Chapter 21

Rani’s Point Of View

It was already five in the afternoon, and my office looked like a war zone made entirely of paper. Contracts, financial reports, emails printed in haste, my desk was buried under deadlines. But I wasn’t letting that stop me.

Today was Faisal’s eleven-month mark.

Eleven months of being a mother. Eleven months of pretending, surviving, sacrificing. Eleven months of watching my son grow while my marriage crumbled beneath my heels. And tonight, tonight was the family dinner at Hidalgo Residences. Everyone would be there. Everyone. My parents. My sisters. Even Lamia’s clan, most likely. It was a celebration wrapped in tension, tradition held hostage by silence.

And I wasn’t going to be late.

I’d switched into high gear the moment I walked into the office. From morning meetings to frantic calls, to my assistant slash secretary Elise trying to keep up with my pace… it was all a blur. My heels practically caught fire with how fast I moved through the building. Flash. That’s what Elise called me when I entered the boardroom and signed off three stacks of documents in under ten minutes. “Ma’am, I swear you’re defying time today,” she had whispered earlier, clutching her tablet like it was a shield.

I didn’t even crack a smile. My only answer: “Faisal turns eleven months today.”

Because I wasn’t about to walk into that dinner late, looking exhausted, looking like I’d forgotten what day it was. No. I would walk into the Hidalgo residence like the woman I was his mother. The one who shows up. The one who always does, no matter what’s breaking behind her eyes.

Even if I’d barely slept last night.

Even if Lamia’s kiss on my forehead was still haunting me like a soft ghost.

Even if I couldn’t stop thinking about what it meant or if it meant anything at all.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I signed the last folder. Done.

I straightened my back, pulled my hair down from its tight chignon, letting the soft waves cascade over my shoulders. I still had to head to the penthouse, change into something appropriate, touch up my makeup, and keep myself from snapping if anyone mentioned us. The press would probably be outside, curious if we’d show up together. If we’d smile. If we’d lie.

But tonight wasn’t about me.

It was about Faisal.

My son. My light. My reason for pushing through all the chaos.

And for him, I’d always find a way to shine.

Even if it kills me.

The moment I signed the last page, I didn’t even bother stacking the papers. I stood up, grabbed my purse, and said a short instruction.

“Cancel the rest, Elise,” before I was already halfway to the elevator. She called something after me, probably about scheduling or rescheduling, but I didn’t look back.

I was running on precision. On instinct. On pressure.

It was already quarter past five when I slid into the backseat of the black Mercedes, my driver instinctively understanding the urgency in my silence. We sped through BGC, the golden light of early evening casting long shadows on glass buildings, as the familiar route toward the Hidalgo Residence rolled past in a blur of palm trees, gates, and guarded estates.

I stared out the window, watching the sky shift into soft pastels. My phone buzzed with messages… Kristof’s, my mother’s, even Lamia’s, but I didn’t answer any of them. I had no energy to play nice through text.

The Hidalgo Residences came into view just before six. The gates swung open like they knew who I was, and maybe they did. I was the eldest daughter, after all. The one who always arrived poised, perfect, presentable. Tonight, I wore an off-shoulder ivory satin blouse and sharp black trousers, diamond studs glinting subtly against my ears, and my lips painted in my signature deep wine shade. Unapologetically composed.

But inside?

My heart was a mess of things.

Faisal’s 11th month. He was almost a year old. And the thought alone nearly broke me.

The guards bowed their heads as I stepped out, heels clicking against the familiar marbled walkway leading to the front doors of my family home. Warm yellow lights spilled from the chandeliers inside, and I could already hear laughter echoing from the dining hall. My family had started without me… but of course they had. The Hidalgos never waited for anyone, not even the eldest daughter who never missed a beat.

I paused at the front door for one breath. Just one.

Then I stepped in, spine straight, chin high.

“Ma’am Rani,” one of the maids greeted, almost breathless. “Naghihintay na po silang lahat sa dining area”

I nodded once. “Good. Let them know I’m here.”

And with that, I walked down the grand hallway, my heels announcing my arrival with every click. A painting of me hung at the hallway’s end, back when I was twenty, young, radiant, naïve.

Now?

Now I was still radiant. But I was no longer naïve.

And tonight, I’d sit beside my fractured marriage and perfect child like it was all normal.

Because I’m Rani Hidalgo.

And I never crack in public.

The chandelier above the dining hall cast golden reflections against the long, polished mahogany table where everyone was already seated. The clink of silverware, the quiet murmurs of conversation, it all paused the second I stepped into the room.

I saw them immediately.

My mother, regal in emerald silk, seated at the head of the table, her posture as flawless as ever. My father, beside her, swirling wine in his glass with a contemplative stare. My siblings scattered around, some mid-conversation, some politely waiting. The air smelled of roasted lamb and saffron rice, the usual Hidalgo celebratory dinner fare.

But it was the sight at the far end of the table that made my heel falter, just for a split second.

Lamia.

Seated at the very end, right beside the high chair that wasn’t being used because Faisal was in her lap.

Her arm curled around him naturally, protectively. She was saying something to him quietly, making him giggle in that sweet, wheezy laugh of his, his tiny hand tugging gently at her hair.

They were all waiting for me. Of course.

I let a beat of silence stretch out before I let my signature smile fall into place, polished, confident, and effortless.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said smoothly, walking in with the same diva grace that’s in my blood. “Duty calls.”

Mama smiled softly, already signaling one of the maids to pull out the chair beside Lamia for me. Babba gave me a single approving nod. No lectures about punctuality tonight, probably because they knew I was balancing a company, a crumbling marriage, and a child.

I took my seat, the clink of silverware and muted chatter returning as I smoothed my napkin across my lap. I didn’t bother glancing at Lamia, not at first. I could feel her eyes on me though.

Faisal reached out with both arms the moment he saw me, babbling something incoherent and sweet.

My wall cracked… just a little. Just for him.

I took him gently into my arms, kissing his cheek as he nestled into me like he always did. My son. My boy. My reason for enduring every storm I didn’t ask for.

“Hi, baby,” I whispered against his forehead. “Mama’s here.”

And just like that, the room moved on, forks clinking, wine pouring, polite laughter echoing. Just another perfect Hidalgo dinner on the outside.

But under the surface, I could still feel the tension coiled between me and Lamia.

And her silence?

That was louder than anything else in the room.

Dinner began with the soft clatter of cutlery and the usual round of pleasantries, small talk about recent travels, a comment on the wine pairing, a few compliments thrown toward Mama for the food, which she acknowledged with her typical half-smile that meant she expected nothing less.

But it didn’t take long for the real topic of the night to surface.

“So,” said my sister, Rabina, setting down her wine glass and leaning slightly forward, “how’s the energy portfolio reshaping going, Rani? Heard you closed that Laguna site fast.”

I dabbed at the corner of my mouth with my napkin, lifting my chin with a cool smirk. “Closed it yesterday, actually. They tried to stall me with regulatory excuses, but I reminded them who they were dealing with.”

A few chuckles rolled down the table. My father nodded, clearly pleased. “That site’s been a thorn in our side for three years. I’m glad someone finally cleaned up the mess.”

“I cleaned it up,” I corrected, glancing at him with a lift of my brow. “And I signed a new joint venture yesterday, so that mess turned into another ten-year opportunity.”

There were impressed murmurs, as expected. I let them soak in, just for a moment. That kind of power, that presence… I’d earned it.

But out of the corner of my eye, I could feel Lamia watching me. Not saying anything. Not chiming in like she usually would during business talk. Not sparring with me with that sharp tongue of hers. Just quiet. Observing.

Mama chimed in next, her voice as gentle as it was pointed. “What about you, Lamia? How are things on your side of the empire?”

Lamia sat up a bit straighter, passing Faisal a piece of soft bread before replying. “Steady,” she said, her voice calm, composed, just as always. “We just finalized the strategic transition into the Southeast corridor. Oil transport’s being rerouted to reduce costs and expand coverage.”

“That’s a bold move,” Luqman Omar said with a nod. “That corridor’s packed.”

“It is,” she agreed. “But we built the pipes. We know them better than anyone.”

There it was, her own brand of dominance. No need to brag. Just drop the facts like live wires and let them buzz on the table.

I didn’t look at her. I didn’t have to. I could feel her heat, how her words were meant to remind them that she, too, was a force to be reckoned with.

Babba leaned back in his chair, clearly satisfied. “I always knew the two of you were dangerous together,” he said with a smile that was half-pride, half-pressure. “The best minds in this room. And still under one roof. It’s fate.”

I smiled politely at that. Fate? No. More like obligation, dressed up in expensive clothes and family expectations.

“Dangerous,” I echoed under my breath as I sipped my wine, “can go both ways, Babba.”

He didn’t hear me.

Lamia did.

And for a second, just a blink of a moment, I felt her stare drop, not out of shame, but maybe something else.

Something I couldn’t name. Not yet.

The conversation continued, talk of land holdings and shipping routes, IPO rumors and offshore expansions. Faisal eventually dozed off in my arms, and I held him like he was the only soft thing left in my world.

And still, I didn’t look at her.

Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep pretending.

——

After the plates were cleared and the final glasses of wine drained, I stood up from the table with Faisal sleeping soundly against my shoulder. The weight of him felt different tonight, warmer, heavier, like a grounding anchor after hours of talking about profits, pipelines, and pretending.

No one stopped me as I slipped away from the dining room. No one asked questions. Maybe they knew I needed a moment. Maybe they knew not to ask.

I pushed open the double glass doors that led to the balcony of the Hidalgo Residences, my family’s home, the same view I’d grown up with. The sky stretched wide and silent above us, scattered stars peeking behind the city haze. The air was cool, and I pulled Faisal closer to me, my hand gently rubbing his back through the soft cotton of his onesie.

It was just me and him. Just the two of us. Finally.

I sank into one of the wrought-iron chairs in the corner of the balcony, letting the silence wrap around us like a second blanket. The soft hum of traffic far below filled the space, but up here, it felt like another world entirely.

I looked down at his tiny face, his cheeks round and flushed, his lips parted slightly as he dreamed. He didn’t know how messy everything was. He didn’t know the weight of his name, or the legacy, or the silence that sat between his parents every night like a third presence.

“Happy eleven months, my love,” I whispered against his forehead, pressing a kiss there gently. “You have no idea how much I’ve fought just to keep it together for you.”

My voice trembled, but I didn’t cry. Not tonight. I was too tired for tears.

I glanced over the edge of the balcony, watching the lights flicker below. In another life, maybe it would’ve been different. Maybe Lamia and I wouldn’t have been two weapons pointed at each other under one roof. Maybe I wouldn’t have to sit on cold balconies at night, wondering how much longer I could hold on.

“I don’t know what we’re doing, baby,” I murmured. “Your Mama keeps saying she’ll fix it. She keeps sending flowers and notes and promises. But I don’t know if love can grow from this much damage. Or if we ever even planted love to begin with.”

He stirred a little in my arms, shifting his head closer to the curve of my neck. I closed my eyes and held him tighter.

“Whatever happens, I’ll make sure you don’t feel it,” I promised. “You’ll never have to wonder who’s staying. I’ll always be here.”

The wind picked up, rustling the trees below. Somewhere in the house, the sound of laughter echoed, faint and far away. I stayed where I was, wrapped in my son’s warmth, and let the night wrap around me like a quiet prayer.

For peace.

For clarity.

For strength.

And maybe… for something to finally make sense.

sat quietly on the balcony’s edge, the cool night breeze brushing against my skin as Faisal rested peacefully in my arms. The city lights below flickered like distant stars, but my mind was far from their gentle glow.

Suddenly, the sliding door creaked open behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, Lamia’s presence was unmistakable. Her silhouette framed against the warm light of the dining room, poised and elegant as ever.

She stepped onto the balcony, closing the door softly behind her. For a moment, we just stood there, two women who shared everything yet were torn apart by so much. The silence between us was thick, filled with years of bitterness and unspoken words.

Finally, she spoke, her voice low but steady. “Rani… I know things have been hard. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m here now. For Faisal. For us.”

I glanced down at Faisal’s small face, feeling the fierce protectiveness swell inside me. Slowly, I met her eyes, cold, wary, but not without a flicker of something else.

“Words aren’t enough anymore, Lamia,” I said softly. “But maybe… actions will be.”

She nodded, a faint but genuine determination softening her features. “I’ll prove it. I swear, I will.”

The night stretched around us, quiet except for the city below and the steady rhythm of our son’s breathing. For the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to hope, not for love, maybe never that, but for a fragile peace, for our family’s sake.

I shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Faisal as he stirred softly in my arms. The night air was crisp, but I refused to let it chill the fiery thoughts running through my mind.

“So,” I began, my voice dripping with that signature sharpness only I could pull off, “Faisal’s first birthday is next month. Can you believe it? One whole year of this little tyrant running our lives.”

Lamia smiled… more amused than anything. “He’s not a tyrant, Rani. He’s our son. And we should make his birthday perfect.”

I arched an elegant brow, setting Faisal gently on my lap. “Perfect? Darling, if it’s going to be perfect, I’m the one in charge. We’re talking luxury, balloons, a cake that’s a work of art, a guest list that actually matters. No dull family gatherings where everyone’s pretending to be civil.”

She chuckled softly, folding her hands calmly. “Of course. But it’s also about Faisal feeling loved. Not just a show.”

I gave her a side-eye, my diva mask slipping for a split second. “Please. You don’t get to lecture me about love. I’ve been the one sacrificing my dignity all this time. But fine, I’ll let you plan the ‘feelings’ part. Just don’t forget who’s throwing the party.”

Lamia’s eyes sparkled with that fierce determination I both admired and loathed. “I want us to do this together, Rani. For Faisal. No more war between us. We owe him that much.”

I let out a long breath, swirling the cool air around my words like a seasoned performer. “We’ll see. For now, just don’t mess with my vision of elegance and style. This birthday will be talked about for years… whether you like it or not.”

She grinned, standing a bit closer, her voice softer but unyielding. “Deal. For Faisal.”

I glanced down at our son, my son, and the sharp edges of my heart softened just a fraction. Maybe, just maybe, the diva and the fighter in me could share this one moment with Lamia.

“For Faisal,” I repeated, voice low, but fierce. “No matter what.”

——

I had just handed Faisal over to Nina when Babba’s voice sliced through the hallway like it always did, firm and undeniable.

“Rani, anak, don’t drive tonight. Just ride with Lamia. She has the baby anyway.”

I blinked, lips slightly parted. I was already halfway to the driveway, stilettos clicking against the marble, car keys in hand. My baby blue Porsche was parked elegantly by the hedges, waiting like it always did, beautiful, powerful, mine. But apparently, not tonight.

I turned slowly, forcing a small smile because it was Babba asking, and when it came to him, even I… Rani Hidalgo, diva extraordinaire, knew when not to push.

“Okay, Babba,” I said, voice polished, serene, almost bored, like it was the most obvious answer. “If you insist.”

And just like that, I pivoted with grace only five-inch heels and years of poise could provide, walking toward Lamia’s car. The driver was already loading the gifts in the back, and through the tinted glass, I could see Lamia inside, holding Faisal on her lap.

Of course she didn’t step out. Typical.

I slid into the passenger seat, crossing one leg over the other, adjusting my fur-lined shawl with exaggerated elegance. I didn’t speak. I didn’t even look at her. Let her make the first move if she wanted something.

The car began to move, the silence thick. Faisal babbled quietly in the back, his chubby fingers playing with Lamia’s necklace as if none of the tension existed between his two mothers.

“Thank you for riding with us,” Lamia said eventually, her voice low, like she was trying not to ruin the peace.

I didn’t look at her. “It wasn’t exactly a choice.”

She nodded once. “Still. I’m glad.”

I turned then, only slightly, enough to offer her a glance from the side. “Don’t get used to it.”

She smiled faintly, like she expected that answer from me. She probably did.

I leaned my head against the window, watching the lights of the city blur by. My mind was already running through tomorrow’s schedule, contracts, board meetings, a lunch with the Hidalgo Group marketing team. Anything to distract me from the fact that I was stuck in a car with the woman I used to hate, married to her still, tied to her by blood, law… and our son.

Faisal laughed behind me, and for a moment, just a flicker of one, I softened.

Maybe Babba knew what he was doing. Maybe.

But I wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

So I stayed quiet, flawless, untouchable… as always.

Heels discarded, legs crossed at the ankle, arms draped lazily across my lap as I leaned against the car door. The ride from Hidalgo Residence back to the penthouse was quiet, too quiet, save for the soft hum of the tires against the road and the occasional voice from the radio the driver must’ve forgotten to turn off.

Faisal was asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with that impossible calm that only babies could manage. I glanced at him briefly. Eleven months old today. My son. My reason. My everything.

Lamia hadn’t said much since dinner. She’d been surprisingly quiet, no grand declarations tonight, no bouquets shoved in my face, no teary apologies disguised as strength.

Just silence.

Which, from her, was almost scarier.

Nina sat in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing back, smiling that knowing little smile of hers like she was watching a rom-com unfold in real time. I ignored her.

Then I felt it.

A slow, soft weight against my shoulder.

I turned slightly, barely, just enough to confirm what I already suspected.

Lamia.

Asleep.

Her head had slumped gently to the side, landing squarely on my shoulder like it had always belonged there. Her breathing was even, lips slightly parted, strands of her dark hair tickling my jaw. Her body was relaxed, completely unguarded in a way I’d never seen her outside of sleep. She didn’t even stir when the car hit a slight bump on EDSA.

I froze.

Of course I froze.

This woman… my wife, technically, was the same person who made my life hell on most days, the same one who lied to me, who hurt me, who broke things between us I’m not sure can ever be repaired.

And yet…

Here she was. Asleep on my shoulder like none of that had happened.

I didn’t move. Not because I wanted her there… no. Of course not. But because something in me tightened at the idea of waking her up. It wasn’t softness. It wasn’t affection. It was something else. Something quieter. Something that hurt.

Maybe it was for Faisal. Maybe it was because I was too tired to shrug her off. Maybe because, deep down, I hated that I missed what we never really had.

I let her stay.

Just for now.

But I didn’t lean into her.

I wouldn’t give her that.

——

As soon as we pulled into the private entrance of the tower, I straightened up, the leather seat creaking faintly beneath me. The dim parking lights cast a soft glow inside the car, enough to remind me that the quiet was about to end. We were home… if I could still call it that.

Lamia’s head was still on my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of her cheek through the thin fabric of my blouse, the rise and fall of her breathing gentle and steady. If I closed my eyes, I could almost trick myself into thinking things were normal. Peaceful, even. Like we were some happy couple driving home with their child after a perfect family dinner.

But we weren’t.

None of this was perfect. And we were far from happy.

I inhaled sharply, my perfectly glossed lips pressed into a line as I tapped her shoulder twice. Firm, not tender.

“Hey,” I said, voice smooth but cold. “We’re here. Wake up.”

She stirred with a slow, disoriented blink, her lashes fluttering before she realized where she was, and more importantly, who she was leaning on. She pulled back, straightening quickly, her expression unreadable in the shadows.

I didn’t look at her. I focused on unclipping Faisal’s seatbelt with practiced ease, my manicured hands gentle on his small frame as I lifted him out of his seat.

“You fell asleep,” I muttered as I opened the door, stepping out with my son in my arms and the kind of grace only a diva could master, even after a long day in stilettos and business deals.

Lamia didn’t reply.

Good. I wasn’t in the mood for her lines tonight.

Nina followed behind as we walked toward the private elevator. I didn’t wait for Lamia. I didn’t glance back. I simply walked forward, heels clicking against the marble, baby safe in my arms, heart locked behind designer steel.

Let her catch up if she wanted.

As soon as the elevator doors slid open and we stepped into the quiet, dimly lit penthouse, I shifted Faisal in my arms, letting his head rest on my shoulder. Nina walked ahead to prepare his room while I headed straight for the main living area, ready to end the night and disappear into the silence of my own space.

But just as I was about to turn toward Faisal’s room, Lamia’s voice broke through the stillness behind me.

“Rani,” she said, not quite loud, but firm enough that I had to pause.

I turned my head halfway, eyes narrowed with that practiced calm I wore like armor. “What?”

She stood near the closed elevator doors, not even having taken off her heels yet. Her blazer hung open, and her hands were in her pockets, her posture relaxed, but her tone wasn’t.

“Are you available tomorrow?” she asked directly.

I blinked slowly. “What kind of question is that?”

She took a step closer, but not enough to invade my space. “I just need to know if you’re free. There’s something important I want to do. For Faisal. For us.”

I exhaled through my nose, jaw clenching. “If it’s another dinner, skip it. If it’s flowers, don’t waste your budget. And if it’s to pretend like this thing we have isn’t broken, Lamia, please… I’m exhausted.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “It’s none of those.”

“Then what?” I asked, shifting Faisal gently as I raised a brow, already halfway turned away.

“You’ll know tomorrow,” she said, voice low. “Just… tell me if you’re free.”

I looked her up and down, lips pressed tight. The diva in me wanted to snap back, walk off, dismiss her with a toss of my hair and the sting of a sarcastic remark. But I was holding my son, and tonight, I didn’t want another argument echoing in his ears.

I let out a sharp breath and shook my head lightly. “No. I won’t be here tomorrow.”

Her lips parted, but I raised a hand before she could ask another question. “I’m going to Santa Rosa early this morning, and I’ll be staying at my house there until the next day. I have a site visit in Laguna early. It’s not a social trip it’s work.”

Lamia blinked, that familiar flicker of surprise flashing across her eyes, quickly replaced by that stubborn poise we both mastered too well.

“I see,” she said quietly, nodding once.

“Good,” I muttered, shifting Faisal and walking toward the hallway.

Behind me, the soft rustle of Lamia finally slipping off her heels reached my ears, but I didn’t turn back.

Let her sit in the silence. Let her wonder. Because tomorrow, I wouldn’t be around to play whatever game she was starting. I had buildings to check, people to manage, and my own damn name to protect. Lamia Al-Gaddafi could keep her mystery plans.

I’d be in Laguna, in control. Just the way I like it.

I was halfway down the hall, Faisal’s soft breaths brushing against my neck, when I heard her voice again, steady, certain, impossible to ignore.

“Then I’ll go to Santa Rosa tomorrow,” Lamia said.

I stopped in my tracks, shoulders stiffening. I turned my head just enough to glance over my shoulder. “You didn’t hear me? I said I have a full schedule. Morning till evening. Site visit, then back-to-back meetings. It’s not exactly a scenic tour, Lamia.”

“I know,” she replied without missing a beat, walking a few steps toward me, arms crossed loosely. “I’m still going.”

Of course she is.

I turned my head fully this time, eyes narrowing, my voice coated with a forced calm. “And what exactly do you plan to do there while I’m buried in contractors and boardrooms? Wait around in the parking lot like a stalker ex-wife?”

Her chin lifted slightly, expression unreadable. “I’ll figure it out.”

I stared at her, lips parting to say something, anything to stop this nonsense, but the words caught in my throat. She wasn’t playing this time. She was serious. And God, that was even more irritating.

So I said nothing.

I turned away without another word, marched straight into Faisal’s room, and gently laid him in his crib. I adjusted the soft blanket around him, brushed a kiss against his forehead, and closed the lights behind me.

Let her follow if she wants. Let her try. But I wasn’t going to entertain it.

Not tonight. Not tomorrow.

She wants to chase?

Then let her run.