The moment i stepped into the lobby of our building, I spotted her.
The girl from the hospital.
Kourtney Lim.
A face i'd seen before, in press events and film festival parties. She wasn't an A-lister—but she had money, connections, and just enough tabloid presence to think she was famous.
She saw me too. Her eyes narrowed over her oversized sunglasses.
Classic.
I adjusted my own black cat-eye shades and kept walking toward the elevator.
She sped up to cut in front of me, heels clicking like a challenge.
"Move," she hissed under her breath.
I didn't react. Years in this industry had taught me to hold my expression like armor.
But the employees noticed. The entire reception desk went silent, watching her shove past me like i was nobody.
They knew better than to speak.
Kourtney, of course, didn't.
Inside the elevator, she crossed her arms, angling her body away from me like a sulking teenager.
A few seconds later, she spun around.
"Are you following me?" she snapped.
I turned my head slowly, raising an eyebrow behind my sunglasses.
She scoffed. "This is my meeting. I have a collaboration proposal with Mr. Lim."
I studied her.
Fitted cream jumpsuit, designer belt, flawless makeup. She looked like she was headed to a magazine shoot, not a negotiation.
Typical.
She squinted at me like she was trying to figure out if I was a stylist or an intern.
"Look, can you… just take the next elevator?"
she said, voice dripping fake sweetness.
I didn't move.
When the doors opened, I stepped out first, letting my heels click purposefully on the marble.
"Charming as always," I murmured, pushing my office door open.
I heard her laugh behind me. High-pitched.
Ridiculous.
Inside, Mr. Lim was already waiting at the conference table, reviewing documents.
"Good morning, Miss Araneta," he greeted, all smiles and respect.
Before i could respond, Kourtney marched in without knocking, arms folded.
"You're Claudia?" she asked loudly, glaring at me.
"Kourtney," he snapped, voice dropping. "Mind your tone."
She scowled. "You didn't tell me she would be here."
I set my designer bag carefully on the table, unhurried, completely in control.
Mr. Lim exhaled, clearly embarrassed.
"Kourtney," Mr. Lim said, his voice strained, "this is Claudia Araneta. We're discussing our brand collaboration."
Kourtney froze.
"Collaboration?" she repeated, her voice cracking.
Her eyes flicked from her father to me. Realization settled like a bad taste in her mouth.
I let my sunglasses slide down just enough to meet her glare. Then I offered my most polished, press-conference-ready smile—pure Hollywood.
"Lovely to see you again," I drawled.
She actually recoiled, crossing her arms so hard her designer bangles clinked.
Mr. Lim sighed. "Claudia is our first choice to be the face of our exclusive line. She's the definition of luxury branding. That's why she's here."
Kourtney's jaw actually fell. "Dad. You didn't even tell me she was here."
I removed my sunglasses with precise, practiced calm, and took my seat at the table like the star i was.
He cleared his throat, trying to steer the meeting back on track.
"Claudia, we're very serious about this. Our distribution centers in China can barely keep up with your current line. We want you exclusively. Your image. Your signature scent. The face of our brand."
I crossed one leg over the other, cool and unhurried. "That depends. Are you prepared to double production? Limited editions? Luxe packaging?"
"Yes," he said instantly. "And we want to commission a special, China-exclusive scent with your name on it."
I clicked my pen once, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "My team can have first concepts ready before the month ends."
His relief was palpable. "Excellent. Your branding is... impeccable. It's why this works."
I offered a small nod. "I don't do anything halfway."
Meanwhile, Kourtney just stood there. Arms crossed. Watching me with open hostility.
She finally snorted under her breath.
"Whatever. Have fun selling your 'exclusive' scent," she snapped, whipping around on her stiletto heel and storming out.
Her designer bag swung behind her like a weapon.
When the door slammed, Mr. Lim's shoulders slumped.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "She assumed this meeting was for her. She's... wanted an endorsement deal for ages."
I shrugged, letting my expression slide into the careful PR-neutral I used for tabloid reporters.
"She's... spirited."
He barked a tired laugh. "That's one word for it."
—
After the meeting ended, I stayed behind, tapping through scent prototypes and campaign ideas on my tablet.
An exclusive scent with my name on it. And they had no idea i wouldn't even smell it myself.
I let my expression harden, catching my reflection in the black glass of the table. No one would ever know.
When Vanessa finally knocked and cracked the door open, she was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Miss Claudia," she half-whispered, beaming. "You have a visitor."
I didn't look up. "Who is it?"
"That doctor. From last time."
My fingers stilled on the screen.
I closed the tablet with deliberate calm, smoothing my hair, checking my lipstick in my reflection.
Then i stood, gathering my sunglasses again by force of habit.
When i stepped into the hallway, there he was.
Raphael.
He looked painfully awkward in his lab coat, scanning the floor, shifting his weight like he wished he was anywhere else.
Half my staff pretended not to gawk, but everyone was watching.
I didn't give them a show.
I walked straight over, slid my arm through his like it was the red carpet, and gave him my best camera-ready smile.
"Doc," I said lightly, all cool command.
Then I dragged him into my office before anyone could even think about pulling out their phones.
The door shut firmly behind us.
"I didn't realize you're Claudia Anastasia Araneta," Raphael said slowly, sounding both surprised and faintly awkward. "I mean—I knew you were an Araneta, but not the Claudia."
I adjusted my posture in my chair, arms folding smoothly across my chest. "Well. Now you know."
He let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly... I don't really follow movies or TV."
That drew a humorless smile from me. At least he wasn't pretending.
"Good," I said crisply. "I prefer it that way."
He frowned at me across the desk. "So? About your... proposal?"
I leaned forward. "One year. Then we end it cleanly. No drama."
He ran a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. "You're serious about this?"
My voice softened just a fraction. "Raphael, I can't have my parents pushing me into an arranged marriage, and i can't have my name in scandal headlines, either. This stays between us. Our families. No one else can know."
He watched me for a long moment. "You really have to keep it that quiet?"
I nodded sharply. "I'm me. One careless photo, one rumor, and it's a feeding frenzy. Toxic fans will scream betrayal if it's not an on-screen partner. PR will be a nightmare. We do this properly, discreetly, with boundaries."
He sighed. "One year. Then it's over?"
My eyes lit up with controlled relief. "Exactly."
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I basically live in the hospital."
I smiled tightly. "Perfect. You'll be too busy to cause trouble."
I stood, smoothing the front of my blouse. "We're meeting your parents tonight."
He stared. "Wait—tonight?"
I adjusted my sunglasses with practiced grace. "We have no time. My parents expect to meet my 'boyfriend' tomorrow. If you want me to keep my end of the deal, I need to be introduced properly first."
He groaned. "You really don't waste time."
I gave him my most camera-ready, no-nonsense smile. "No. I don't."
The drive to his house was quiet, the air humming with tension.
"Relax," I said finally, voice clipped but calm.
"It's just your parents. We need them to believe it."
"That's exactly why I'm stressed," he muttered.
When we walked into the living room, the reaction was instant.
His mom's eyes went huge. His dad's jaw actually dropped. Viviena's phone slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor.
For a second, no one said a word. They were too busy staring.
Because of course they knew who I was.
Claudia Araneta.
Top-billed actress. Every gossip show's favorite topic. The one with giant billboards on EDSA.
Raphael shifted uncomfortably beside me. He cleared his throat. "Uh. Mom. Dad.
Viviena. We… have something to tell you."
I stayed perfectly composed, hands clasped in front of me like i was at a press conference. I was used to this, people freezing up when they realized who was in the room.
I delivered it smoothly. Calm. Practiced.
"We're getting married."
His dad made a strangled sound like he was choking on air.
His mom gasped so loudly I almost winced.
Viviena blinked rapidly, clearly trying to process.
"Married?" his mom squeaked. "You're… you're actually—" She turned helplessly to Raphael.
His dad's brows drew together in confusion. "But—Claudia Araneta? That Claudia? Son, what the—"
I met his gaze evenly, ignoring the way their eyes kept darting over me like I might vanish if they blinked. "Your son is a good man. Responsible. He's... safe."
Raphael looked like he wanted to evaporate.
His mom's eyes filled with tears. "Oh my God. Grandkids!" She actually clapped.
His dad shook his head slowly, like he didn't believe it was real. "Is this... a joke?"
Raphael finally found his voice. "It's… not."
Viviena's eyes narrowed sharply, suspicion cutting through her awe. "So what, this is convenient?"
I didn't blink. "It's our business. And no one outside this room will ever know. Understood?"
The room fell silent.
They all exchanged glances.
His mom was the first to recover, practically glowing. "Claudia, you're so beautiful and accomplished. Raphael, don't you dare mess this up."
I gave Raphael a razor-sharp smile. "He won't or I'll kill him."
Viviena's face drained of color.
Raphael just let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.
But in the end? They agreed.
Because who was going to say no to me?
No one else could know. Not his colleagues.
Not my staff. Especially not the press.
If this got out, it wouldn't just be news. It would be an international scandal.
When we left, Raphael insisted on driving me back to my office. He parked quietly and walked me to the door.
That's when we saw her.
Kourtney.
Standing there. Phone already up.
Recording.
The second she spotted Raphael, her eyes lit up—and she ran straight for him.
"Hi, Doc!" she squealed, grabbing his arm.
"Say hi to my channel!"
Raphael sighed, clearly mortified.
Then she saw me.
Her whole face darkened.
"What are you doing with him?" she snapped.
I didn't flinch. PR smile. Cool. Perfect.
Untouchable.
"We're busy. Move."
She ignored me, clutching Raphael's arm tighter. "Doc! I'm going to marry you someday!"
Too bad for Kourtney.
Raphael was mine now.