the beginning. We have so much work to do. What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?”
Sarah consults her clipboard. “You have conference calls at 1:30 and 2:30 with the Chiang Mai and Phuket offices, respectively. Prigkhing dropped off a stack of resumes for potential campaign managers and wants your feedback as soon as possible. Until we fill that role, you’ll need to revise the budget proposal for the next three months ahead of tomorrow’s meeting. Oh, and journalists are calling nonstop for interviews. They’ll need responses soon.”
“So, a light afternoon, then.”
Sarah, who has been with Orm since her first campaign, barely reacts to the sarcasm. “Good luck, Miss Kornnaphat.”
When Sarah leaves, Orm lets out a long sigh and leans back in her chair. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her office, she can see her young staff laughing and chatting in the main campaign headquarters. It’s Thursday, and the energy is relaxed, almost festive. The campaign is still in its early stages, and the team hasn’t yet been consumed by the chaos of the race. It’s a comforting sight, and for a moment, she allows herself to feel a flicker of pride in the team she’s built.
But the stack of paperwork on her desk quickly brings her back to reality. She has half an hour before the Chiang Mai conference call begins, and if past experience is any indication, both calls will run over. She won’t have time for anything else until late afternoon.
Still clinging to the hope of making it home before the 9 PM news, Orm grabs the folder of resumes Prigkhing left for her. A sticky note on the front reads:
Please pick your top two candidates and get back to me ASAP so I can schedule interviews.
Orm smirks. Prigkhing has been with her since her first campaign, and her bluntness is one of the few constants in her life. She’s been pushing Orm to hire a new campaign manager ever since Kwang left, but Orm has been stubbornly handling the role herself. She’s determined to find the perfect candidate, even if it means surviving on five hours of sleep a night.
“I’ll sleep when I’m senator,” she mutters to herself.
With Prigkhing’s notes as a guide, Orm quickly skims the five resumes. Three men, two women, all with varying levels of experience and expertise. One candidate graduated from Chulalongkorn University, her alma mater, and she feels a flicker of loyalty, but his lack of experience puts him out of her budget range.
Two others are well-known consultants in Bangkok’s political circles, but their fees are far beyond what she can afford at this stage.
Likeability??? Prigkhing had scribbled on one resume. Orm ignores it. She hadn’t particularly liked Kwang, but they’d made a good team—until his sudden departure. Besides, she’s the one who needs to be likeable. Her campaign manager just needs to be ruthlessly effective.
With a sigh, Orm turns her attention to the budget folder. The numbers confirm what she already knows: she can’t afford any of these candidates. Kwang, for all his faults, had at least been affordable.
Feeling guilty, she scribbles a note for Prigkhing: Maybe as consultants later?
Tossing the folder aside, she leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. The fatigue hits her earlier than usual today, and she knows she’ll need another coffee to make it through the afternoon. Just as she’s about to call Sarah, the intercom on her desk buzzes.
“Miss Kornnaphat?” Sarah’s voice comes through.
“Yes?” Orm replies, frowning. She wonders if she’ll need to give Sarah a raise for her apparent psychic abilities.
“I have former Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva on the line for you.”
“Abhisit? Like my mother’s friend Abhisit?” Orm hasn’t spoken to him in months, not since her mother’s last charity gala. “Uh, go ahead and transfer him through, thanks.”
“The Chiang Mai conference call—”
“Just hold it if you need to. This shouldn’t take long.”
“One moment, then.”
Distracted and confused by the unexpected call, Orm forgets to ask Sarah for coffee. She swears under her breath, then picks up the phone on the first ring.
“Orm! How are you, kid?”
She smiles at the sound of Abhisit’s warm, familiar voice. “I’m doing well, Khun Abhisit. And you?”
“Orm, at this point, you’ve known me for most of your life, and you’re a grown woman. You can call me by my first name.”
“I don’t think so,” she replies politely. Using his first name feels as strange as calling her father by his. “You’ll always be Prime Minister Abhisit to me. It’s just ingrained now.”
He chuckles. “Your mother raised you well. But, at the very least, I’ll be calling you Senator Kornnaphat soon, I hear. I saw that you officially joined the senate race. Congratulations! I knew you’d follow in Narumon’s footsteps.”
“Thank you, Khun Abhisit.” Orm closes her eyes, the thought of coffee creeping back into her mind.
“The country will be watching this race closely, and I’ll be rooting for you. But listen, now that you’re officially in the running, I wanted to give you a call. I have some contacts in Bangkok who might be able to help you and Kwang. There’s one—”
“Actually,” Orm interrupts, “Kwang won’t be managing my campaign this time. He did well with the state rep election, but he needs more experience before taking on something of this magnitude.”
Orm’s tone is professional, but Abhisit has been in politics long enough to read between the lines. He laughs. “Wow, you’re breaking up the Kornnaphat-Kwang dream team? You were the youngest state rep in years, if I remember correctly. It was a miracle election.”
“He had other obligations this time. In the meantime, once I fill the position, I’d love those contacts.”
“Absolutely, absolutely.” Abhisit pauses thoughtfully. “You know, I might still be able to help you now, Orm. I assume you’re in the process of building your campaign team?”
“Yes.”
“Hm. I worked closely with a consulting firm here in Bangkok and got to know a few of their employees quite well. There’s a young woman who recently moved to your area—she hasn’t run any campaigns herself, but she’s sharp, visionary. Her age is the only thing holding her back. You can probably relate. I think she’d be a great addition to your team.”
The call-waiting button begins to flash, and Sarah is waving frantically outside Orm’s office, mouthing, “Chiang Mai! Chiang Mai!” Orm nods and turns her attention back to Abhisit.
“That sounds great, Khun Abhisit. You have my email—send me her information, and I’ll forward it to my HR team.”
“Don’t worry, kid,” he replies. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll have her call your office. She’ll get snapped up by someone else if you don’t act quickly. January is campaign season, after all.”
Sarah is now practically jumping up and down outside the window. “Just have her email me directly,” Orm blurts out, immediately cringing at her lack of professionalism.
“Sounds good,” Abhisit says, chuckling. “I’ll be in touch, kid. And congratulations again!”
“Thank you. Talk to you soon.”
Before the call even disconnects, Orm switches lines and joins the Chiang Mai conference call, smoothly apologizing for the delay. As the team goes over the agenda, Orm scribbles My firstborn for a large coffee on a notepad and holds it up for Sarah. Her secretary gives her a thumbs-up and heads for the door.
That latte is Orm’s saving grace for the rest of the day. As predicted, both conference calls run over, and by the time she hangs up with Phuket, the office is empty except for her and Sarah. The budget proposal still needs to be finalized before tomorrow’s meeting, and the journalists’ interview requests will have to wait until morning. She justifies it by telling herself she’s playing hard to get.
By the time she finishes, it’s past 8 PM. She’ll miss the 9 PM news again, just like most nights these days. She can’t even remember the last time she made it home before sunset.
“Maybe if you weren’t managing your own campaign,” she mutters to herself. As she grabs her jacket, her gaze falls on the stack of rejected resumes in her outbox.
She’ll figure it out. She always does.
On the cab ride home, Orm dozes against the window, the streets of Bangkok blurring past. Her phone buzzes in her lap, pulling her from her thoughts.
[8:32 PM] Nene: Hey, Madame President. Kate got back into town last night. Drinks in an hour?
[8:32 PM] Orm Kornnaphat: I could’ve used one this afternoon, honestly.
[8:33] Nene: Wow. I thought the drinking started after you got elected, not before.
Orm makes a mental note to delete these messages later, just in case they ever come back to haunt her.
[8:35] Orm Kornnaphat: I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m exhausted, and I have an early day tomorrow. How long is she in town?
[8:40] Nene: You know Kate and Smith—they’re like tumbleweeds. I’ll ask her tonight and let you know. We’ll make plans soon, okay?
[8:41] Orm Kornnaphat: I promise.
[8:42] Nene: You’re sounding more and more like a politician I’d vote for. Talk later, Kornnaphat.
Orm smiles and slips her phone into her purse, but it buzzes again almost immediately. This time, it’s an email.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Campaign ManagementRepresentative Kornnaphat,
Through an unorthodox process, Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva directed me to contact you regarding an opportunity within your campaign.
I bring seven years of experience in political consulting, along with four years working on campaigns in various capacities. I’ve also developed the work ethic and resilience required to thrive in Bangkok’s political climate. I’ve attached my resume for your consideration and look forward to speaking with you at your earliest convenience.
Best regards,
Lingling Kwong
The email is brief, but it piques Orm’s interest. She scans the attached resume and is moderately impressed. Lingling Kwong graduated from Yale with a degree in political science the same year Orm graduated from Chulalongkorn University. They’re about the same age, making Lingling the youngest candidate Orm has considered so far.
Her experience is a bit thin for a role of this magnitude, but Orm thinks of the stack of rejected resumes on her desk and decides to give her a chance. She forwards the email to Prigkhing with a note:
Sorry, Prigkhing, the CM candidates didn’t work out for budget reasons. But we can bring on some consultants for now. This one was personally recommended by Abhisit. Check her out and let me know what you think.
—OK
The next morning, Orm is barely through the door when her staff descends on her with questions and updates. Among the chaos, Prigkhing’s reminder of an “Interview at three!” is acknowledged but quickly forgotten. Orm has a massive budget meeting later in the day, and the prep for it consumes her entire morning.
The meeting itself is less about numbers and more about arguing, which Orm excels at—she was a lawyer before entering politics, after all. But debating with accountants and financial advisors who prefer spreadsheets to human interaction is exhausting. After four rounds of negotiations, they finally reach a compromise, but it’s only temporary. Another meeting is scheduled in three months to revisit the budget. Orm leaves the conference room with a pounding headache, craving the solitude of her office. It’s Friday afternoon, the end of a grueling week.
Her solitude lasts all of fifteen minutes.
A soft knock at the door interrupts her attempt at meditation. She opens her eyes to see Sarah peeking in. “Miss Kornnaphat?”
Too tired to remind her about the intercom, Orm takes a deep breath. “Yes?”
“Just a reminder about your interview—”
Orm curses under her breath. “Ah, right, the journalists. I’ll get back to them before the end of the day, I promise. Let them write about Ying Anada first. We’ll save the best for last.” She doesn’t smile, framing it as a strategic move rather than procrastination.
Sarah doesn’t leave. Orm raises an eyebrow. “Of course, Miss Kornnaphat. I also wanted to remind you about your interview with Prigkhing and her campaign management applicant.”
“When was this discussed?”
“This morning. It’s on your schedule.”
Orm looks down at her desk calendar and groans. Sure enough, there it is: Interview with Prigkhing and applicant – 3:00 PM. She hisses, “Shit,” and jumps out of her chair, rushing past Sarah to the conference room.
She’s still smoothing out her blouse as she enters, finding Prigkhing waiting with her usual impatient expression. Prigkhing has been with Orm since her first campaign, and her blunt, no-nonsense attitude is one of the few things Orm can count on.
“Took you long enough, boss,” Prigkhing says dryly.
“Busy day,” Orm shoots back, taking a seat beside her. A resume and a legal pad sit on the table, reminding Orm that she hadn’t thoroughly reviewed Lingling Kwong’s details. “Give me the short version. What do you think?”
“No time. She’s already here. Punctual, this one. You could learn something.” Prigkhing smirks. “Sarah went to bring her in as soon as you showed up. I’ll take the lead on the interview, and we’ll discuss it later.”
Before Orm can respond, the door opens, and Sarah steps in, followed by one of the most striking women Orm has ever seen.
Orm immediately bites the inside of her cheek. Not the time, she reminds herself. But it’s hard to ignore the way the air in the room seems to shift as Lingling Kwong walks in. She’s tall, confident, and effortlessly elegant, her dark hair pulled into a sleek bun that highlights the beauty mark on her left cheek. Her tailored suit fits perfectly, and her presence commands attention.
“Miss Kwong,” Prigkhing says, standing to greet her. “Nice to meet you. We spoke on the phone earlier. This is State Representative Orm Kornnaphat.”
“Thank you for arranging this on short notice, Khun Prigkhing,” Lingling says, shaking her hand. Then she turns to Orm, her dark eyes meeting Orm’s hazel ones. “Miss Kornnaphat, it’s a pleasure.”
“Likewise,” Orm replies, shaking Lingling’s hand. Her grip is firm, her demeanor calm and composed. Orm can’t help but feel a flicker of admiration—and something else she can’t quite place.
They take their seats, and Prigkhing takes the lead, running through the basics of Lingling’s resume. Orm sits back, observing. Lingling is poised and articulate, answering each question with precision and confidence. She’s clearly done her homework, and her answers are thoughtful and well-reasoned.
“So,” Prigkhing says, wrapping up the initial questions, “a Bachelor’s in Political Science from Yale, a minor in Business, and a year into a Master’s in Marketing at NYU before you left to work in consulting. Why the shift?”
“I realized real-world experience would take me further than another degree,” Lingling replies smoothly. “Working in consulting allowed me to apply what I’d learned in a practical setting.”
“And what appeals to you about campaign management?” Orm asks, speaking up for the first time.
Lingling turns her gaze to Orm, her expression thoughtful. “The complexity of it. Campaigns require a deep understanding of politics, business, media, and people. I enjoy the challenge of bringing all those elements together to create something successful.”
Orm nods, impressed. Lingling’s answer is exactly what she wants to hear. But she keeps her expression neutral, not wanting to give too much away.
Prigkhing continues with a few more questions, and Lingling handles them with the same ease. Orm can’t help but notice how Lingling’s confidence never wavers, even when Prigkhing throws her a curveball.
“Alright,” Prigkhing says finally, setting down her pen. “I think that covers everything we need for now. Representative Kornnaphat, anything else?”
Orm leans forward, her curiosity piqued. “One more question. In your email, you mentioned surviving Bangkok’s political climate. Can you elaborate on that?”
Lingling pauses, her gaze steady on Orm. “You’ve been in politics long enough to know how cutthroat it can be, especially for a young woman. Bangkok is no different. You have to be ruthless, adaptable, and willing to fight for every inch of ground. I’ve learned to thrive in that environment, and I believe your campaign could benefit from that mindset.”
Orm feels a spark of recognition in Lingling’s words. She knows exactly what Lingling means—she’s had to fight for every bit of respect she’s earned in her career. “We probably could,” Orm says, smiling faintly.
Prigkhing wraps up the interview, and Lingling thanks them both before leaving with Sarah. As soon as the door closes, Orm and Prigkhing slump back in their chairs.
“So,” Prigkhing says, “what do you think?”
“She’s good,” Orm admits. “Really good. I think she’d be a great addition to the team.”
“Do you think she’d fit in, or are you just impressed because she’s as ruthless as you are?” Prigkhing teases.
Orm rolls her eyes. “They’re not mutually exclusive. But seriously, she handled herself well. That’s what I need—someone who can take some of the pressure off me.”
Prigkhing nods. “Understood. But remember, this isn’t just about hiring someone competent. She’s going to be by your side for the next year. You need to be able to work with her, not just delegate to her.”
Orm sighs. “I know. Set up a one-on-one meeting with her next week. If that goes well, we’ll bring her on.”
“Deal.” Prigkhing stands, gathering her notes. “Now, it’s almost four on a Friday. Go enjoy your weekend, Kornnaphat.”
“I will when I’m senator,” Orm replies with a wry smile.