CONFLICT OF INTERESTS

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EPILOGUE: OUT OF FOCUS

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One year after the trip to the southern coast, the red carpet lights at the National Theatre turned the night into a blinding spectacle. Hundreds of cameras, international journalists, and industry executives crowded behind the security barriers for the world premiere of the flagship series produced by Chisanupong-Raveewit.
The project had not only broken pre-sale records on global platforms, but had also established the firm as the undisputed entertainment powerhouse in the region.
The first black sedan stopped in front of the main entrance. Smart stepped out wearing an impeccable black tuxedo, his bow tie perfectly adjusted and that magnetic, composed, authoritative presence that immediately commanded attention. He greeted the photographers with a subtle nod and waited exactly two seconds beside the beginning of the carpet.
The second vehicle stopped right behind it. Boom stepped out wearing a navy-blue tuxedo with silk accents and sharp lapels, smiling with the warmth and overflowing charisma the press adored.
When they met in the center of the red carpet, the cameras erupted in an endless burst of flashes.
In front of the crowd and the cameras, they posed shoulder to shoulder: the two youngest and most successful CEOs in the industry, the perfect balance between icy strategy and bold artistic vision. When a reporter shouted from the front row, asking how they managed to handle power without destroying each other, Boom tilted his head toward Smart with a knowing smile.
—We understand each other on the key points —Boom replied lightly into the microphone—. Every negotiation has its place and its time.
Smart did not respond with words, but his hand briefly settled on the small of Boom's back, a gesture that appeared formal on the surface, but carried a possessive firmness that only Boom recognized before they moved toward the main hall.
Hours later, after the auditorium's standing ovation, the ceremonial speeches, and the private reception with the investors, the bustle of the gala began to fade.
In the penthouse on the fifty-fifth floor, the city was once again reduced to a silent sea of lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The premiere trophies rested on the entry table beside the keys and loosened ties.
Boom stood barefoot in front of the panoramic glass, still wearing the tuxedo trousers with his white shirt completely open, holding a champagne glass loosely between his fingers. He heard Smart's quiet footsteps approaching across the carpet until he felt the warmth of his body enveloping him from behind.
Smart wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him against his chest and burying his face in Boom's neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin.
—The original exclusivity contract was set to expire in two years —Smart whispered in a low, husky voice against his ear—. The legal team sent me the renewal this afternoon.
Boom set the glass down on the side table, tilted his head back against Smart's shoulder, and intertwined his fingers with his over his abdomen.
—And what did you decide, Director? —Boom asked softly, without a trace of their old rivalry.
Smart tightened his hold around him, calmly kissing his jaw.
—I added a lifetime clause, Raveewit. There is no termination option.
Boom smiled in the dim light, turning in his arms to meet Smart's eyes before pulling him down and sealing the agreement on his lips.
—I accept the terms, partner.