Chapter 13

Rani’s Point Of View

A month had passed, and if I thought anything would change, I was fooling myself. Lamia’s reckless game continued, meeting Peterson in shadows, whispers, behind the backs of our parents and the prying eyes of the media. The city buzzed with rumors, but no one could touch her. No one except me.

I knew.

Every secret meeting, every stolen kiss in dim-lit bars, every quick phone call with hushed tones, I had eyes and ears everywhere. And sometimes, when I wasn’t looking, Peterson showed up at our penthouse.

The nerve.

He’d saunter through the front door like he owned the place, lounging on the velvet sofa as if it were his throne, making himself comfortable in the heart of the warzone between Lamia and me.

I’d watch from the kitchen, muscles tense, jaw clenched, counting seconds until he left. I never confronted him… yet. I didn’t have to. His presence was a slap in the face, a reminder of everything Lamia wanted but refused to give up.

And me? I stayed silent, a coiled storm beneath the surface, holding onto the secret growing inside me tighter than ever.

Because no matter how much she threw herself at Peterson, no matter how reckless she was, I was the one carrying our future.

And that future wasn’t going anywhere. Not without a fight.

The skyline of BGC shimmered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, a sea of glass towers bathing in gold sunlight. I was seated behind my desk, ankles crossed, fingers gliding over reports with the practiced grace of a woman who ruled her empire in heels and diamonds, even if she hadn’t kept a single meal down all day.

I was halfway through drafting a proposal when the door opened without warning. Elise peeked in, her face glowing with that annoying kind of amusement that meant only one thing: drama.

“Ma’am, someone’s here to see you,” she said, already stepping aside.

And then he walked in.

Damian Alonzo.

Polished, wealthy, dangerous in that clean, boy-next-door-who-secretly-runs-a-global-conglomerate way. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than some people’s apartments, with that lazy, confident smile that made secretaries swoon and boardrooms listen.

In his hand, a bouquet of fresh orchids, white with soft lilac edges. My favorite.

Damn him.

“Rani,” he said smoothly, stepping inside like he’d been here a thousand times, like he hadn’t been dodging my indifference for the past two years. “You’re impossible to get a lunch meeting with, so I figured I’d improvise.”

I leaned back in my chair, eyebrow arching. “This is your idea of business etiquette? Flowers and no appointment?”

He placed the bouquet gently on the edge of my desk, his eyes never leaving mine. “Only for you.”

I looked at the orchids but didn’t touch them. “You’re wasting your time, Damian.”

He chuckled, sinking into the chair across from me like he belonged there. “You’ve been saying that since the first time we met, and yet, here we are. Still talking.”

I crossed my legs and gave him my best ice-queen smile. “Because you don’t listen.”

He tilted his head, gaze softening just slightly. “Or maybe I see something in you that you’re too stubborn to see in yourself.”

For a second, I faltered. Not visibly. Never visibly. But inside?

I thought of Lamia.

Of Peterson.

Of the baby growing quietly in my body… hers, mine, but known to no one but me and Patricia.

I flicked my gaze back to Damian, all poise and power again. “Business or flirting, Damian? Because I don’t mix the two.”

He smirked. “Then you’d better decide which one you want from me.”

And with that, he stood, straightened his jacket, and turned to leave. “Enjoy the flowers, Rani. I’ll see you soon.”

The door closed behind him, leaving the scent of orchids and a trail of chaos in his wake.

And me?

I just sat there, staring at the bouquet, fingers resting on my belly.

What a perfectly stupid time to be wanted.

The office still smelled faintly of orchids, annoyingly soft and sweet, completely wrong for the kind of morning I was having. Damian really had the gall to walk in here like I was a prize to be won, like I had nothing better to do than be flattered.

The door creaked open again. Elise stepped in with her usual smug smirk, clutching her clipboard like it was a fashion accessory.

“So…” she began, one brow arched. “Si Damian Alonzo nga talaga ‘yon, Ma’am? Grabe. Literal na naglakad ang guwapong problema ng mundo.”

I didn’t bother to look up from the papers in front of me. “No appointment. Walang respeto. May dala pang bouquet like this is high school.”

Elise walked toward my desk, peering at the orchids like they offended her existence. “Pero Ma’am… orchids ‘to. Paborito niyo ‘to, ‘di ba? Baka naman may konting kilig kahit papaano?”

I gave her the iciest stare I could manage. “Elise, I am married. And allergic to men with savior complexes.”

She grinned. “Married, yes. Pero ‘yung asawa niyo, kung saan-saan nagpupunta kasama si Peterson.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know. She thinks I don’t, but I do. Every lunch meeting, every late night, every penthouse visit… alam ko lahat. Gusto niya magpaka-martyr sa public image? Fine. Let her.”

“Grabe, Ma’am. Kung ako ‘yan, baka sinabunutan ko na si Ma’am Lamia. Or at least pinatawag ko na ang media para may pa-press release,” Elise muttered as she circled to my side. “Pero ikaw kasi, Ma’am, classic ka eh. Pa-chill pero may plot twist.”

“Exactly.” I leaned back in my chair. “Let them make fools of themselves. I don’t have to lift a finger. And when everything falls apart, I’ll be standing exactly where I’ve always been.”

Elise tilted her head at the bouquet. “So… Ma’am, anong gagawin natin dito sa bouquet ni Mr. Trying-Too-Hard?”

“Padala mo kay Patricia,” I said without missing a beat. “Sabihin mo mystery admirer. Initials D.A. Tingnan natin kung ‘di siya mapa-hiyaw.”

Elise laughed. “Copy po, Ma’am. Tapos pag nagpa-party siya dahil dito, sabihan ko si Sir Kristof. Para may chismis agad.”

“Perfect,” I muttered.

And with that, she strutted out, clipboards, orchids, and all, leaving behind a room filled with power, perfume, and secrets I intended to keep.

They can play their games. But in this empire, I’m still the one holding the crown.

——

By the time the clock hit six, I was already on my way out of the office, heels sharp against the marble floors, blazer thrown over one arm, lips painted in a deep, unapologetic red. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. Elise knew better than to ask where I was headed.

The elevator ride down was silent. The chauffeured car waited downstairs, engine humming like it knew the mood I was in. My head rested lightly against the window as the skyline of BGC began to dim, city lights flickering to life like diamonds in the dusk.

The moment I stepped into our penthouse, the scent of home, the faint lavender from Nina’s diffuser, the polished wood, a hint of baby powder washed over me. The place was too quiet. Always was these days.

But tonight… it wasn’t empty.

“Ma’am Rani!” Manang Sally greeted from the kitchen, apron still tied around her waist, but I wasn’t listening.

Because right there in the living room, standing like he owned the place, was Kristof.

And in his arms… Faisal.

My son.

“Look who’s here,” Kristof said with a grin, bouncing Faisal gently. “Ang bigat na niya, ha. He’s definitely got your attitude.”

Faisal gave a little squeal, his tiny fist gripping Kristof’s shirt, cheeks flushed, eyes wide like he just knew Mommy was home.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

I walked toward them, heels clicking softer now against the wooden floor. My fingers itched to hold him, to feel that warmth I’d missed all day.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, taking Faisal from him gently, burying my face in the crook of his neck as he let out a happy giggle.

Kristof shrugged and flopped onto the couch, arms stretched out like he owned it. “Manang Sally said Lamia’s not around. Patricia’s busy. So I figured you needed some decent company.”

I looked at him over Faisal’s shoulder, deadpan. “And you thought you counted as decent company?”

He gave a dramatic gasp. “Rude. After I rescued your heir from the clutches of boredom? Faisal and I were bonding. I was teaching him how to judge people silently. He’s a natural.”

Faisal let out another squeal and I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

It didn’t matter how chaotic the day had been, how bitter the war behind these walls still burned, this moment, holding him, was peace.

Even if just for now.

I sank into the sofa, Faisal tucked securely in my arms, his tiny hand grabbing at my necklace like he owned me. He probably did. His soft little breaths against my neck grounded me more than anything else had all week.

Across from me, Kristof stretched out like he paid the rent in this penthouse. His hair was still wet from whatever expensive grooming he did earlier, his shirt slightly wrinkled like he barely made an effort to look presentable and yet, somehow, still managed to look like a magazine spread.

Then he looked at me.

No… he squinted.

“Wait…” he said slowly, cocking his head to the side. “Rani, is it just me or is your stomach looking… suspiciously rounder?”

I froze, fingers curling protectively around Faisal’s back. “It’s called bloating,” I muttered, not even bothering to look at him.

Kristof gasped dramatically. “Girl, please. Ilang beses na kitang nakitang bloated after five cheese rolls from Mary Grace. This isn’t bloating. That…” he pointed with a full flourish “is a baby bump.”

I glared at him. “Lower your voice. The maids are around.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying this too much. “You’re pregnant. Aren’t you?”

I stood up, adjusting Faisal on my hip with one arm, brushing invisible lint off my dress with the other. “Yes. And before you ask… no, Lamia doesn’t know. And she’s not going to.”

Kristof blinked. “Wait, what? You didn’t tell her? Wasn’t the IVF her… wait… is this her egg again?”

I stared at him flatly. “Yes.”

He let out a sound that was part gasp, part laugh. “Oh my God. You’re carrying her baby again and she has no idea?”

“I don’t owe her anything,” I said coolly. “She’s out there parading around with Peterson like she’s still single. And I’m here, running this business, raising Faisal, and now…” I touched my stomach briefly. “…handling everything on my own.”

Kristof whistled low. “Damn. Mahilig ka talaga sa plot twist, bakla ka.”

I turned to him sharply. “Not a word to anyone.”

He raised both hands. “Please. I’m the vault. But I gotta say… this is next-level, Rani. Even for you.”

“I don’t start wars, Kris. I just make sure I finish them.”

He grinned. “That’s why you’re the queen and everyone else is background noise.”

I gave him one last look… sharp, knowing, untouchable then turned to head upstairs with Faisal slowly falling asleep on my shoulder.

Kristof’s voice floated after me, soft with amusement. “Lamia doesn’t even know the storm she’s about to walk into.”

I didn’t answer.

But deep inside, I thought…
She never saw me coming. And by the time she does, it’ll already be too late.

Kristof smirked, leaning back against the armrest of the sofa as he watched me cradle Faisal. “You really are something else, Rani. Using her own egg, carrying her baby without her knowing… That’s savage.”

I glanced at him, raising a brow. “You think this is some game?”

He shrugged with a sly grin. “Maybe. But it’s the most entertaining game in town. You’re playing chess while everyone else is stuck on checkers.”

I scoffed softly. “They don’t even know the board we’re on.”

Kristof’s expression softened for a moment. “You’ve got this, Rani. Seriously. But if you ever need backup…”

I cut him off with a small smile, “You’re my best friend. You already are my backup.”

He gave a short nod, eyes warm but teasing. “Then just don’t make me choose sides when this all blows up.”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of everything settle deeper inside me. “There won’t be sides. There’ll only be one winner.”

Kristof laughed, standing up and stretching. “That’s the Rani I know. Now, let me know when you want to celebrate. Because this… this is going to be legendary.”

I watched him sit back up to the sofa, then turned back to Faisal… my son, my anchor, and the reason I would fight harder than ever.

The war was far from over. But for once, I was ready.

——

The evening was quiet as we settled at the dining table, Faisal asleep in his crib, the soft clinking of silverware and low hum of the city outside the windows the only sounds filling the room. Kristof was recounting some ridiculous office story, his voice animated as he gestured with his fork, and I found myself almost smiling. For a fleeting second, the chaos seemed miles away.

Then the door opened.

Lamia stepped in, her presence slicing through the calm like a blade. The moment she entered, the sharp scent of a man’s cologne hit me, rich, musky, unmistakably foreign to our home.

She didn’t bother to hide it. No hesitation. No guilt. Just the faintest smirk playing on her lips, like she was daring me to say something.

I stiffened, eyes narrowing as I stared at her.

Kristof caught it too, his fork pausing mid-air. “Wow,” he muttered under his breath, a mix of surprise and disdain.

Lamia sauntered toward the table, settling into her chair with an easy arrogance. “Dinner looks nice,” she said coolly, glancing between us. “Didn’t expect you to invite company.”

I forced my voice smooth, dripping with sugar-coated venom. “Kristof’s my best friend. Something you should remember.”

Her eyes flicked to Kristof, then back to me, sharp and calculating. “Right. The loyal knight.”

The air between us thickened with unspoken war. I touched my stomach subtly beneath the table, a reminder of the secret she would never suspect but that was already tipping the scales.

Lamia leaned back, folding her arms. “So, what’s the occasion? A little family dinner? Or are you just showing off?”

I met her gaze evenly. “Just making sure our son grows up surrounded by the right people.”

Her smirk twisted. “Funny. I was about to say the same. Only difference is, I’m still part of that family.”

The subtle scent of the cologne lingered, her silent declaration that she was still playing a game I was determined to win.

I took a slow breath, the war far from over, but for now… the battle lines were drawn clearly at the dining table.

Kristof cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. “Lamia, since you’re here, that cologne is pretty strong. Whose is it?” His smirk was sharp, almost daring her to slip.

Lamia shrugged, unbothered, a cool smile playing on her lips. “Just something new I’m trying. Like a change.” Her eyes flicked to me, challenging without saying a word.

I kept my voice smooth but frosty. “Must be nice, changing things up so easily while some of us juggle a lot more.”

She laughed softly, the sound low and mocking. “Juggling? If you say so. But appearances can be deceiving, Rani.”

I leaned in, my gaze steady. “Appearances don’t fool me. You might want to be more careful with your scent though… it’s loud, just like your games.”

Her smile didn’t falter. “Games? I don’t play games, sweetheart. I just live my life.”

I said nothing, hiding the truth I carried deep inside. She had no idea about the pregnancy… not yet. And that secret was mine alone.

Lamia’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the shift but not knowing why. “Well, enjoy your dinner,” she said, her tone casual but with an edge as she stood up.

Kristof exchanged a look with me, silent, knowing this wasn’t over.

As she walked away, the scent of that cologne lingered, a reminder that while she thought she was winning, the real battle had only just begun.

——

The soft glow of the bedside lamps barely softened the tension simmering in our shared bedroom. Lamia and I had both finished our night routines, flawless skin, perfectly styled hair, but eyes sharp and unreadable, like two predators sizing each other up even in silence.

She caught my reflection in the mirror and cocked an eyebrow with that signature smirk. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Rani. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue, or are you scared I’ll roast you again?”

Without turning, I crossed my arms, voice smooth but icy. “Please. I’m not in the mood to waste my breath on someone who can’t handle the truth. Unlike you, I save my energy for things that matter.”

Lamia chuckled darkly, stepping closer so our reflections nearly touched. “Save your energy? Or maybe you’re just hiding something. You’ve been acting strange lately… what’s your secret, diva? Don’t tell me it’s a new skincare routine or that you’ve finally learned to cook.”

I let out a soft laugh, cold and sharp. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. And besides, I doubt you’d remember it past five minutes… too busy living in your own little world.”

Her eyes glittered with amusement and something more dangerous. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re always full of hot air. I wonder if you even know what’s real anymore.”

I turned to face her finally, stepping closer until the space between us was electric. My voice dropped, venomous but controlled. “Better to be full of hot air than hollow and empty like you.”

Lamia’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Ouch. You’re on fire tonight. Did someone finally poke the bear?”

I smiled, every bit the queen she loved to hate. “I’m not the one sneaking around, pretending like life’s a game. At least I own my mess.”

Her smirk faltered for a flicker of a second, but she masked it instantly. “Keep telling yourself that while you hide behind your perfect little facade.”

The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy, but neither of us blinked. This was the dance we knew too well, sharp words as weapons, nothing left unsaid.

Finally, Lamia grabbed a towel and tossed it over her shoulder, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sleep well tonight, Rani. Try not to dream about me too much. I know I’m the star of your nightmares.”

I smirked back as I reached to turn off the light. “Sweet dreams, Lamia. Just remember… when morning comes, I’m the one who wins.”

The room plunged into darkness, but the war between us was far from over. The night was just another battlefield.

The darkness wrapped around the room, but my mind refused to quiet. Lamia’s words, her smirk, that intoxicating arrogance, they all lingered, gnawing at me. I lay still, fingers tracing faint circles on the sheet over my belly, the secret I carried tightening like a clenched fist inside me.

I thought about how little she knew, how oblivious she was to what was really happening beneath my calm surface. And that knowledge gave me a bitter satisfaction, a quiet power in this endless war.

Minutes ticked by, and then came the soft creak of footsteps. Lamia wasn’t done. She slipped out of her side of the room, pausing just behind me.

Without turning, I heard her whisper, low and dangerous, “You think you’re winning? This isn’t just about you, Rani. It never was.”

Her breath was warm against my neck, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I let my voice drip with icy resolve. “Maybe it’s about time you realized I’m playing for keeps.”

A silence fell again thick and charged. Neither of us moved, but the battle raged on in the quiet.

Finally, Lamia’s voice softened just a fraction. “Don’t get comfortable. This game? It’s far from over.”

I closed my eyes, a small, fierce smile curving my lips. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

The night stretched on, and even as exhaustion tugged at my body, my mind was sharp, ready for whatever came next. Because no matter how savage she was, no matter how many games she played with Peterson or whatever secret worlds she hid in… I was here. I was fighting. And I wasn’t going anywhere.

The war between us wasn’t just a fight for control anymore. It was a battle for everything, our past, our son, our future.

And I was determined to come out on top.