Chapter 16

Rani’s Point Of View

The crisp, cool air of Switzerland greeted me the moment I stepped off the plane, a stark contrast to the humid bustle of Manila I’d left behind. Wrapped in a tailored coat and sharp heels, I moved with purpose through the gleaming airport terminal, Elise right beside me, ever the efficient shadow.

Sitting in the sleek, glass-walled conference room overlooking the snow-capped Alps, I felt the familiar rush of control wash over me. This was my world: polished, precise, and demanding. Elise flipped through the documents, her eyes alert, ready to assist at a moment’s notice.

“Everything’s set for the presentation, Ma’am,” she said softly, sliding a tablet across the table.

I nodded, tracing the sharp lines of the charts and projections, my mind half on the figures, half on the secret growing inside me. Switzerland might have been thousands of miles away from home, but the weight of my hidden pregnancy and the tangled mess with Lamia followed me relentlessly.

Elise caught my distracted glance and offered a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

I returned her smile, steeling myself. No matter where I was, BGC, Antipolo, or the heart of Europe… I was still Rani Hidalgo. A woman who carried secrets and strength in equal measure.

And this trip? Just another challenge to conquer.

As the meeting began, I sat straight-backed, every inch the composed CEO. The investors, a sea of sharp suits and sharper eyes, waited expectantly. I cleared my throat and started with a confident smile. “Thank you all for being here today. Let me walk you through our latest projects and growth strategies.”

A man from the front row, with a crisp gray suit, raised his hand. “Ms. Hidalgo, your company’s expansion plan is impressive, but what about risk management in volatile markets?”

I met his gaze without hesitation. “We’ve diversified our portfolio and implemented adaptive strategies that allow us to pivot quickly. Our data analytics team provides real-time insights to mitigate risks effectively.”

Elise leaned in quietly and slid me a note with updated figures. I nodded and continued. “Additionally, our new sustainable product line has attracted significant interest in Europe and Asia, which we expect will drive a 15% increase in revenue next quarter.”

After a few more questions, the atmosphere shifted. A woman investor smiled and said, “I’m convinced. Your vision is clear, and your numbers back it up.”

The room buzzed with agreement as other nods and murmurs followed.

When the meeting finally ended, Elise approached, whispering, “You handled that perfectly, Ma’am.”

I managed a tight smile. “Thanks, Elise. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

She glanced at me with concern. “Okay lang po ba kayo? You seem a bit off today.”

I shook my head lightly, hiding the tightness in my chest. “Just tired. The trip’s been intense.”

Elise nodded understandingly but didn’t press further.

Later, sitting alone in the quiet conference room, I stared out at the snow-dusted Alps. The serene view was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me.

I whispered to myself, “One step at a time. For Faisal, for me.”

Tomorrow, I’d face whatever came next.

But tonight, I let myself feel the fragile hope growing quietly within.

After the meeting wrapped up and the investors filed out one by one, the room finally settled into a calm hush. I leaned back in my chair, the polished glass conference table cool beneath my fingertips. Outside, the snowflakes drifted slowly against the mountains, pristine and untouched, so different from the messy chaos waiting for me back home.

Elise closed her tablet softly and looked at me with a mix of admiration and worry. “Ang galing mo talaga today, Ma’am. Grabe, lahat po impressed sa presentation mo.”

I gave a small smile but didn’t feel the usual surge of satisfaction. “Thanks, Elise. I just want to keep everything on track. No mistakes.”

She folded her hands on the table, eyes searching mine. “Ma’am, are you sure po okay ka lang? Mukhang pinipilit mo sarili mo ng sobra nitong mga nakaraang linggo.”

I glanced down at my stomach, careful to keep my hand hidden. “It’s complicated, but I’m managing.”

Elise’s gaze softened. “Alam mo, if you ever need to vent or even just take a break saglit, nandito lang ako ha. You’re not alone.”

I met her concern with a grateful nod. “I appreciate that, Elise. Really.”

The room felt colder all of a sudden, the mountain air creeping through the slight crack in the window. I wrapped my arms around myself, thinking of the secret I carried, the tiny life growing quietly within me, a life that neither Lamia nor anyone else knew about.

“Sometimes I wonder,” I said quietly, more to myself than to Elise, “how I’m going to keep all of this together. The company, the marriage, the pregnancy… It feels like I’m walking a tightrope.”

Elise gave a small, encouraging smile. “Ma’am, you’re way stronger than you think. At tandaan mo, you don’t have to carry this all by yourself.”

I looked out the window again, the snow blurring the edges of the world. “Not everyone really understands what it means to carry a secret like this.”

“Siguro nga po, Ma’am,” Elise admitted gently, “but I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Her words grounded me, and for a moment, I let myself breathe a little easier.

Tomorrow, I’d put the CEO mask back on, face the boardroom and the world with all the strength I had left.

But tonight, here in Switzerland, away from the chaos, I allowed myself a rare moment of vulnerability—and hope.

——

The next morning, the crisp Swiss air was filled with the usual hum of business, phone calls, hurried footsteps, the clinking of coffee cups. As I walked alongside Elise toward the investors’ company headquarters, my mind was half-focused on the meetings ahead, half on the uneasy feeling curling in my stomach.

Elise suddenly pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. “Ma’am, look at this,” she said, showing me a news headline flashing across the screen,

Lamia Al-Gaddafi crowned second richest person in the Philippines, just behind her father, Jazed Al-Gaddafi.

I furrowed my brows and leaned closer. The article detailed Lamia’s recent business moves, investments, and acquisitions that pushed her fortune beyond many others in the country, right under her father’s towering empire.

I clenched my jaw. Of course she’d be making waves, thriving in the spotlight while I’m here juggling this… mess.

Elise looked up at me, eyes sharp and curious. “Ang dami raw pong nagugulat, Ma’am. Sabi nila, she’s unstoppable.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing calm into my voice. “Let her be. Doesn’t change anything here.”

But deep down, I knew it did. Lamia’s success was another reminder, another layer to the complicated, bitter game we were both trapped in. And no matter how much I tried to control my world, she was always there, just beneath the surface, making sure I never forgot.

Elise glanced at me with a knowing look. “Ma’am, honestly, magaling po talaga si Ma’am Lamia. Despite everything, she’s still making moves.”

I forced a bitter smile. “Yeah, well, that’s Lamia for you… always got to be the center of attention. Like she’s trying to prove something.”

Elise shrugged. “Maybe she is. Or maybe she just knows how to play the game better.”

I shook my head, a flicker of frustration creeping in. “I don’t have time for her games. I have my own battles to fight.”

Elise smiled softly. “I get it, Ma’am. But, you know, sometimes these things, business or power, can be used as weapons or shields. Just be careful not to get burned.”

I looked out the window, watching the Swiss city bustle below. “Trust me, Elise. I’m sharper than they think.”

She laughed lightly. “That’s what I like to hear, Ma’am. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself too.”

I met her gaze firmly. “I will. For Faisal, and for me.”

Elise nodded approvingly. “Good. Kasi kahit gaano po tayo ka-busy, you gotta remember… hindi lang business ang buhay.”

I glanced back at the news article once more, the numbers and rankings etched clearly in my mind. Fifth richest in the Philippines. Just a few steps behind Lamia’s second place. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

“Being fifth isn’t bad,” I murmured, more to myself than to Elise. “At least I’m not far behind.”

Elise gave me a quick, supportive smile. “Exactly, Ma’am. Kaya lang konti na lang, pwede na po kayong mag-head-to-head sa ranking.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “If only it was just about numbers. It’s never that simple with her.”

She nodded knowingly. “True. But you’ve got your own empire to run and a legacy to build.”

That thought settled deep in my mind. No matter how much Lamia shined, I still had my own throne to defend. And no matter what, I wasn’t about to let her overshadow me. Not now, not ever.

Back in the sleek, glass-walled boardroom, I took my seat at the head of the table, the air charged with anticipation. The investors were already waiting, their eyes sharp and expectant. As I began outlining the next phase of our expansion, the confidence in my voice was unmistakable, every slide, every data point carefully crafted to show strength and vision.

By the time I finished, the room was buzzing. Several investors exchanged impressed glances, nodding in approval. One of them, a seasoned gentleman with a reputation for being tough to please, leaned forward and said, “Ms. Hidalgo, your strategic foresight is exceptional. It’s clear you have a firm grasp on both the market and your company’s potential.”

I allowed myself a slight, controlled smile. “Thank you. We’re committed to not just maintaining our position but pushing boundaries. Innovation and resilience are key.”

Elise, sitting quietly beside me, gave me an encouraging nod. The room’s energy shifted, what had started as skepticism now turned to respect. This was my moment to prove that I was not just a contender but a leader who could hold her own, no matter the challenges waiting back home.

As the meeting wrapped up with firm handshakes and promises of continued partnership, I felt a surge of determination. Whatever the chaos outside, in this room, I was in control. And I intended to keep it that way.

After the board meeting wrapped up and the investors had left the room with nods of approval, I felt the weight of the day settle in. Elise had been a steady presence by my side all morning, but as the afternoon sun filtered softly through the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling windows, I decided I needed a break, some time alone to think, away from meetings and strategy sessions.

“Elise, I’m going out for a while. I need to clear my head,” I said, gathering my things.

She looked up, slightly concerned but understanding. “Okay, Ma’am. Ingat po kayo. And text me if you need anything.”

I smiled faintly. “Will do. Thanks.”

Stepping out into the crisp Swiss air, the chill was a welcome contrast to the sterile hotel conference rooms. I wandered through the winding cobblestone streets, past quaint cafés and art galleries, the sounds of soft chatter and distant church bells filling the air. The beauty of the place was almost surreal, so peaceful and orderly, worlds away from the storm brewing in my personal life.

For a few moments, I let myself forget the biting tension with Lamia, the secret growing inside me, the tangled web of lies and expectations. The snow-dusted rooftops, the distant mountains standing proud and silent, they all whispered a rare promise of calm.

As I walked further, I pulled my coat tighter around me, allowing the cold to clear my thoughts. This time alone was a fragile gift, but one I needed, a moment to breathe, to remember who I was beneath the weight of business and betrayal.

And when the time came, I’d face everything again. But for now, just this quiet Swiss afternoon.

As I wandered down a quiet side street, my eyes caught sight of a quaint little shop tucked between modern storefronts, a charming antique store, its weathered wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. The window was filled with delicate curiosities: old clocks, faded photographs, intricately carved jewelry boxes, and porcelain figurines that seemed to whisper stories of the past.

Drawn by an unexpected curiosity, I pushed open the heavy door, the soft chime announcing my entrance. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of lavender filled the air, wrapping around me like a nostalgic embrace.

Inside, the shop was a maze of shelves crammed with treasures from eras long gone. Dust motes danced in the slanting afternoon light, casting golden specks over polished brass and cracked leather-bound books. For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe differently, to escape the relentless pressure of my life back home.

The shopkeeper, an elderly man with kind eyes and a gentle smile, looked up from behind the counter. “Welcome,” he said softly in accented English. “Looking for something special?”

I smiled, hesitating. “Maybe just… something to remind me there’s more to life than the chaos I carry.”

He nodded knowingly. “Sometimes the past holds the peace we seek.”

I moved slowly, letting my fingers brush over an old music box, its intricate designs delicate and inviting. For a few minutes, the tension inside me eased, replaced by a quiet calm that felt almost foreign.

In that small shop, surrounded by whispers of history, I found a moment of reprieve, a rare refuge from the storms that waited for me beyond the door.

As I meandered through the narrow aisles, my eyes landed on a small, delicate locket resting in a velvet-lined box. Its silver surface was etched with intricate floral patterns, worn smooth by time. There was something quietly compelling about it, as if it held a secret waiting to be uncovered.

I carefully lifted the locket, feeling its cool weight in my palm. The shopkeeper approached quietly, his eyes gentle yet sharp.

“That piece,” he said softly, “has belonged to many who sought strength in difficult times. They say it carries the courage of those who dared to keep moving forward, even when everything seemed lost.”

I glanced up at him, intrigued despite myself.

“Maybe it’s not just an object,” he continued, “but a reminder. That even when life feels uncertain, the power to change your story is always within you.”

I held the locket closer, a strange warmth blooming in my chest. For a brief moment, the chaos in my mind felt a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, I could face everything ahead with a little more courage than before.

I looked up from the locket, meeting the shopkeeper’s calm gaze. “You really believe that?”

He gave a soft chuckle, the kind that comes from years of witnessing countless stories. “I don’t know about belief, ma’am. But I’ve seen people carry this little thing through storms, heartbreaks, betrayals, and new beginnings. It becomes more than just silver and engravings. It becomes a talisman, a reminder.”

I traced the delicate patterns with my fingertip, feeling a strange connection. “Sounds like exactly what I need right now. Life’s been… difficult lately. I’m juggling a marriage that feels like it’s unraveling every day, keeping secrets that weigh me down, and trying to stay strong while everything around me falls apart. Some days, I wonder if I’ll ever find solid ground again.”

The shopkeeper nodded slowly, eyes thoughtful. “Sometimes the heaviest burdens teach us the most about ourselves. What you carry now, it may feel unbearable, but it shapes your strength in ways you can’t see yet.”

I sighed, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just the pain of it all, you know? It’s the loneliness. Pretending everything’s fine when no one really knows what’s going on inside. My wife… she’s not who I thought she was, and I’m carrying something she doesn’t even know about. How do you live with that kind of silence?”

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes kind. “Silence can be a prison, but it can also be a space to gather yourself. The key is finding your own voice again, even if it’s just a whisper at first.”

I looked down at the locket again, feeling its cool weight. “I want to believe I can find that voice. But some days, it’s just so hard to keep going when everything feels like a battle.”

He smiled gently. “That’s exactly when you need reminders. Not grand speeches or dramatic gestures, but small things, like this locket, that say, ‘You are stronger than you think.’ Wear it not because it fixes everything, but because it reminds you to keep trying, day after day.”

I hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly, “How much for it?”

“Consider it a gift,” he said warmly. “For someone who needs it more than I do.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his generosity. “Are you sure? I can pay.”

He shook his head with a smile. “Sometimes, the universe sends help in unexpected forms. Just promise me you’ll wear it when you need courage the most.”

I slipped the locket into my coat pocket, a small but significant weight against my heart. “I promise.”

As I prepared to leave, he called softly after me, “Remember, strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s the quiet voice at the end of the day telling you to try again tomorrow.”

I stepped back into the crisp Swiss air, clutching the invisible but very real courage the locket seemed to offer. For the first time in a long while, amidst the storm of my life, I felt a fragile but growing hope that maybe I could face what was coming next.

I wandered away from the bustling streets and found myself at a quiet park. There, a small lake shimmered under the soft afternoon light, its surface rippling gently with the breeze. Around the water’s edge, children laughed and chased each other, their carefree voices carrying through the crisp air.

I watched them for a moment, so full of life, innocence, and hope. Their laughter echoed something I’d forgotten how to feel lately. For a fleeting second, the heaviness inside me softened.

I sat on a nearby bench, my fingers unconsciously brushing the locket tucked safely in my coat pocket. Watching the kids play, I wondered what kind of future awaited my own child, if I could protect that innocent joy from the chaos that surrounded my own life.

The world around me felt a little less overwhelming for a moment. The locket’s quiet promise of strength and hope seemed to pulse gently against my skin, reminding me that even in the darkest storms, there was still a flicker of light.

And maybe, just maybe, that light was enough to keep me going.

As I sat on the bench, my thoughts swirling like the cool breeze, I noticed a small figure approaching hesitantly. A little boy, no more than five, with big curious eyes and a shy smile, stood before me, clutching a bright red toy car tightly in his small hands.

“Hi,” he said softly, tilting his head as if trying to understand me better. “Are you okay? You look… sad.”

I blinked, startled by his blunt honesty. For a moment, I just stared at him before managing a soft smile. “I’m okay, thank you. Just… thinking about some things.”

His eyes widened a little, and he plopped down on the bench beside me without waiting for an invitation. “Sometimes, I think about stuff too. Like my mommy and daddy.”

“That sounds important,” I said, my voice gentle. “What do you think about when you think about them?”

He looked off toward the lake, his small hands fiddling nervously with the wheels of his toy car. “I think about how much they love me. And sometimes, I wonder if they miss me when I’m not with them.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of recognition. “I wonder about that too. People we love can be far away sometimes, or things happen that make it hard to be close.”

He glanced at me, curious. “Do you have someone you love far away?”

I hesitated, then shook my head slightly, not ready to share my complicated truth with a child. “Maybe. But sometimes love is complicated, isn’t it?”

His face scrunched up in thought. “Yeah. My mommy says love can be like a puzzle. Sometimes pieces don’t fit, but you keep trying.”

I smiled wider now, touched by his simple wisdom. “That’s a very good way to think about it.”

He grinned proudly. “When I’m sad, I play with my car. It makes me happy.”

I looked down at the small locket in my hand, then back at the boy. “Maybe I should find something like that… something small to help me when I feel sad.”

“You should!” He beamed. “If you want, you can play with me sometime. I’ll show you all my cars!”

The warmth in my chest grew, a small spark of light breaking through the fog of my worries. “I’d like that very much.”

Standing up, I glanced around and noticed an ice cream cart nearby. “How about I buy you some ice cream? It’s a little treat for being such a wise little guy.”

His eyes lit up instantly. “Really? Yes, please!”

We walked over together, the simple joy of the moment washing over me. As he savored his ice cream, his laughter mingling with the children’s, I felt a rare, peaceful smile stretch across my face. Maybe, amidst all the chaos, there were still moments of sweetness worth holding onto.

As we settled back onto the bench, the little boy happily licking his ice cream cone, I found my eyes drawn once again to the small locket resting in my palm. Its delicate surface caught the soft sunlight, and for a moment, it felt like a quiet reminder of hope, a promise I desperately needed right now.

The boy noticed my gaze. “What’s that?” he asked, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.

I held up the locket gently. “This? It’s something very special to me. It reminds me to stay strong, even when things get tough.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “Does it work? Does it help?”

I smiled softly, feeling the unexpected comfort his innocence brought. “Yes. Sometimes it’s the little things, like this locket, or a friend to share ice cream with that make the hardest days a little easier.”

He nodded, as if understanding more than his years should allow. Then he asked, “Why do you need to be strong?”

I hesitated, not wanting to burden him with grown-up problems, but his earnest eyes made me want to answer. “Sometimes, life throws a lot at us all at once. People we love might not be around, or we face things we didn’t expect. It’s scary and hard.”

The boy chewed his lip, considering. “I get scared too, sometimes. Like when my mommy and daddy argue, or when I’m alone.”

“See?” I said, gently. “Even kids have worries. But being strong doesn’t mean never feeling scared. It means you keep going even when you are.”

He looked at me with a small, serious smile. “I’m strong. Because I know my mommy and daddy love me, even if they fight sometimes.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Love can be complicated, but it’s always there, in some way.”

He shifted on the bench, then asked, “Do you have a family?”

I nodded slowly. “I do. But sometimes, they’re far away. Or things between us are complicated.”

He seemed to think hard about that. “I think maybe your locket helps you remember the good parts.”

“Yes,” I whispered, holding the locket closer. “The good parts are what keep me going.”

He grinned widely and waved his ice cream cone in the air. “Then you should come play with me and my cars more. It’ll make you happy.”

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “I’d love that. Thank you for sharing your ice cream and your friendship.”

He beamed, his small face glowing in the sunlight. “You’re welcome! I hope you come back tomorrow!”

I smiled as the boy ran back to play with the other kids, but a sudden pang hit me. I called out softly, “Hey! wait. What’s your name?”

He turned around, eyes bright and curious. “I’m Nico! Why?”

I hesitated, the weight of reality pressing down on me. “It’s nice to meet you, Nico. You’ve made my day brighter.”

He grinned, his innocence a stark contrast to the heaviness in my chest. “I’m glad! Will you come back tomorrow?”

My smile faltered just a little. “I wish I could, but I’m going back home soon. To the Philippines.”

His eyes dimmed slightly, but he tried to smile anyway. “Oh. Well, I hope you have a safe trip.”

“Thank you, Nico. And thank you for reminding me how important it is to find little moments of happiness.”

He gave a small wave and ran off again, leaving me alone on the bench with the locket in my hand, a bittersweet reminder that some moments are meant to be treasured, even if they’re only for a little while.