Keifer POV — Morning
The meeting room was filled.
Voices. Numbers. Strategies.
Everyone was talking.
And I was there—
But not really.
"…Keifer?"
Someone called my name.
I didn't respond immediately.
My mind was somewhere else.
Last night.
Her.
Us.
My jaw tightened slightly as I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping once against the table.
I lost control.
The thought hit again.
Sharp.
Clear.
I shouldn't have done that.
Not there.
Not in that house.
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair.
"I shouldn't have taken that risk…" I muttered under my breath.
Because that's what it was.
A risk.
Not just for me—
For her.
And that didn't sit right.
Not even a little.
But then—
Jason.
My expression darkened instantly.
The way he stood next to her.
The way she laughed with him.
My hand clenched slightly.
"He really thinks…" I scoffed quietly, eyes lowering, "that when I'm not around… he can win her?"
A humorless smile formed.
"He's wrong."
Completely.
Utterly.
Wrong.
Because this—
This wasn't something he could just step into.
Not her.
Not us.
"I'll prove him wrong," I said under my breath, voice low, certain.
Just a few more days.
That's all I needed.
A few more days to settle everything.
To clear everything.
And then—
"I'll take back what's mine."
The words didn't feel like a claim.
They felt like truth.
But something else kept bothering me.
Something that didn't fit.
Dylan.
My brows furrowed.
"Why the hell did he kneel?"
That didn't make sense.
Not even close.
Dylan doesn't kneel.
Not for anyone.
Not like that.
Not in front of everyone.
And definitely not for—
Her.
My jaw tightened again.
"How is that even possible…?"
And Jay—
My thoughts shifted immediately.
"Being so close to the Mariano family…"
That part hit deeper.
Because that?
That was impossible.
Even we—
The Wastons—
weren't that close to them.
There was distance.
Respect.
But not that level of connection.
So how—
"How is she…?"
I leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, gaze dropping.
There's something I'm missing.
Something she's not telling me.
Something big.
Because nothing about last night was normal.
Not her.
Not Dylan.
Not the Marianos.
And definitely not the way she handled everything like—
Like she belonged there.
My eyes darkened slightly.
"You're hiding something…"
The realization settled in.
Slow.
Certain.
And I wasn't going to ignore it.
A faint, determined look crossed my face.
"I'll find out."
Not eventually.
Not maybe.
Very soon.
Because whatever this is—
It involves her.
And that's enough reason for me.
To uncover everything.
Jay POV — Mariano Mansion
My phone vibrated again.
I glanced at the screen—and picked it up immediately.
"Tell me you have something," I said, walking toward the window.
A low chuckle came from the other side.
"Oh, I do," his voice carried that familiar confidence. "In fact… I have a lot of things."
My brows lifted slightly.
"Okay, then tell me."
A pause.
Then—
"No way, Jean."
I blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"It's much more than something you discuss on a phone," he said calmly. "Come meet me."
I sighed lightly.
"Mr. Carlo—"
"I'm sending you the location," he cut in smoothly. "Don't be late."
The line clicked.
I stared at my phone for a second.
"…Byy, Jean," I mimicked under my breath, shaking my head.
A small smile slipped through.
"This old man is something."
Mr. Carlo.
The best detective in the UK.
Also—
My grandpa's childhood best friend.
Which made things complicated.
But also convenient.
Luckily—
When it came to work?
He was professional.
He didn't mix family with business.
He didn't "spill the tea."
And right now—
That's exactly what I needed.
---
I placed my phone down and moved toward the wardrobe.
Time to get ready.
Not as her.
Not as the "common girl."
As me.
---
I chose something that reflected exactly that balance.
A fitted ivory silk blouse—minimal, but sharp. The fabric caught light softly, expensive without trying too hard.
High-waisted black tailored trousers—structured, clean lines, giving control and authority.
A slim black belt with a gold accent.
Heels—pointed, black, sleek.
My hair? Open. Natural. Controlled.
Accessories stayed minimal—
A gold watch.
Delicate bracelet.
Nothing loud.
Everything intentional.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
This wasn't the girl from last night.
This was—
Mariano.
---
Dining Hall — Mariano Mansion
The smell hit me before I even reached the table.
Warm.
Rich.
Familiar.
"Ah! My princess has arrived!" Grandpa beamed the moment he saw me.
I smiled instantly.
"Grandpa… this smells amazing."
"Of course it does," he said proudly. "I made everything myself."
Grandma rolled her eyes lightly, adjusting her elegant shawl. "He has been in the kitchen since morning. Refused to let anyone help."
"Because no one cooks for my granddaughter better than me," he shot back.
I laughed softly, taking my seat.
"What did you make?"
He started listing proudly—
"Adobo, sinigang, kare-kare… and your favorite lumpia."
My eyes lit up.
"Grandpa…"
"I know," he grinned. "You missed it."
"I really did."
Grandma leaned forward slightly, studying me.
"And you look beautiful," she said, eyes scanning my outfit. "Finally dressing like yourself."
I smiled.
"Learning from the best."
She smirked.
"As you should."
---
I took a bite.
And immediately closed my eyes.
"Okay—this is illegal," I said. "Why is it so good?"
Grandpa laughed loudly.
"Because it's made with love."
"And skill," Grandma added dryly.
"Mostly love," he insisted.
We ate.
Talked.
For a moment—
It felt normal.
Peaceful.
Like nothing else existed.
---
After finishing, I stood up, grabbing my bag.
"I have to go out for a bit," I said.
Grandpa frowned immediately.
"So soon?"
"I'll be back," I reassured him.
"Take the driver," he added.
I shook my head.
"No need."
Grandma raised a brow.
"You're driving?"
A small smile formed.
"Yes."
Grandpa crossed his arms.
"You haven't driven here in years."
"I haven't needed to."
A pause.
Then—
"I'm not playing the 'common girl' today," I added lightly.
Grandma smiled knowingly.
"Good."
Grandpa sighed, but couldn't hide his pride.
"Be careful."
"I always am."
---
Basement — Mariano Mansion
The elevator doors opened—
And I stepped into a different world.
Cars lined perfectly.
Luxury.
Power.
Choice.
My eyes moved across them—
Then stopped.
There.
My favorite.
Black.
Low.
Sharp.
A machine built for speed and silence.
I walked toward it slowly, running my fingers lightly across the smooth surface.
"Missed you," I murmured.
The car unlocked instantly.
The door opened.
I slipped in.
The leather interior wrapped around me—dark, rich, perfect.
Engine started.
A deep, controlled growl.
Alive.
I smirked slightly.
Now this—
This felt right.
---
The Drive
London moved around me.
But I moved through it.
Effortlessly.
No hesitation.
No pretending.
Just me.
---
Terrace Café
The location led me to one of those places.
The kind that didn't advertise.
Didn't need to.
A terrace café overlooking the city—
But not crowded.
Not loud.
Exclusive.
Elegant.
White marble tables.
Soft gold accents.
Glass railings showing the skyline.
People here didn't look around.
Because they already belonged.
Generational wealth.
Old money.
Quiet power.
I stepped out of the car.
Valet instantly approached.
"Welcome, ma'am."
I handed over the keys without a word.
Walking inside—
Every detail was perfect.
Fresh flowers.
Muted tones.
Soft music.
Controlled luxury.
---
A staff member approached immediately.
"Welcome, Ms. Mariano," he said respectfully.
I didn't react.
Just nodded slightly.
"Mr. Carlo is waiting for you. Please come."
Of course he was.
I followed.
Past the main area.
Toward a more private section.
Hidden.
Exclusive.
They led me to a VIP corner—
Isolated.
Quiet.
And there—
He was waiting.
Mr. Carlo.
Jay POV — Terrace Café, Private Corner
Mr. Carlo didn't stand when I walked in.
He never did.
Just looked up from his cup, eyes sharp, already studying me like he had been waiting longer than necessary.
"Jean," he said calmly.
I took the seat across from him.
"Start talking."
He smiled slightly.
"Straight to business. Good."
"I didn't come here for compliments."
He leaned back, folding his hands.
"Alright then… let's talk about your Keifer Waston."
My expression didn't change.
But inside—
Everything stilled.
"His family," Mr. Carlo began, "is not just powerful… it's dangerous in ways people don't see."
"I know that."
"No," he shook his head slightly, "you've seen the surface. I'm telling you what's underneath."
I stayed silent.
Listening.
"Keifer is not just the heir," he continued. "He's the target."
My brows furrowed slightly.
"Explain."
"There's an inheritance," he said. "Massive. Control over assets, influence, internal authority within the Waston structure."
That made sense.
"But it's not just handed to him," he added. "He has to secure it."
"How?"
"By surviving it."
A pause.
That wasn't metaphorical.
I understood that immediately.
"When they couldn't reach him directly," Mr. Carlo continued, "they went after his brothers."
My breath slowed.
"They tried to use them," he said. "Leverage. Pressure. Weak points."
My fingers curled slightly.
"And him?"
"He handled it."
"How?"
A faint smile appeared on Mr. Carlo's face.
"Efficiently."
That was enough.
"He protected them," he added. "Managed the threats. Kept everything contained."
Silence settled between us.
Because that—
That wasn't easy.
Not even close.
"But that's not where it ends," Mr. Carlo said, leaning forward slightly now.
Something in his tone shifted.
More serious.
"They couldn't break him through family."
A pause.
"So they looked elsewhere."
I felt it before he said it.
A cold realization creeping in.
"They found you."
My heart stilled.
"They found… us?"
He nodded.
"Yes. Your connection with him."
My jaw tightened.
"How?"
"Not fully," he said. "Your real identity—your background—it's well hidden."
Of course it was.
"They only got surface-level information," he continued. "Philippines. No London. No Mariano connection."
Good.
"They see you as… a common girl."
I almost laughed.
Almost.
But I didn't.
"And then?" I asked quietly.
Mr. Carlo held my gaze.
"They used you."
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
"As a weapon against him."
My grip tightened under the table.
"How?"
His voice didn't change.
"If he didn't step away from the inheritance… they would kill you."
A small, humorless laugh escaped me.
"…That's their plan?"
"Yes."
I shook my head slightly.
Unbelievable.
But also—
Predictable.
"And him?" I asked.
"What did he do?"
Mr. Carlo didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
He watched me.
Carefully.
Then said—
"He pushed you away."
My breath caught.
"He acted like you didn't matter," Mr. Carlo continued. "Like he didn't care. Like you meant nothing."
Images flashed in my mind.
His distance.
His anger.
His contradictions.
My voice dropped.
"…Why?"
Mr. Carlo's expression softened slightly.
"Because if you didn't matter… you weren't a threat."
Silence.
Then—
"He chose to protect you."
Everything inside me stopped.
"What…?"
My voice barely came out.
"He made them believe you were irrelevant," he said. "So they wouldn't target you."
My eyes burned.
My chest tightened.
"He risked everything," Mr. Carlo added quietly. "His image. His connection with you. Everything."
I shook my head slowly.
"…No…"
But it made sense.
Too much sense.
"He—he did all that… for me?"
My voice broke slightly.
Mr. Carlo didn't look away.
"Yes."
A tear slipped down before I could stop it.
I looked down, blinking rapidly.
"He said it himself," Mr. Carlo continued, softer now. "You had to stay out of it."
My breath trembled.
"To stay safe."
"…He's an idiot," I whispered.
But it didn't sound angry.
It sounded—
hurt.
And something else.
Something deeper.
Mr. Carlo let out a small breath.
"As a man… I understand him."
I didn't reply.
"Protecting someone you love," he added, "sometimes means letting them hate you."
I closed my eyes briefly.
Because that—
That was exactly what he did.
"But poor child," Mr. Carlo continued, voice gentler now, almost like a grandfather, "he doesn't know…"
I looked up.
"You don't need his lies to protect you."
A small, shaky breath left me.
Of course I didn't.
I was a Mariano.
I was not helpless.
But he didn't know that.
And suddenly—
Everything shifted.
Everything I thought I understood—
Changed.
"When will this end?" I asked quietly.
Mr. Carlo leaned back slightly.
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"A few days."
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"He's close," he said. "Very close. He's almost secured everything."
The inheritance.
The control.
The power.
"All of it."
Silence fell again.
But this time—
It wasn't confusion.
It was clarity.
I wiped my tears quickly.
Composing myself again.
Because now—
I knew.
Why he pushed me away.
Why he acted the way he did.
Why he looked at me like—
He was holding back everything.
A faint, determined look settled in my eyes.
"Few days…" I repeated.
Mr. Carlo nodded.
"Yes."
I stood up slowly.
Because this—
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
Now I understood him.
But that didn't mean I'd let him handle everything alone.
Not anymore.