ã€ŠThis Crazy Rich Boyã€‹


 Chapter 1 - The Fresh Grad

    Claire has been standing in front of the huge TXCI building, a brown envelope containing her references and curriculum vitae in her hand, wondering if she should actually proceed with this application. She has been so deep in her own thought, not realizing the tall, well-dressed man standing behind her.

    A heavy hand falls on her shoulder. She turns and sees him.

    "Are you going in or not?" he says irritably. He takes off his Rayban sunglasses almost theatrically, as if he thinks he''s in a movie, and squints. The sheer beauty of his face takes her breath away; she dumbly stands there, looking up at him. "Well?"

    "Errr, I..." she stammers. "I''m looking for..."

    "If you''re not going in, please don''t stand in my way." He almost brushes her aside, and she''s so stunned it takes her a few moments to realize what he just did.

    "What the¡­who''s that rude guy? He acts as though he owned the universe, this whole building!"

    "You''re still standing there, Miss¡­"

    She turns around and there''s another man, an older one, who''s been trying to enter but couldn''t because Claire''s occupying all the space.

    Claire blushes in embarrassment; she moves to the side to allow the growing line of people behind her enter the revolving doors of TXCI building.

    "Should I still even try to give my application?" This would be her 23rd attempt to find a job. There''s not a lot of companies that are willing to take on such an inexperienced applicant. The fact that Claire is prettier than your average fresh grad even works against her¡ªpeople look at her cute face, and they somehow find it hard to take her seriously.

    During one of those interviews, the HR person asked her if instead she would consider taking on a sales agent job selling condos. She scoffed at the suggestion¡ªshe didn''t struggle through all those years of studying business management and marketing strategies only to sell cramped concrete residences to urbanites. But that was months ago. After almost two dozen interviews, each of them failing or never calling her back, getting a job as a sales agent is becoming less and less repugnant to her sensibilities. If that''s what it takes to get a job in this city, then so be it.

    The woman at the reception desk asks for her CV. She takes one look at Claire. She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. "I hope you''d last a day with him."

    "What do you mean?" Claire''s voice is hoarse, her heart is in her throat.

    "Mr. Tan is notorious for having a long string of executive secretaries who couldn''t even last more than three days."

    "How does he look?" Claire says for lack of anything to ask, as if it was relevant.

    "Oh, he''s good-looking, alright, if you''re looking for that quality in a boss," the woman says. "But that''s not the problem. If you''re lucky enough to get hired after the interview, you''ll soon personally find out why."

    "What do you mean? What kind of a monster is he?"

    The receptionist smiles. "The worst kind."

    "Seriously?" Claire says. "Tell me. Give me a hint. Or should I even proceed with application?"

    "Why not?" The receptionist scans her CV. "You seem competent. A good candidate. Maybe you''ll break the spell. Maybe not. But you''ll never find out if you don''t try."

    Just then they hear a commotion from inside Mr. Tan''s office. The receptionist rushes inside. Claire could hear muffled voices. She could hear a man''s angry voice, the thud of a heavy object hitting something wooden. Maybe the desk. A phone being slammed.

    Fear clutches Claire''s throat like a scared animal, yet she tries to strengthen her resolve. "You have nothing to fear if you haven''t done anything wrong," her mother used to say. And she''s right: she didn''t do anything wrong. She''s here to try to get a job. She''s not robbing anybody. She''s not stupid. She''s beautiful, competent, and ?ssertive. She was the champion debater back in college. She was the editor in chief of the college newspaper. She was a student leader. She has skills. And this man screaming behind these mahogany doors has no right to intimidate her.

    After all, she''s here for one simple reason: to see if her personality and skills fit the requirements of the job. And the job is supposedly simple: to attend to the needs of what she''s heard so far is a very demanding tycoon. If he doesn''t like her, then she''d go home, and try to look for possible employer No. 24.

    Claire stands up and smooths out her skirt. She sees her reflection on the glass wall beside her, and she sees there a confident, voluptuous woman: someone who has sent men to their knees. At 20, and an over-achiever at school, Claire has never had a boyfriend. She never felt the need for a relationship. For her, boys are stupid and silly and do not deserve a goddess like her.

    Muffled voices again. A man''s voice says something like, "So who''s the loser I''m interviewing this time?"

    Claire hears this and instantly all she sees is red: Who gave this man the right to belittle her even before he even met her? He hasn''t even spoken to her yet, but still he has the gall to judge that the person attempting to merely apply for this job is a "loser"?

    Claire is outraged. She imagines a lot of sharp words she''d say the moment she comes face to face with him. Slapping him would be totally unrealistic¡ªafter all, she still aspires to get the job. But she''ll let him know she''s not someone he can easily insult like that. Not Claire Monteverde, Champion Debater of Xavier University.

    When the receptionist finally sheepishly slips out of those heavy mahogany doors, Claire couldn''t wait to face him. She doesn''t really care if she gets this job or not.

    But when she opens those doors and finds the man waiting for her inside, her jaws drop. She couldn''t believe her eyes. "Oh my God, it is you!"

 Chapter 2 - The Encounter

    "Oh, it is you," Mr. Tan says, his face inscrutable. "The girl who had the balls to get in my way."

    Claire is so shocked for a moment, a million thoughts running through her head. Should she just back out and get out of this place? What the receptionist said seemed true¡ªthis man is a monster. Just look at his demeanor. It doesn''t matter that he looks flawlessly handsome¡ªprobably the product of a consistent beauty regimen or something that only the world''s top CEOs have access to¡ªit must be hell to work for this man, this person who perhaps regards other human beings as nothing but pawns he could use to suit his own ends.

    "I¡­I wasn''t standing in your way¡­S¡ªsir. I was just checking if I had the correct address."

    Mr. Tan gazes at him for a long moment, then he snickers and flicks back his shoulder-length hair. "Why are we standing here like idiots? Sit down. There''s a comfy chair just behind you. Use it."

    How repulsive, she thinks. Yet, she stifles her anger. For some reason, she wants to see this through and see what happens in this so-called interview. She might even have a chance to give him a piece of her mind later. She sighs, smoothens her skirt, and sits down.

    He stares at her for a moment, then takes the seat opposite her.

    "So," he begins, holding before him her printed-out CV. "You''re applying for a job."

    Yes, Captain Obvious, she thinks. Why on earth would a normal human being dare enter the maw of hell, as the receptionist would have put it, except out of desperation to get a job, any job. "Yes, Sir." She steels her resolve and adopts her old champion debater persona. "As you may glean from my curriculum vitae, I am a top graduate of Xavier University. Summa ?um laude. I have a long list of honors and awards that I would be glad to explain in detail to you just to prove my credentials."

    "Hmmm." Mr. Tan''s eyes squint as he scans the document. "It says here you''re an awesome specimen of humanity, Miss Monteverde." He gazes directly at her. "I just don''t understand why a person of your credentials would go so low as to apply for a job that''s obviously beneath all your skills, stature, and talent."

    Claire doesn''t know what to feel with that statement¡ªshould she feel flattered that he seems to recognize her worth? Or is this some nasty game and he''s just being sarcastic? Should she tell him the truth? What did the receptionist tell her earlier? "Mr. Tan''s a monster." She realizes now that such monstrosity has many complex layers.

    "I need a job," she finally says. "To tell you the absolute truth, you''re the twenty-third person who interviewed me. There was always something wrong with the first twenty-two."

    "You mean, despite all the wonderful stuff written here in your curriculum vitae, they won''t hire you?"

    She makes a little nod of the head. That''s right, Claire. Play the damsel in distress card now. See where it takes you. "I don''t understand either. I''m willing to demonstrate to you what I''m capable of."

    Mr. Tan pinches the bridge of his nose, as though trying to offset some oncoming headache. "Let me be honest with you, Miss Monteverde. Nobody can stand me. I''ve had countless people work for me, and they rarely last a week. What you''re seeing now is my best possible side¡ªthis is actually me being in a good mood. And proof is that you''re sitting there, not actually crying." He stops. He just sits there staring at her, his eyes taking all of her from head to foot.

    Claire clears her throat and fixes how she''s seated. She crosses and uncrosses her legs. She gazes in the general direction of the nearby glass walls, where the breathtaking view shows the outlines of the city. She hopes that Mr. Tan follows her gaze and realizes he must come back to earth, to this moment, and make a decision favorable to her. When after a few minutes she turns back to him, her heart slightly jumps¡ªhe''s still gazing at her, as though reading her intently. It would have been fine if not for those eyes¡ªthose penetrating eyes that seem to be taking her clothes off, as though he''s seeing through her layers of clothing. Strangely, the thought of him imagining her n?k?d sends a shiver of delight through her whole being. She shouldn''t be like this. She should try to think and act like a m?tur?, professional person.

    She returns his gaze. "Well," she begins. "What do you want, Mr. Tan? Won''t you ask me questions HR officers usually throw at prospective applicants? Won''t you ask me about my strengths and weaknesses, how do I see myself five years from now, or if you could ask my best friend, what might be the bad things they might say about me? Or would you instead like to demonstrate how bad you are as a boss, in order to find out if I can stand it?"

    Mr. Tan laughs dryly. "There''s no need for that. And I''m curious, too, so it must be your lucky day. You''ll soon find out what kind of a person I am. Are the rumors true? Was my receptionist¡ªyes, I know she''s been blabbing about me, which she doesn''t realize is the reason why I haven''t fired her¡ªtelling the truth? Or are those all lies, which I spread just for shits and giggles?" He looks around and sighs. "Yes, Miss Monteverde, as an answer to your unspoken question, I''m hiring you. On probation. Pending your actual discovery of whether you can actually stomach the darkest of my moods."

    "Really, sir? Oh, my¡­"

    "But before I welcome you to hell," he says, cutting her off. "I have a proposal I believe you simply cannot refuse."

    "And what would that be, sir?"

    When he explained the proposal, in all its sordid detail, Claire Monteverde almost stood up, finding it hard to believe what she''s hearing.

 Chapter 3 - The Proposal

    "My proposal is simple," Mr. Tan says, pausing for effect. "Work for me for a month, for free. Like what you say, a ''demonstration'' of your skills and competency. If you can last a month and not walk out, I will pay you a year''s salary."

    "What? A year''s salary for only a month''s work?"

    "Yes."

    Claire makes quick mental calculations in her head and arrives at a jaws-dropping conclusion: this deal is too good to be true. So what''s the catch?

    "Are you being serious, sir?" She tries to hide the quake in her voice.

    "Do I look like I''m one who has time for frivolity?"

    "But that''s too good to be true. You''re either too kind or too monstro¡­Err, I mean, I''m finding it hard to wrap my mind around it."

    Mr. Tan fake-coughs. "I also don''t have the time to wait for you to wrap your mind around it. Take it or leave it. I''ll give you two seconds."

    "What? Just tw¡ª"

    "One¡­"

    "Wait, okay, wait, let me breathe a sec." Claire looks around and grabs the sofa''s armrest. She''s not kidding; her head seems to be spinning. This is happening too fast for her taste. "Wait, let me¡­"

    "One point five seconds¡­."

    She stares at him. What''s this man''s problem? Doesn''t he have an ultra-important board meeting to attend somewhere? Isn''t he supposed to sign a boatload of important documents? Shouldn''t he be at some control room at the top of this tower making critical decisions for the future of his company, decisions that, given the magnitude of his business holdings, could affect the economies of at least a dozen countries? Yet, here he is, taking the time to "interview" a lowly fresh graduate for what is really just a personal ?ssistant''s job. He even has the liver to tease her with an "offer you can''t refuse," as he put it. Does he think he can tease the bejesus out of innocent girls like her, with prospects of money and a comfortable life a year from now? How dare him! How dare he give her false hope!

    This man deserves only one thing: Call his bluff. Claire Monteverde isn''t someone to be trifled with.

    "Of course, I''ll say yes to the proposal, sir," she says, putting on the act of being some cheerful nincompoop who''s supposedly clueless about the game the man''s playing. "I''d be happy to work for you, free, for a month in exchange for the prospect of getting a year''s pay." She smiles her widest smile.

    Then she waits, as Mr. Tan stands there, gazing at her with that bemused look on his face. Would he cave in? Would he say, "I got you! Was just kidding, you stupid girl! Who in his right mind would actually give you that kind of offer? Ha ha ha ha!"

    But to his amazement, he says, so calmly, "Fine. I''ll have Mrs. Gomez give you the contract to sign. You report directly to me."

    "That''s it?" Claire is still suspicious; she almost leaps out of the chair. "I am really working for you for a month?"

    Mr. Tan pinches the bridge of his nose again. "Oh, this is so annoying. The last thing I need right now is someone who requires me to repeat my words." He stands up and looks sternly at her. "Look, Miss Monteverde, I don''t have time to play games. See, I didn''t serve you any bullshit. I didn''t give you the usual work-around with HR. You came to my office, and something about you made me curious enough to actually try you. I don''t dilly-dally. I don''t play around. I go straight to the point. And my point is simple: I am hiring you to be my girl Friday. My personal ?ssistant. The person who gets shit done, and done flawlessly and quickly. I made you an offer, and you said you accept. So what''s the problem? The signing of the contract is a mere formality. People like myself bank on our word. My word is my bond, and you can expect me to fulfill my end of the bargain. Understand?"

    "Uhh, y-yes, sir¡­"

    "Perfect!" Mr. Tan stands up and buzzes the receptionist, who materializes by the door, her face white as sheet.

    "You need me, sir?"

    "Oh, there you are," he says, his cheerfulness almost seemingly bordering on crazy. "I want you to produce the Red Contract."

    The receptionist''s eyes widen. "The Red Contract, sir? Are you serious?"

    Mr. Tan throws his arms in the air. "What''s wrong with you people? Why is everyone asking me to repeat everything? I say the Red Contract, I mean the Red Contract!"

    "Yes, sir! Apologies, sir. I''ll be back in a sec!" Then as quickly as she appeared, the receptionist slips out of the door, leaving Claire with her mouth hanging open.

    Everything''s happening bizarrely and so quickly that Claire feels like she''s having some out-of-body experience, watching herself sitting awkwardly in that otherwise comfy chair, not knowing what to do.

    "So Miss Monteverde," he begins. "Mrs. Gomez will return here in a few minutes to give you the papers to sign. And right here, right now, today, I mean, you start working for me, understand?"

    "I, uhh, I¡­understand."

    "Perfect! Because I already have an urgent task to give you today. It should be easy. Something you''ve probably done all your life. Wait, are you still a v?r??n?"

    "What?"

    "Are you still a v?r??n?"

    "I, uhhh¡­I, uhhh¡­" Claire doesn''t know what to tell him. Does getting accidentally groped on the train count? Does the kiss that boy Jackson stole from her in sixth grade count? Just a month ago, her neighbor''s dog humped her leg¡ªdoes that count? "I¡­I am a v?r??n, sir." Her voice almost inaudible.

    A subtle shift of emotion happens on Mr. Tan''s face. He flicks back his shoulder-length hair. "Perfect. Because I just have the task for you."

    Then even before she could react, he is already unbuttoning his coat and shirt and letting his pants drop. He is about to remove his und?rw??r when he stops mid-action¡ªbecause she''s screaming her lungs out.

 Chapter 4 - The First Task

    "What in hell are you screaming about?" Mr. Tan''s face is beet red¡ªand so is Claire, who''s hiding behind the chair, as though shielding her eyes from some vicious attack. "Are you crazy?"

    "I''m not crazy! You were taking your clothes off!" Claire is hyperventilating, averting her eyes, trying not to see her semi-naked boss.

    "Yes, of course! But I am doing this professionally," he says, matter-of-factly. "Because from now on this is part of your job." He picks up his clothes and tosses everything to her. "Bring these over to Leed''s. They''ll take care of it."

    "These are soiled clothes?"

    "Well, yes, soiled, but not in the same sense of the word you peasants use the word ''soiled''." Mr. Tan presses a bu??on on his desk, and an entire panel of the office''s wall slides open, revealing a walk-in wardrobe. "If you must know, I came from a very long and boring meeting. They should have called it Bored Meeting, and not Board Meeting, because it was full of insufferable bores."

    Claire opens his eyes a peep and lets out a squeak. "You''re still n?k?d, sir!"

    "Am I?" Mr. Tan theatrically looks at his body reflected on the glass wall, seemingly admiring his buffed physique. "As far as I know it, I''m still wearing undies. So technically, I''m not n?k?d, Miss Monteverde. So stop being such a v?r??n and do your job."

    "But sir¡ª"

    Mr. Tan enters the walk-in wardrobe and, out of view, falls silent for a moment. Then he says, "Claire?"

    "Yes, sir?" Claire stands up. A white fabric thing flies out of the wardrobe''s entrance and lands right on Claire''s feet. She stares at it. Her eyes widen when she realizes it''s her boss''s boxers, the very same pair he was just wearing a moment ago.

    Does this mean he''s totally n?k?d right now, inside that room?

    "Please include that, will you," she hears his voice say. "And when you return, bring me a coffee."

    Claire squirms as she stands there, unable to bring herself to pick up her boss''s und?rw??r. She looks around for anything to pick it up with¡ªa stick, a pair of tongs, anything she can use to pick it up without having to use her actual hands! She hears him humming some tune while inside the wardrobe, some familiar tune she couldn''t yet name. So this is the monster. This is how he does it, terrorizing his secretaries and ?ssistants. Doesn''t this count as s?xu?? harassment? If she sues him, would she win? Mr. Tan''s probably so powerful, with half the city in his pocket or something, that whatever she files against him would go nowhere. After all, what does she have apart from emotional turmoil and a really, really awkward situation?

    She stares at the boxers. It has that expensive-looking sheen, as if it''s made of silk. If this is actual silk, and Mr. Tan farts through it, then isn''t that so clich¨¦, the rich farting through silk and all that?

    Claire had to snicker at the thought, if only at her own expense.

    So what does she do? Where is a pair of tongs when you need one?

    She gazes over at his desk. There''s the usual stuff you''d find on any office desk. A stack of documents awaiting his signature. A ??ptop. A couple of pens¡­ Wait! That''s it! A pen could do for now! She tiptoes over his desk, plucks the first pen she sees, then uses it as a stick of sort to pick up Mr. Tan''s immaculately white boxer shorts. She holds it against the faint light streaming through the glass walls. She catches a whiff of his manly scent. Some expensive cologne she, of course, could not name. For a moment, even if she tries not to, she notices the creases on the fabric where his crotch would have been. She doesn''t want to think of his manhood, but her brain eagerly runs to that area and occupies it: his manhood was just here, enclosed by this sheer fabric. Could she catch a whiff?

    Then as she''s holding it up, she notices something: a black line, like a tear drop, slowly streaming down the length of the boxer shorts'' fabric. Her eyes follow its source, then to her shock, she realizes the black line is the pen''s ink! It''s leaking ink! It''s leaking ink and now the boxer''s ruined! Her boss''s expensive looking silk boxers! Oh, my God!

    "Is there a problem here?" Mr. Tan''s voice could have given her a heart attack.

    He presses a bu??on and the walk-in wardrobe behind him slides shut. "Why are you staring so intently at my boxers?"

    "Oh!" In one quick motion, she swoops up the rest of Mr. Tan''s soiled clothes, tucking the ruined boxers within the pile. "I was just looking at the, uhh, designer label. Uhh, I''m checking the size. It''s quite large."

    Mr. Tan''s brow knits in confusion. "What is quite large?"

    "Uhh, the crotch area¡­.I mean! Nothing! I was just¡­Nothing! Did you say I''m supposed to bring this over to Leed''s?

    He nods, gazing at her with that bemused look on his face. "Yeah."

    "Then I should get going." She heads to the door, steps out. But a second later, her head reappears. "Sir," she says. "Where is Leed''s again?"

    Mr. Tan pinches the bridge of his nose. "I am dying here, Miss Monteverde, and you are the cause of it. Leed''s is my laundry guy. Four blocks away, at the corner of Lacson and 104th."

    "Okay!" she chirps, then disappears.

    But a second later, she reappears again. "Sir?"

    "What is it this time?"

    "Shouldn''t your chauffeur bring me over there so that I''d get there quickly?"

    "No, I need him for something else. You can walk. It''s just four blocks. You look like you could use some exercise. And bring me a coffee, will you?"

    It''s just four blocks away, she thinks. Should be easy. But when she walks out of the TXCI building right after quickly signing the Red Contract Mrs. Gomez almost shoved to her face (she didn''t even read it--what if she just signed over her kidney!), the noon sun pounding hard upon her head, she realizes this must be some practical joke. One block in this city stretches so far out on the horizon. It must be a mile or so per block. And she''s walking all the way to God-knows-where. She should take a cab, but she needs to take it easy on the spending. Remember, he''s not paying her for a month. And if she really messes it up, she might not get paid at all at the end of this month. So Claire starts walking, carrying the plastic bag of her boss''s clothes, dodging the incoming rush of people and traffic, thinking hard about the choices she has made in her life, wondering if there is, indeed, a light at the end of this tunnel.

 Chapter 5 - The Stain

    The guy at Leed''s, some old Chinese man with a highly improbable goatee, would not let her in. She had to produce Mr. Tan''s name card (which simply states, "Gabriel Tan" and his phone number) in order to convince him she''s the one tasked to fulfill this errand. When the man saw the card, he was immediately transformed from being a snooty proprietor to submissive, even obsequious, man-servant. "Come in, madam," he ushered her in, bowing so low he could have kissed her shoes. "Please come in. Sincere apologies for the utter lack of grace by yours truly. Let me ?ssure you, and by extension Mr. Tan himself, that I am as honored, as always, to serve him."

    Claire looks around, awkwardly stepping into the threshold of the place. You wouldn''t know what kind of business Leed''s is engaged in. It looks like a haberdashery, probably built back in those days when people say the word "haberdashery" in ordinary conversations. What the hell am I dealing with, she thinks.

    "I am Mr. Wong, by the way." The man extends his hand.

    Claire shakes it tentatively. She''s surprised by the exceptional smoothness of the man''s hand. The handshake felt like she was touching porcelain. "Claire. Claire Monteverde," she says, then she realizes if she''s the girl Friday of Mr. Tan, then she must represent Mr. Tan''s stature. "Miss Claire Monteverde, Mr. Tan''s second," she adds. Touch¨¦!

    "Pleased to meet you, Miss Monteverde," Mr. Wong smiles. "Welcome to Leed''s. I used to run it with my twin brother, we were known in the area as the Wong Brothers, so we used to call this establishment, ''Two Wongs can make it White.'' But sadly, he died." Mr. Wong actually whimpered. "He was killed by an ill-tempered, mutated sea bass we encountered off the coast of Batangas Island."

    "Sorry to hear that."

    "Don''t have to be sorry at all. It was a long time ago." Mr. Wong smiles. "Is that Mr. Tan''s clothes?"

    He accepts the bag containing Mr. Tan''s "soiled" clothes (but "soiled" not in the usual peasant sense, as Mr. Tan so eloquently put it). Claire is sweaty and blushing from the hot noon sun, and the icy blast of the aircon would have been a totally welcome treat, except it is too icy that Claire felt little icicles forming in her actual lungs. So she has to stand by the corner, far from the aircon''s blast, as the Leed''s guy carefully examines every item of clothing from the bag.

    Mr. Wong carefully pries the bag open, as if he''s expecting something to spring out of it. He handles Mr. Tan''s Armani suit with extreme care, as well as the trousers. Every piece of clothing is treated with utmost respect, Mr. Wong holding each item and examining it against the faint warm light of the room, which would have confused Claire even more if she knew Mr. Tan sends his clothing twice a day to Leed''s, so there''s no reason for Mr. Wong to act as if the business of dry cleaning Mr. Tan''s stuff is God''s rare gift to him.

    Then when he pulls out the white, silken boxer shorts, Mr. Wong''s face undergoes a paroxysm of different emotions: confusion, shock, denial, grief. "Oh. My. God."

    Seeing it all from her corner, Claire is clutched by sudden fear: Mr. Wong''s utter shock and dismay means Claire did not imagine it at all¡ªthat the destruction of Mr. Tan''s beloved silken boxers has been total and absolute reality.

    "What have you done?" It''s hard to describe Mr. Wong''s face, because his mouth, his eyes, his very words get distorted from the effort of processing the tsunami of emotion he is currently undergoing. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, MISS MONTEVERDE?"

    "I¡­I, uhhh¡­I did not do anything!" If a moment ago Claire was on her high horse, now she''s back to her lowly, besieged self, trying to explain away the horrendous spectacle before them.

    "What did you do to Mr. Gabriel Tan''s Holy of Holies? His beloved underthing, this silken work of art whose provenance is blurred by time and history?"

    "I¡­uhhh¡­"

    "Why is this all drenched in blood, destroyed, never to be used again, never to be able to embrace the hallowed crotch of its owner?"

    Claire is speechless for a while, then for some reason, upon hearing the phrase "embrace the hallowed crotch of its owner," she bursts out laughing. She laughs so hard Mr. Wong is just standing there, completely taken aback. And yet, Claire Monteverde laughs and laughs, finding levity in the very moment that the only other person in the room considers the end of the whole world: the ruination of Mr. Gabriel Tan''s beloved silken boxer shorts.

    "Are you even serious?" Claire manages to say in between giggling fits. "That''s a pair of boxers, for pete''s sakes! It''s not a holy freaking relic!"

    "How dare you say that about Mr. Tan''s boxers! Surely, you are not privy to his most cherished feelings!"

    And are you? Claire wants to ask. But through the misty cloud of her insane laughter, through the sheer ridiculousness of her situation, Claire wonders if she has accidentally slipped into some asylum, and everyone here is either incredibly brilliant or just flat-out insane.

    "That''s a pair of boxers! Big deal! I''m sure Mr. Tan has a gazillion other boxer shorts in his wardrobe mansion."

    Mr. Wong shakes his head, as if he''s witnessing the saddest, most hopeless spectacle he has ever witnessed in his life. "You have no idea, Miss Monteverde. This is NOT just a pair of boxer shorts. This is a piece of history. This came from a very long line of owners. And you bringing it here with the full knowledge of your horrible crime means your arrogance is without parallel. Worse, you''re bringing bad feng shui upon Leed''s! You''re bringing bad feng shui upon Mr. Tan''s mega-business!"

    "Oh my God, are you even serious?" Claire is not laughing now. "Are you serious? That und?rw??r is THAT important?"

    "Do I look like a guy who isn''t serous? Is the other critical half of ''Two Wongs can make it White'' never to be taken seriously? Ask yourself, Miss Monteverde. Ask yourself!"

    I am asking myself, Claire wants to scream at him. But stifling another tsunami of uncontrollable laughter, Claire makes a deep breath. She tries to regain her composure by focusing on any other mundane thing in the room: the banal furniture, the sickly, lone fake palm tree in the other corner, the way the word ''Leed''s'' is carved on the wooden desk. Anything to focus her attention on that would help her not laugh. "Okay," she finally says. "But can''t you clean that? Isn''t it your job, after all?"

    Mr. Wong stares at her as if she just said the most ridiculous question. "Can you un-squeeze a tube of toothpaste? Can you unexplode a nuclear bomb?"

    "It''s just an ink stain, for pete''s sake, Mr. Wong! It''s your job to remove that stain! If you can''t, then why would Mr. Tan send me to you?"

    Mr. Wong opens his mouth to rebut, but a thought strikes him: she''s right. Mr. Tan has always trusted his business over the years because he provides the most excellent service. If he cannot fix this problem with a pair of boxers, then why does Leed''s even exist?

    He sighs and takes a long hard look at the ink-stained silken boxers in his hands. "Maybe I can try to perform a miracle."

    "Attaboy, Mr. Wong," Claire says, even if deep inside, in her heart of hearts, she seriously doubts anything can still be done with it. "You go now and do your stuff while I circle around the block, have some lunch, and I''ll be back here before you even know it."

    "Return in three hours," Mr. Wong says.

    "That''s what I said," Claire says, exasperated that she will have to wait that long.

    Her stomach grumbling for not having eaten anything at this hour, Claire steps out of Leed''s feeling light-headed. Now where does she eat? No, rephrase that: where can she find the cheapest place to have lunch? Anything that resembles grub will do. But before her is the concrete jungle, a place that''s still completely unfamiliar to her. But little does she realize finding a place to eat would be the least of her problems¡ªthat today would be marked in her personal story as one of the worst days of her life.

 Chapter 6 - The Coffee

    For Claire, today is really quite a long day. After waiting for about three hours for Mr. Wong to do Mr. Tan''s laundry, the proprietor of Leed''s simply informed her to please return another day as the business of performing a miracle on the ruined boxers turned out to be much more challenging than first thought. This after she had to spend the hours killing time at a very stressful place: the hole-in-the-wall where she had lunch was the setting of some domestic drama, as a woman walked in and began screaming at a man and another woman dining there. It turned out, the screaming woman was the legitimate wife, and the man was having an affair with the other woman he was having his lunch with. It was so utterly complicated, and deeply nerve-wracking, as everyone in the place had to listen to the trio air their dirty laundry¡ªthat reminded her of Mr. Wong''s business¡ªin public. What has the world gone to now?

    Bad luck seems to be hounding her. Even this seeming good luck of working for the wealthiest, if not weirdest, tycoon in the country could turn bad at any moment. Now as she walks back¡ªwalks because she couldn''t afford to take a cab anymore, now that she would have to work for a month without pay¡ªsomething''s nagging her. She seems to remember Mr. Tan wanting something from her when she comes back. When she walks past a Starbucks, the memory hits her: Mr. Tan specifically asked to bring him a coffee.

    As she slips inside the Starbucks, the fragrant, heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee makes her feel good. As far as coffee is concerned, Claire''s preferences have stayed basic and simple: just black, with a dash of sugar. She never liked milk or cream diluting her coffee, believing that they lessened the effects of the brew on her mental acuity. She survived the university and even excelled in her studies with always a mug of hot, freshly brewed coffee¡ªfor some reason, whether it is true or actually an illusion, she understood things a lot better and easier with the help of this powerful brew.

    So now as she stands in line, looking at the list of available concoctions, she''s shocked to realize two things: she doesn''t know what coffee Mr. Tan likes, and she failed to ask Mrs. Gomez for some coffee money. Surely, they don''t expect her to buy this thing out of her own purse, do they? She could walk back to the office and ask the woman for some money, but that would mean walking the few blocks and wasting more time. She rifles through her own purse, carefully counts whatever loose change she still has, and decides that for the sake of time and efficiency, she''d pay for this cup for now.

    "Hello, there. What would you like to order, ma''am?"

    "Give me a¡­ Well, just give me one tall black coffee."

    "Would you like cream with it, or anything else?"

    "No, thank you. Just black." Because once you go black¡­

    The barista smiles. "Alrighty. One tall black for Miss¡­"

    "Claire. Just Claire."

    "¡­for Miss Clair!"

    Back at the office, Mrs. Gomez almost jumps upon seeing her. "Oh, my God! Where have you been? Mr. Tan has been itching for his coffee like ten hours ago!"

    "What do you mean? He has all the resources in the world. Why couldn''t he send someone else for his coffee?"

    Mrs. Gomez couldn''t hide her irritation. "Are you being serious right now? Do you even have an idea what kind of an obsessive freak our boss is? When he asks for coffee from you, the world would end but he still wouldn''t accept coffee from anyone else."

    Claire says nothing. She looks at the coffee in her hand. On the side of the paper cup is written, "Just Claire."

    "And what''s that?" Mrs. Gomez points at the coffee in her hand as though it committed a crime.

    "Tall black coffee," Claire says matter-of-factly. "Isn''t it the point of all this?"

    Mrs. Gomez turns white as sheet. "Oh, my God. He''s going to kill us."

    "What do you mean?"

    But before Mrs. Gomez could speak, her desk buzzes and Mr. Tan''s tinny voice fills the reception area¡ªhis impatience is betrayed by the way he enunciates all the wrong syllables in the phrase "Where is that stupid girl?"

    "We''re just about to enter, sir," Mrs. Gomez mutters, her voice shaking.

    "You better have my coffee," he says.

    "Y-yes, sir." Mrs. Gomez gives Claire a meaningful glance.

    Did he really just say "Stupid girl?" Was he referring to me? Claire''s outrage seethes in her ?h?st. How dare he? How dare he? She could really smack this man in the face with the way he treats women. He doesn''t have the right to say these things!

    Mrs. Gomez solemnly opens the heavy doors and ushers Claire in. They find Mr. Tan facing the glass wall overlooking the city. He''s wearing a different suit now¡ªhe looks every inch a sartorial titan in that all-white ensemble. If you look at him and not actually know him, you''d think he''s an angel, a white knight sent by the heavens to save damsels in distress.

    "Here''s the girl, sir," Mrs. Gomez mutters before she quickly slips out and closes the door.

    "The girl"¡ªthe phrase reverberates in Claire''s head. She doesn''t even have a name. They don''t even call her properly like a person here. "The girl."

    "Four hours," Mr. Tan says, still gazing toward the city. "Four stupid hours for one stupid coffee."

    Claire dumbly looks at the coffee she''s holding with her two hands now. "But sir¡­You¡­You could have sent someone else. You know I was busy at Leed''s¡ª"

    "How dare you¡ª" Mr. Tan turns to her, glaring¡ª"question my motives, my decisions? If I send you for coffee, you do what I say!"

    "Y-yes, sir, but¡­but that business at Leed''s was¡­"

    "Four hours? It took you four hours to return here? At the very least you could have called!" Mr. Tan screams, to which she screams back, "But I don''t have a phone!"

    "What?"

    "I don''t have a phone! I don''t have cab fare! I walked those four blocks!"

    Mr. Tan says nothing; he just stares at her dumbly, as if he''s just discovered a new species of insect.

    "So please," Claire says, her outrage and the opposing pressure to appear submissive, to submit to this man''s will no matter how stupid it all seems are fighting for space in her heart, "please forgive me. It''s just my first day today. Beginner''s mistake." She steps gingerly towards him, her hands bearing the coffee outstretched, like she''s making an offering to some angry god. "Please, here''s your coffee, sir."

    "What coffee is that?"

    "Black, sir."

    Mr. Gabriel Tan grunts. He takes the coffee from her hand, glares at her¡ªand savagely throws it at the glass wall. The dark liquid explodes and stains all the surrounding furniture, even drenching Mr. Tan''s own immaculate white suit. But Mr. Tan''s scowl remains the same; for a few minutes, he stares transfixed at the black-brown supernova of coffee stains on the wall, on the carpet, even on the otherwise flawless white ceiling.

    Claire''s jaws drop on the floor¡ªshe''s stunned. What kind of a person is this? Going full ballistic over the small stupid matter of coffee? Is this the person who''s running TXCI Industries? Is this the top CEO that Forbes magazine keeps featuring on its cover? This isn''t a person. This is a monster.

    "Miss Monteverde," Mr. Tan says coldly. "As my personal ?ssistant, you, of all people, should know the coffee I like."

    Still too stunned and angry at the same time, Claire mutters, "What coffee do you like, s-sir?"

    What Mr. Tan says next doesn''t make sense at first; he actually has to buzz Mrs. Gomez in to explain to her. And even as she''s back on the street, she''s still reading the note Mrs. Gomez slipped in her hand. The note says¡­

 Chapter 7 - The Grande, Quad, Nonfat, One-Pump, No-Whip Mocha

    As Claire stomps back towards Starbucks, she could not believe anyone would really be so anal as to drink only coffee according to the specifications, "grande, quad, nonfat, one-pump, no-whip mocha." How crazy is that? It''s just coffee. Personally, she''d like her coffee without all these distractions, these dilutions. But what does she know? Mr. Tan obviously is set in his ways.

    "Oh, Miss Just Black!" the barista cheerfully greets her. He''s of Claire''s age as well, and seems to enjoy his job. "You''re back so soon!"

    "I, uhh, yeah," she mutters, peering at the little note in her hand. "I, uhh, need coffee with these specifications. Can you make it?"

    The barista''s brow knits as he reads the note, but his eyes soon widen in recognition. "Hey, are you working for Gabriel Tan?"

    "How did you know?"

    "This is his favorite! He won''t take any other coffee except this one."

    So that''s why he was so furious, Claire thinks. She must have touched a raw nerve by not following his directions. But he never gave any in the first place! "So can you brew that?"

    "Absolutely! Give me just a sec!" The barista smiles. "So this is for ''Just Claire''?"

    Claire laughs. "Yeah, just Claire."

    Claire waits and quietly watches the barista do his thing. The name plate on his ?h?st says his name is Brad, and he''d be happy to create magic for you. Oh, these service mantras, they''re all gimmickry. But maybe it works, because if not, then nobody would be doing it anymore. For some reason, Brad keeps on glancing at her, as though checking if she''s still there. She smiles occasionally, which he answers with his own smile. He''s kinda cute, Claire thinks, than banishes the thought. What is it with you Claire? Desiring random strangers now?

    "We''re no strangers anymore, are we?" Brad says as he hands her the coffee, as if he has just read her mind.

    "Well, uhh, sure."

    "Say, if you need anything, just call me up. I mean, the store. Call Starbucks. We''d be happy to make you magic."

    She''s gotta laugh at that one. "Sure."

    As she steps out into the sun, she turns back and sees him still looking at her, before another lady customer hijacked his attention.

    It''s thirty minutes of trooping under the sun back to the office. She grinds her teeth as she tries to ignore her aching feet. Damn this new boss, that Mrs. Gomez! They couldn''t even give her cab fare! Says it''s part of the deal or something. She wonders, quite bitterly, if she could still make it the next day. Her mental calculations let her arrive at a tricky conclusion: the Room Mate situation notwithstanding, she''s looking at a few weeks of utter despair.

    When the elevator dings open, Mrs. Gomez doesn''t even acknowledge her presence. There''s also something weird about her: she''s no longer high-strung, as if she''d just stepped out of a spa. Mrs. Gomez''s face is so relaxed, so calm, so full of inner peace.

    "He''s out of the office," Mrs. Gomez says, matter-of-factly.

    "What?" Claire could not believe it. All that drama, all that hard work, that walking in the hot sun¡ªall that for nothing? "What about his coffee? What about his grande quad whipping boy fatty pump mochachinosoy coffee latte?"

    Mrs. Gomez stares at the coffee Claire holds aloft. She shrugs.

    "What do I do with this?"

    "I don''t know," Mrs. Gomez says. "Drink it. Should calm you down."

    You people are the ones who should calm down, Claire thinks. For a moment, she thinks of doing what Mr. Tan did an hour ago: Smash this grande against the immaculate white wall. Or something.

    But she''s not Gabriel Tan. She''s just a lowly, miserable Claire Monteverde, who must go home tonight to an apartment she shares with three other girls who do not know how to respect boundaries.

    And that''s what she does: Claire walks home. It''s just five blocks away, anyway. What''s another round of walkathon to cap the day?

 Chapter 8 - The End of the First Day

    It has been a truly long, tiring, miserable day. Claire''s feet ache so much that the moment her feet touch the warm water in the basin she prepared in the bathroom, it is deliriously satisfying. She closes her eyes, not even having the energy to actually be self-conscious about her n?k?dness. After all, who''s there to see her? Karen''s busy with the boyfriend, watching Netflix in their poor excuse of a living room. And she''s sure Lena''s not in the apartment at the moment. She didn''t ask because she didn''t want to know or has the energy to want to know. Things are already tiring as they are. What she needs most in the world right now, right at this very moment, is a little "me time." And thankfully, the bathroom is one of the few sanctuaries in this crazy world for her; it''s even a sanctuary from her mates'' daily ?ssault on her senses.

    Living with Karen and Lena isn''t easy. Their personalities are worlds apart. Karen''s a little worldly¡ªtoo worldly for Claire''s taste¡ªand having a string of rich boyfriends did not help her reputation. Karen would ditch the present one the moment she finds another who''s richer or more willing to splurge material gifts on her. The words "super s?ut" and "gold digger" keep flashing in Claire''s mind whenever the topic of Karen''s lifestyle enters the picture, but she swats the thoughts away¡ªit is not fair to harbor ill feelings toward the other person you share the apartment with. After all, Karen has always been nothing but nice to her, if not a bit condescending, especially for Claire''s lack of boyfriends. The phrase "No Boyfriend Since Birth" has been uttered out in the open all too often, at the expense of Claire''s sense of confidence.

    Back in college, having no boyfriend or any relationship with the same or the opposite s?x (there were a lot of lesbians at Xavier University) was no big deal, really. Claire Monteverde was an over-achiever, and she scared the boys away. She had a reputation for being a fierce debater, an all-around Miss Brainy. She was also President of the student council. Whenever anyone had the nerve to actually ask her the million-dollar question of, "Why are you single?" Claire simply dismissed it with, "Who has time for boys?" Then she would laugh, or deflect attention to something else. But secretly, she pined for someone, anyone who would not be intimidated by her. She didn''t like boys of her age, those college jocks who are into nothing but sports and musky colognes. She wants someone whom she could look up to, someone she could respect.

    These are things neither Karen nor Lena knows¡ªall they thought was she was some loser who couldn''t even get laid in college, some v?r??n who was so painfully innocent that there''s simply no saving her. Karen was more forthright, always offering to "double date" her with her boyfriend''s buddy, to which Claire would respond with some excuse or other. "You''ll never get laid if you keep that up, Claire," Karen would say. Karen''s boyfriend, some dude named Russel, would look at her in some weird way¡ªsomething that borders on ?ust and feigned disgust. Because why not? Claire''s goodlooking, she has the curves, she''s beauty and brains, yet for some reason nobody sees all that.

    Lena, on the other hand, is a bit more level-headed. Lena also doesn''t have a boyfriend currently, as the last one she dumped months ago on account of finding him in bed with someone else. Clich¨¦, but that was true¡ªJack was never big on loyalty, anyway, and going out with Lena, Claire had heard, was due to some wager he had with friends. Long story short, Lena is currently heartbroken, and bitter, and often spends hours inside her room, binge-watching on Korean dramas whenever she''s not at work.

    Right now, as Claire soaks her feet in the warm water, letting her n?k?dness go all out in the sanctuary of the bathroom, she thinks of how in the past many months her money dwindled unstoppably along with her failure to find a decent job. What was wrong with her? When she graduated, in flying colors and all that, she had high hopes¡ªshe''d sally forth into the interview with her heart brimming with confidence. But always, always, they allowed her to leave, saying, "Don''t call us, we''ll call you." But no one called. Is it something to do with how she dresses up? Is her skirt too short, too revealing? Does she come off as too intimidating, to the point of irritating her interviewer? How her confidence went down with every failed interview, her prospects diminishing. Then all of a sudden, out of the blue, she finds this opening for a personal ?ssistant¡ªtoo low for her standards, but it''s for a company called TXCI Technologies, which sells and manufactures high-tech gadgets for half of the world''s consumers, and you''re serving the CEO directly, so Claire thought, "Why not?"

    And now, her first day with TXCI''s CEO has just ended, and what a long day. What a douchebag. What a monster! If you''d read Forbes magazine or Time, you''d think the way Gabriel Tan responded to those interview question, he seemed like a normal, even admirable person. Who knew there''s a monster that lay behind that charming smile? Maybe not a total monster, maybe just some insane person with his rich boy problems and eccentricities, but still. One day down, twenty-nine more to go. Would she even survive one month? She looks at her feet and rummages through her heart for the answer, and her heart sinks: she might not even survive a week, at the rate Gabriel Tan''s eccentricities are going.

    She''s deep in these thoughts when all of a sudden the bathroom door swings open¡ªdidn''t she just lock that door¡ªand Russel, Karen''s boyfriend, appears, sees her, his mouth dropping open.

    Claire screams so hard that Russel jumps out and goes scrambling back to wherever he came from.

 Chapter 9 - The Scandal

    Claire is just wrapping herself with a towel when Karen appears, her face white as sheet.

    "What happened?"

    "I''m sorry," Claire says. "I think I forgot to lock the bathroom door. So when your boyfriend¡­Well¡­"

    Karen''s eyes went round. "Did he see you?"

    Claire could b?r?ly nod. "I think so."

    "Everything?"

    "Everything."

    "Even¡­down there?"

    Claire nods, expecting Karen to burst into hysterics. But then Karen doubles over, and for a moment Claire thinks Karen''s having some acute stomach ache, but then she sees Karen''s face contorted in laughter.

    "Oh my God," Karen manages to blurt out through the giggling fit, "You''ve just been devirginized, Virgin Claire! Finally a man has seen you!"

    "Are you serious? That was your boyfriend!"

    "So what," Karen says, still trying to control her laughter. "Oh my God, Claire. Normally I would be angry, but it is YOU. There''s no harm in letting you have some exposure. It is high time!"

    "Sheesh. Karen, that was so embarrassing." Claire''s face is still blushing.

    "Don''t you worry. That''s nothing to Russell. He has seen tons of women''s bodies, and I''m sure he only has the hots for this body of mine. It was an accident. Don''t worry."

    Just then Russell sheepishly appears round the corner. "Hi, Claire," he mutters, not directly looking at Claire. "So sorry about that. I wanted to pee, and the door was unlocked, so¡­. I didn''t expect to find you here so¡­ so b?r? like that." Sheepish laughter, although Claire notices that Russell''s eyes would furtively dart at her legs, like he''s sizing her up.

    "Sorry, it was actually my fault," Claire says, fixing up her towel, making sure it''s securely in place to hide what needs to be hidden. "Won''t happen again. I was just so tired. It has been a really long day."

    "That''s fine," Karen says. "Sorry about the intrusion. No biggie. Just go ahead with your ritual, Claire." Karen smiles. "Don''t mind him. It''s nothing to him."

    Russell is nodding. "Yeah, it''s¡­ It''s fine."

    The two leave. Claire makes sure the door is not only properly locked, but she even pushes a pail in front of the door to bar it against any accidental opening again. She stands in front of the bathroom mirror, removing her towel, indeed resuming her ritual. She looks fine, come to think of it. Her perky br??sts are not so small, yet not so big. Just the right sizes, and she knows she has it, that X factor connoisseurs of beauty keep harping about. Her slim waist is only further accentuated by her h?ps. And her skin is so soft it felt like touching a baby''s bottom. Karen is right¡ªall this hotness is going to waste because nobody has seen it in all its glory. That''s why Russell¡ªtry as he might, but he cannot hide the d?s?r? in his eyes¡ªsaw something. Russell is smitten, and Claire knows it may become a complication. Russel, after all, is a known go-getter¡ªhis father owns a chain of jewelry stores across the city, and his wealth is a major reason why Karen is dating him. But the sword can cut both ways¡ªRussell can easily dump Karen if he finds someone else worthy of replacing her. What if Russell suddenly d?s?r?s her? What if Russell dumps Karen and starts chasing Claire? Claire, despite everything she knows about the people in her apartment, could not help but smile. That would be wicked, she thinks. She won''t say yes to that, of course, but that would be wicked and fun.

    Don''t be silly, Claire. It was an accident, she tells herself. As she soaks herself in the tub, her mind wanders again. If Gabriel Tan were not as evil as he is, he would be the perfect guy¡ªhe looks like an angel, with that perfect shoulder-length hair, that chiseled physique, that deep voice that could leave p?nt??s in a twist. But sadly, he''s not what he seems to be¡ªthe man''s a douche, in all the meanings of the word. He doesn''t even deserve maybe an iota of his reputation. He should be in an asylum somewhere, if only he''s not that rich.

    Claire''s eyes is closed, replaying in her mind the earlier scene¡ªthere''s something about how Gabriel Tan gets angry. It''s cute, in an odd way, like you''d love to make him angry just to see a s?xier side of him. The way he smashes that cup of coffee against the wall. The devil-may-care attitude. The sheer sense of entitlement, like he knows he owns the world, and acts exactly like it. There''s something sinister and s?xy about him. What if?... What if?...

    A loud knock on the bathroom door, and Karen''s voice from the other side.

    "Claire! Someone''s on the phone. Says he''s your boss. Says it''s very, very urgent!"

 Chapter 10 - The Visit

    "I need you," the voice says. "Right now."

    It takes a moment for Claire to respond. There''s something surreal about the voice of someone you thought you''re done with for today. "Mr. Tan? Is it really you?"

    "Don''t be silly. Who else could be calling you at this hour except your boss with an urgent professional matter?" There''s not a hint of irony in Mr. Tan''s voice. "Of course, it is me."

    "I''m sorry," Claire still could regain her bearings. "But is it way after my office hours?"

    "Yes, I know, but I need you right now. And as my personal ?ssistant, you should attend to my personal needs."

    "Excuse me? Don''t I have regular work hours, too?"

    A pause. Then the voice, so confident and demanding, mutters, "Attend to this tonight, and this adds a whole month''s salary to what you stand to gain at the end of our deal."

    "What?"

    "I said, this adds another month''s salary."

    "For just tonight''s work?"

    "Yes. Or should I say it again a third time?" There''s a hint of cold irritation.

    Claire makes quick mental calculations. Is this serious? If this is, then I should see a document somewhere, an amendment to the Red Contract or something, that states exactly that¡ªthat I stand to gain a year and a month''s salary after all this ends. Because the thing is, everything''s currently verbal¡ªwhat if this man''s just drunk and would forget all about this in the morning?

    The prospect of monetary gain is well and good, but Claire''s tired. Wasn''t she just enjoying her "me time" a moment ago? How grateful she was that the day has ended, this long, tiring day of walking in her cheap shoes under the hot sun, and all that drama just for the coffee? She tries to "sense" her level of energy right now, and weighs it against what she feels is Mr. Tan''s requirement. Can she pull this off? Can she meet his expectations? Isn''t she too tired right now with no energy for anything except maybe sleep?

    "Uhh, sir¡­"

    "And no, you don''t have to walk ever again," Mr. Tan says. "Each time I send you to do something, a car will chauffeur you."

    "But¡­"

    "Right now, I''ve sent a car to your place."

    How did she know about my place? Claire peers through the window blinds, and sees a black sedan that''s obviously a luxury car.

    "There''s a Bentley outside!" Karen squeaks as she''s peering through the blinds of the adjacent window. "I wonder whose it is."

    Who gets so excited over a vehicle, Claire thinks. It''s just a means of transport, whether it''s a Benz or some cheap knock-off. "I think it''s for me," Claire says, her hand over the received so Mr. Tan wouldn''t hear her.

    "Really?" Disbelief is on Karen''s face. After all, who would believe that Virgin Claire, boyfriend-less since birth and has been on a string of failed job interviews, would suddenly have a luxury car fetching her outside her dingy apartment? "You''re kidding, right?"

    Claire turns to the phone. "I''m tired, sir. You know what I''ve been through the whole day. At least tell me what I''m expected to do tonight."

    "My butler will explain everything," Mr. Tan says. A pause. "Do this for me tonight, and I will appreciate it."

    And how is that, is what Claire wants to ask. But what comes out of her mouth is, "Okay." Then an afterthought. "Do I have to dress up?"

    "That''s taken care of," Mr. Tan says. "Lopez, the butler, will provide everything you need."

    At the back of her mind, she wonders what in the world is this, what have I gotten myself into? What activity is she supposed to engage in at this time of night, with everything¡ªher ride, her dress, and who knows what else¡ªis already taken care of. Like she''s a puppet who must only show up, and everything proceeds as it is meant.

    "Give me a moment," she says. But he has hung up.

    She put on the most casual attire she could think of, a white sleeveless shirt, with a denim jacket, and a pair of denim jeans.

    "Oh, denim on denim," Karen exclaims, sniggering, sweeping Claire with her eyes from head to toe. "I didn''t realize it''s the thing right now."

    "Oh, no, this is nothing," Claire says, suddenly self-conscious of what a fashion disaster she must seem to Karen. "I just need anything to wear. They''re providing me with¡­" Then she realizes she doesn''t owe Karen an explanation. She is what she is. "This is just for work."

    Karen is nodding, but condescension oozes from her eyes. "I see," she says. "Having to work at this time of night, being fetched by some fancy car. That must be some job."

    "Don''t worry," Claire says. "I''m just babysitting."

    As she opens the door, Claire sees the Bentley sedan gleaming right out in front. A uniformed chauffeur and an older man in a suit stand by the car.

    "Good evening, Miss Monteverde," the older man says. "I am Lopez, Mr. Tan''s butler. I''m here to ?ssist you every step of the way." Lopez smiles. "You don''t have to worry about anything."

 Chapter 11 - The House

    "Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to sally forth and conquer and totally, totally slay."

    Lopez the butler didn''t actually say it, but Claire imagines him to have, like what they do in ''Mission Impossible'' movies. Lopez''s demeanor is ultra-serious, as though they''re going to perform heart surgery.

    On the other hand, the chauffeur doesn''t say a thing. If anything, he''s efficient almost to a fault. He always looks ahead, taking really good care of every turn in the road. Sometimes, Claire catches him glancing on the rearview mirror.

    "We''re making a stop at a house to prepare you."

    "House? Whose house?"

    "Balenciaga," Lopez says, as the car stops in front of a luxury fashion shop on the city''s high street.

    Claire gingerly steps out of the Bentley, gawking at the gilded, glittery store in front of her. "Balenciaga lives here? But this is a store. Is he crazy, too?"

    If Lopez were amused, you won''t know it; he always maintains that deadpan expression, as though he''s so utterly beyond the follies of this world and of individuals. "Balenciaga is a house of fashion, Miss Monteverde. Master Gabriel says to dress you up a highly important social function."

    Fear clutches Claire''s throat. Highly important social function? A million questions instantly run through her head, foremost of which is: what is she gonna do at a highly important social function? She''s not socialite material, for pete''s sakes! She didn''t even know what to do at a beer-drenched college party, what more at a high-society dressy party? What is Gabriel Tan thinking?

    "This way, Madam," Lopez says, ushering her into the store. They are greeted by an overly enthusiastic matron with a heavy European accent. "You must be Claire," she greets, giving her a highly fashionable air kiss. "Ohhh, denim on denim. Horrendous!" The matron grins. "But not completely hopeless. Maybe let''s put some dead animal on you. Or maybe lace. Leather and lace, the whole thing."

    Claire looks at Lopez the butler, who clears his throat. "You already know the purpose of this visit, Madam Estrella. If possible, may we stop beating around the bush and choose the best outfit for tonight''s event."

    Madam Estrella makes a show of how Lopez has offended her. "My, oh my! Always straight as a darned arrow, Lopez the Butler! Not even a second to waste!" Then to Claire. "I admit, Claire, that you really need some work. But give me an hour and I promise you, you will look so damn fab!"

    An hour, Claire thinks. Why an hour? How does choosing what to wear take so long? "Can I choose what to wear, Madam?"

    Madam Estrella looks at her as though a ???kroach has slipped out of her mouth. "No, my dahling! From the looks of you, you don''t strike me as a woman who knows what she''s doing! Let me make the fashion decisions here."

    Madam Estrella leads her by the arm. They pass by a few ladies who look like they''re going to the same haute couture ball. Claire''s eyes almost pop out with everything she''s seeing. It feels so heady, this place. The scent of everything, how the light touches the corners, the fabric of the dresses, how rich they feel in her clammy hands. What is she doing in a place like this?

    In a corner, Lopez stands patiently, his eyes fixed on the vanishing point in front of him, but she knows Lopez is fully aware of even the smallest thing that is happening in the store.

    Madam Estrella disappears into a side room. It takes her maybe 10 minutes before she reappears, a number of dresses in both her arms, her face shining with excitement.

    "Now, try these on," she mutters, her mouth so close to Claire''s ear. "Let''s see if he doesn''t fall head over heels over you when she sees you tonight."

    Who''s he? Claire is momentarily confused. She''s not dressing up for a date. This is all work, and she''s just the reluctant personal ?ssistant dragged from her bed to attend to some shady thing her boss has set for her.

    Inside the fitting room, three serious, unsmiling girls deftly run their hands on her. She''s aghast when they ask her to take her clothes off. "What, here?" One girl nods her head solemnly. Claire looks around. These people are serious. Dead serious. Are they going to harvest my organs? Reluctantly, Claire removes articles of clothing one by one. When she''s down to her und?rw??r, one of the girls starts working. They put one dress on her so carefully, as though the dress is made of gossamer silk. When they''re done, they rolled a life-size mirror in front of her. For a split second, she didn''t recognize the woman in the reflection. Oh my God!

    "You''re gorgeous, dahling!" Madam Estrella gushes. "You are absolutely fantastic! You look like a different person!"

    Claire is speechless, staring at her reflection, her heart pounding in her ?h?st. She''s beautiful, she already knew that, but before this moment, this magical moment, she never knew what a bombshell she actually is. A true femme fatale. Claire Monteverde. Look at that. All her curves so subtly accentuated. The curve of her neck, her beautiful, flawless arms, the way she stands on those Balenciaga pumps. Where have you been all my life, woman?

    When she walks out of the fitting room, even Lopez''s face lights up upon seeing her. "Oh, my God! Err, I mean, you look lovely, Madam Claire."

    "Thank you," Claire manages to say. "So where do we go next?"

    "To the Palace," Lopez says, and quite uncharacteristically, follows it with, "And we have to be there before all those bitches chew his head off."

 Chapter 12 - The Journey to the Unknown

    What''s the Palace? What''s the event? And what is her role in it?

    So many questions, but so far, Lopez is not so forthcoming. All he does is grunt and nod in ?ssent to each of Claire''s conjectures. "It is not my place to provide the details, Madam."

    "But I thought you were sent to actually ''enlighten'' me about it," Claire says.

    "I was sent to merely prepare you, Madam. And to safely escort you to the Palace."

    "And what is this Palace, anyway?"

    "It''s just his house," Lopez says.

    Claire makes a face. "The last time you said we were going to a ''house'', what a house it was!"

    Lopez shakes his head and smiles. "Apologies. I didn''t know you were actually serious when you said you didn''t know anything about Balenciaga."

    Claire is silent for a while. They are now outside the city, and in Claire''s estimation, they''re in the vicinity of what is considered the country''s most posh village. High walls on both sides of the road, and usually the only people you''d see are either maids walking their master''s dogs, or security guards manning the main entrance or the gates of individual mansions. Claire wonders how do people in this area actually live? They''re trapped in their own cocoons of wealth and affluence. They don''t even speak to their next-door neighbor. They live here, but is any of them actually happy? Do they feel fulfilled?

    She''d rather live in her apartment¡ªthat is, if possible, without her annoying flat mates. She''d rather live at the heart of the city, right next door to food trucks and wet markets and everything else. Not here. Not in this kind of place. Claire realizes that even if they offer her a truckload of money to live here, she''d choose not to. She won''t live her life according to other people''s expectations. Especially not these kinds of people.

    It''s already deep in the night. Claire tries to see anything outside the window, but it''s getting darker, the mansions getting farther and farther from one another. The Bentley makes a turn to what seems like the last road of the posh village, and to her surprise, they proceed deep into the darkness. They''re traversing a lonely country road now, which is actually well-paved, maybe a private access built by whoever owns the mansion at the end of this road. That would be Gabriel Tan or his family.

    They really must hate people, Claire thinks, to choose to live so far away from the rest of the world. No wonder Gabriel Tan has no empathy, his emotional cues a mismatch to those of a regular person. His preference for that complicated coffee, for example. Or his nasty reputation. She wonders if all of that is well-deserved, or part of that is just myth that has grown around him.

    She''s so deep in her thoughts that when Lopez announces that they''re finally at their destination, Claire is startled, like somebody yanked her out of a dream. She peers through the car''s window and is promptly speechless.

    "Are we in Buckingham Palace?" She asks, aware of how stupid the question is.

    Lopez lets out a slight laugh. "Oh, no Madam Claire. We''re just at one of Master Gabriel''s many palaces."

    "I had no idea this kind of structure exists in this country. I feel like we''re in the European heartland."

    "I''m sure you have no idea of many other things about the man we''re all working for."

    Oh, really? She doubts that those are actually good things.

    Lopez opens the door for her. She gingerly steps out, one long leg after another. Before her beckons a long, red carpet leading to a brightly light main door. She''s suddenly acutely aware of how nervous she is¡ªher palms are sweating, and there are bu??erflies in her stomach.

    But she steels her resolve. This is just some stupid party, she tells herself. A party of blissfully ignorant people who don''t know how ninety percent of the world actually live.

    She starts walking down the red carpet, letting her instinct lead her, but it''s all awkward, her gait is awkward, she absolutely has no catwalk persona. She feels so small, a little kitten under the bright lights. Like a bacterium under a microscope. She looks back, and realizes she''s all alone. The Bentley is gone, Lopez is gone. And all around her, the flashes of a thousand cameras pop like lightning in a thunderstorm.

    Suddenly she feels light-headed, like the world starts spinning. Her hand tries to grab the nearest pole, but she grasps nothing but air. And when she steps forward, her Balenciaga pumps hit a crease in the carpet¡ªher momentum propels her forward at an awkward angle, and she''s acutely aware of how she''s crashing into the ground, all under the gaze of a thousand eyes. She thinks, "Oh, Claire, you''ve done it again, you Mistress of Infamy."

    Her eyes closed, she resigns to whatever fate brings her. And yet. She stops falling down. She has stopped seemingly in mid-air. When she opens her eyes, she realizes she''s being cradled by strong, well-muscled arms. She looks up and gets the surprise of her life.

    "You''re late," Gabriel Tan says, holding her in his arms.

 Chapter 13 - The Grand Entrance

    "You didn''t say an exact time," Claire says as Mr. Gabriel Tan helps her up. "So technically I''m not late."

    Gabriel Tan shakes his head. He looks at her weirdly, as though he''s seeing her for the first time. "That black dress looks good on you. That Balenciaga hag did something right, this time."

    "Oh, thank you," Claire mutters, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It is only now that she realizes what a s?xy outfit this is, yet regal at the same time. The dress shows some skin, but only enough to excite the imagination. Claire feels as though she''s royalty from a far-away kingdom who has come to visit.

    When she''s finally able to fully stand up, Mr. Tan offers his hand. She looks at it for a moment, uncertain of what to expect.

    "Come on," Mr. Tan says. "I won''t bite."

    Cautiously, still convinced that there must be a catch with this show of good behavior, Claire takes Mr. Tan''s arm and allows him to lead her down the red carpet. Camera flashes go in a frenzy. Reporters throw them all sorts of questions.

    "Who is she, Gabriel? Is she your new fianc¨¦e?"

    "What happened to Belladonna? Did you dump her?"

    "Does your mother know about this new girl?"

    "What changes can the world expect from TXCI now that you have a new inspiration?"

    Claire is utterly bewildered with all these questions. What fianc¨¦e? Who''s Belladonna? And why is Gabriel Tan treating her as though she''s not his personal ?ssistant? What game is he playing this time? Is this a new level of craziness?

    "What''s happening," she finally manages to mutter, but her voice is drowned out by the noise of the crowd.

    Gabriel is looking ahead, trying to ignore all the cameras and the questions. At one point, he just says, "No!" and "No comment!" and then "Yes, she is my new fianc¨¦e."

    "What did you just say?" Claire''s curiosity and confusion is hitting an all-time high by now. "What fianc¨¦e? Are you referring to me?"

    Still, Gabriel continues leading her down the red carpet and into the waiting double-doors of the Palace. He''s not speaking, just soldiering forward, acting like the gentleman he wants to appear to be. When they arrive at the door, they are greeted by a long line of servants and other guests who acknowledge their¡ªor just his¡ªpresence.

    People are looking at Claire, discreetly whispering among themselves. She catches one line: "Who is the lady in black?" And it takes her a moment to realize they are referring to her. Gabriel Tan leads her into a long hallway lined with life-sized mirrors, and only then did she realize what all the fuss is about: she really is the Lady in Black, she really did own this black dress and killer pumps, and the woman who stares back at her in the mirror is b?r?ly the Claire Monteverde she has known all her life¡ªthe woman reflected looks more like a princess than a personal ?ssistant, and the way Gabriel Tan holds her sweaty hand, you''d think he''s in love with her. Could it be? What if this is the crazy twist to her crazy life? That he came to this sordid affair completely clueless, and now she may be walking away as the fianc¨¦e of one of the world''s leading billionaires? Is it possible that Gabriel Tan is actually a kind-hearted lover underneath all that stone-cold, calculating exterior? Is it possible that her life is about to change tonight?

    But just as she allows herself to get carried away, Gabriel Tan, with his always flawless timing, mutters under his breath, "Act like you actually like me."

    She looks up at him, a mix of confusion and irritation throbbing in her heart. "Can you at least enlighten me on what I''m supposed to be doing?"

    "You''re supposed to act like the woman I am in love with."

    "Huh?" Despite what she was imagining just a while ago, this comes as a surprise. "Are you even serious?"

    "Please stop making me repeat what I''ve just said," he says. "Don''t worry, this is just work. But for tonight, for the mean time, you are my fianc¨¦e. Can you do that? Just for tonight?"

    "What''s in it for me?" Claire asks, even though she already knows the answer.

    "Don''t be so greedy. I already said this is worth a month''s work, on top of everything we''ve discussed. You should be grateful I''m publicly acknowledging you to pose as my fianc¨¦e. Hundreds of women are dying to be in your position."

    Claire is aghast. "Then what are you doing using me as your pretend girlfriend, when you can have anyone at a flick of your finger?"

    Gabriel Tan does not answer. He just looks at her earnestly, and for a moment, he seems real, honest, truthful. "Because you''re smart. Smarter than every bimbo I''ve met. Everyone here are just rich because of their parents'' money. They are just trust fund kids."

    "Aren''t you one of them, too?" And even as the words escape Claire''s mouth, she already regrets it. "Sorry."

    "Don''t worry, I don''t have the d?s?r? to explain myself to you," Gabriel says, his tone inscrutable. "I don''t owe you any explanation. Just keep one thing in mind: Make this the greatest performance of your life."

    "And how do I do that?"

    "We can start with this," Gabriel Tan says, and in front of everyone, he kisses her.

 Chapter 14 - The Kiss

    If this were really "part of the job," then it shouldn''t feel so personal, so delicate. And for some reason, Claire realizes her eyes are closed throughout the duration of the kiss. As if she''s enjoying it. As if it were real. When she opens her eyes, to her surprise, Gabriel Tan''s eyes are closed, too. His lips feel so¡­Claire could not describe it. It''s utterly weird. Weird and¡­and good at the same time. Great, actually, not just good. And in those three seconds their lips are entwined, Claire has a good, close look at the man everyone regards as "the monster." Gabriel doesn''t seem to be as people make him out to be. He looks fine, angelic even. And he feels¡ªand tastes¡ªgood.

    Suddenly, Gabriel''s eyes open, and even as he pulls her away from him, severing the connection, he says, "Don''t enjoy that too much. It''s part of your job."

    Claire''s mind whites out in rage. This is not part of the job, of any regular job, unless that job is whoring. She wants to say all that to his face, but people begin milling around them, congratulating them, and now they''re asking her questions, too. Where is she from? What''s her family''s business? How did she dethrone Michelle Alcantara from being Gabriel''s girlfriend? What does she have that Michelle apparently doesn''t? Is she also a billionaire?

    The questions fly over her head. But one thing stands out: who the heck is Michelle Alcantara?

    "Who''s Michelle?" Claire manages to whisper in Gabriel''s ear. But the man ignores him, swipes a couple of champagne glasses from a passing server, and thrusts one in her hand.

    "Drink," he commands quietly, through his teeth, while trying to smile to the crowd.

    How does he does that, Claire wonders. To be so efficiently two-faced. To be both sinister and "nice" at the same time?

    Claire takes a sip of the champagne. The warmth courses down her throat, and settles in her belly, somewhere underneath the delightful folds of Balenciaga''s lace and well-combed fabric. "Who''s Michelle?" she whispers again. "Is she your ex-girlfriend?"

    Gabriel turns to her. "She''s nothing. Just some whore."

    "What?"

    "Just some whore," Gabriel says.

    "Who''s the whore?" One of the reporters thrusts a phone recorder to their face.

    "No one," Gabriel says and smiles. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to this party. As much as I''d love to chat with you all, my fianc¨¦e and I would love some alone time. So please excuse us."

    The crowd parts like the Red Sea as Gabriel Tan''s security escort carve a path for them.

    Claire gulps down the rest of the champagne in her glass. Everything begins to feel a bit woozy. The name Michelle Alcantara keeps stabbing her brain, and there seems to be no amount of prodding Gabriel to say anything about her would make him so. They reach a relatively private space in the mansion. Gabriel looks around, as if waiting for someone. "Look, Claire," he says. "You''re here for one thing only: to pretend to be my fianc¨¦e. Or my new fianc¨¦e."

    "How do I even do that?"

    "You''re smart. You can talk. I''ve read your profile, your achievements. I know you can do this."

    "I''m not rich, Mr. Tan. I don''t know how to behave like one."

    "I''ll help you," he says, then grabs a couple more glasses of champagne from a server. "Drink more. It''ll loosen up your tongue."

    Claire is about to protest, but Gabriel almost shoves the mouth of the glass to her lips. She sips, likes it, then sips some more. Before she knew it, the glass is empty, and she''s starting on the next one.

    "Why do we even have to do this?" Claire slightly slurs the words. "Why?"

    "I''ll tell you why," Gabriel Tan says. "Because I hate my mother. I hate all these A-grade a-holes here. And most of all, I hate Michelle Alcantara with all my heart. I hope she chokes on her caviar. I hope she gets dumped by the men she''s chasing."

    "She¡ªwhat?" Now Claire''s confusions mounts. "Who''s Michelle? Is she an ex-girlfriend who dumped you for another man?"

    "She didn''t dump me!" There''s actual pain in Gabriel''s voice. "I left her when I found out about this other guy."

    "Sheesh. Are you sure? What if it''s not true? What if it''s just hearsay, and you misjudged her?"

    "I didn''t." He fixes his gaze on her. "I caught them in the act."

    "In the act of what?"

    "Jesus," Gabriel Tan mutters in exasperation. "Do I have to spell out everything for you? The act of consummating their carnal d?s?r?s, is what."

    "Oh, really?" Then Claire''s eyes go round they almost pop out of their sockets. "Oh, really? Oh, I''m sorry! That must suck!"

    "You don''t have to mention it. It is what it is."

    "When was this?"

    "A long time ago," Gabriel says.

    "Yeah, like when? Three months ago? Last year? Five years ago? When? All the people here seem to know her very well."

    Gabriel glances at her sheepishly. "Two weeks ago."

    "Two we¡ª" Claire says. "Jesus, what are you, eleven? I''m sorry, Mr. Tan, but I''m finding this hard to process."

    Gabriel says nothing. "That''s why you''re here. As part ofy my revenge."

    "Revenge how?" Claire asks, but she hasn''t even finished talking when a voice behind them jolts her.

    "So who is this new bitch you''re parading around town, Gabriel?"

    When Claire turns towards the voice, she sees the most beautiful woman she has ever seen, all clad in black.

 Chapter 15 - The Lady in Black

    "So who is she?" the lady in black repeats, with fire in her eyes.

    Gabriel Tan gazes at her dumbly, as if he has regressed back to his childhood.

    "No, who is she, Gab?" Claire asks, regaining her bearings. She''s not going to stand idly by while this woman, with all her annoying sense of self-entitlement, asks the burning questions. ""Who''s this who thinks she owns you?"

    Gabriel Tan sighs. "Claire, this is Michelle Alcantara, my ex. Michelle, this is Claire, my new girlfriend¡­Err, fianc¨¦e."

    "Fianc¨¦e my ?ss," Michelle hisses. "I don''t believe that. Stop playing your games, Gab. And let this poor girl go. She deserves better. She doesn''t have to be part of your stupid pretend game."

    "She''s not pretending," Gabriel protests.

    "I''m not pretending," Claire seconds.

    As a response, Gabriel takes Claire by the waist and presses her body against his. "We are in love, Michelle. So please don''t stand in the way of our love!"

    Upon hearing that, Claire dies a little inside. Where does Gabriel get all these cheesy lines? Why is he acting so stupid, so erratic now? Claire realizes maybe this woman really hurt Gabriel for her to have this effect on him.

    "Oh, my God, Gab!" Michelle laughs. "''Don''t stand in the way of our love''. Come on! Two weeks ago you were going to marry me!"

    "Two weeks ago I caught you cheating on me!" Gabriel retorts.

    "Two weeks ago, I was drunk and didn''t know what I was doing," Michelle says. "Can''t you even forgive just one indiscretion? We were together for years, Gab!"

    "Exactly!" Gab says, getting a bit angrier now. "That''s what I am saying. Years. How long had we been together? Ten years? And you had the gall to destroy that just for a one-night stand with that a-hole!"

    "I never intended that to happen!" Michelle says, almost on the verge of tears. "They slipped something in my drink. Next thing I knew, I was in that room¡­"

    "Aw, stop it!" Gabriel groans. "I don''t want to hear it all again!" He turns to Claire. "My love, I''m sorry about this. My ex-girlfriend is trying desperately to win me back." He turns to Michelle. "But that won''t ever happen."

    "Oh, thank you, my love," Claire purrs, so into her role now. She runs her palm on Gabriel''s ?h?st. He looks at his face for a reaction, but Gabriel''s acting well. You won''t know this is all pretend.

    "I don''t believe this," Michelle says, crossing her arms across her ?h?st. "No, I''m not buying this story. So stop your bullshit, will you."

    "We don''t care if you believe this or not," Gabriel says. "Claire and I love each other, and that''s the only thing that matters."

    Michelle makes a face, acting as if she''s choking on something. "God, come on. Stop it. You''re making me puke. If you''re really, truly, madly in love with each other, prove it."

    "What do you mean?"

    "Prove it. Kiss her. Kiss her like it''s the last night of the world. I want torrid. I want French. I want¡ª"

    "Aw come on!" Gabriel stomps on the floor like he''s throwing a tantrum. "What torrid? We don''t kiss in public! We''re very private¡ª"

    "You don''t kiss because it''s not real," Michelle teases. "Admit it, Gab. This is all pretend." She laughs.

    While this exchange is happening, Claire merely looks on, growing uncertain about what to feel by the second. She''s feeling confused now as to what really is the matter. Hearing that they broke up only a couple of weeks ago, Claire wonders if this is another of Gabriel Tan''s childish, even crazy, emotional responses to things, and she''s just the unwitting pawn. Should she really play as his fianc¨¦e to the end? Or should she admit that, yes, this is just a job, she''s just being paid so handsomely, and truth be told, she would not¡ªnot in a million years¡ªfall in love, not even like, a person such as Gabriel Tan.

    But Gabriel Tan takes her hand, and even as Michelle mouths out the words, "Kiss. Kiss if it''s real," Claire sees Gabriel turning to her, his face an odd mixture of grim determination and the d?s?r? for revenge, everything moving in slow-mo as Gabriel''s lips seeks hers, and their lips locks again for the second time tonight.

    The world stops. She hears Michelle, from so far away, tease, "French. Torrid. Kiss like you really mean it, or else¡­" And as if on cue, she feels Gabriel''s mouth open so ever slightly, his tongue emerging from whatever warm place it was hiding, seeking hers. And Claire doesn''t understand, but for some reason, her own tongue responds, gingerly touching his at first, then, as if completing a secret handshake, a handshake of tongues, she opens her mouth even more and lets Gabriel Tan in, her boss, as much as he wants. She gives him free reign of her lips, her tongue, and in the dizzying blur of that moment, as her sense of awkwardness is drowned out by a growing sense of p???sur?, she feels her arms grasping Gabriel Tan''s back, ??r?ssing it. Claire hears herself m??ning, while Michelle, from so far away, seems to have fallen silent.

    After what feels like a million years of indulging in that p???sur?, Claire slowly opens her eyes and sees Gabriel Tan gazing at her. Something''s different.

    "Oh, my God," Michelle mutters. And Claire is surprised to realize Michelle is still there, standing, watching them. "You two really are¡­something."

    "Yes, Michelle," Gabriel says. "We''re over. I''m done with you. Now, I''m not sure who invited you here, but this is my party. Should I call security to escort you out, or would you be so gracious to see yourself out?"

    Michelle Alcantara scowls, but she says nothing. She glares at him for a second, glares at Claire, then without as much as even a whimper, storms out of the Palace.

 Chapter 16 - The Morning After

    Claire squints as the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows hits her eyes. Her head throbs with dull pain. And even as she tries to remember what happened last night, she dimly realizes: Wait, our apartment doesn''t have floor-to-ceiling windows!

    She looks around. The room is huge, yet lavishly appointed. Outside, she could make out the tops of trees and the hills nearby. Where is she? What is this place? What the heck happened to her?

    She tries to get up, and to her horror, she''s wearing a different set of clothing. She''s used to wearing an oversized t-shirt and und?rw??r when she goes to bed, but here she''s wearing proper sleep garments.

    Claire walks around, inspecting the room. She goes to the window and gazes outside. Down there, she could see a man tending the bushes. She could make out a long driveway that seems to go over the horizon. Everything is so peaceful, so calm. But what rages in her head is nothing but one question: What is this place?

    She sits down on the nearest chair and rakes her head for memories of last night. She was at this party¡­Hmmm, wait, there was Gabriel Tan. She was supposed to do a job. But what job was it again? She touches her lips in reverie, and that triggers another piece of memory: the kiss. The kiss with all its confusing feelings and nuances. Gabriel Tan kissed her. They kissed. How did that end? It''s all a blur. She doesn''t even remember what happened after the kiss. She remembers a very angry lady in black¡ªah, Michelle! The ex-girlfriend¡ªstorming out of the scene, leaving her in¡­in¡­in what?

    Champagne. Lots of it, coursing down her throat. How is it that something that tastes so good and seemingly benign could have a huge impact on her head and memory and self-control?

    But back to the kiss: what did Gabriel Tan do after the lady in black left? Did they continue kissing? Claire has no idea. She feels as if somebody flipped a switch in her brain and all her memory of last night ended with the lady storming out, cursing under her breath, vowing to take revenge of them all. Wasn''t that so rich?

    Someone knocks on the heavy wooden door, and before Claire could answer, a woman clad in a maid''s uniform enters, pushing in a trolley. "Good morning, Miss Claire," she says cheerfully. "I see you''re up already."

    "Where am I?"

    "You''re in the Palace," the maid says, matter of factly, so sure in her sense of reality that when you say "the Palace," the entire world should understand it.

    "Ah. But why am I here? Who brought me here?"

    "How do you mean, Miss Claire?" There''s genuine confusion in the maid''s face. "You arrived here last night, at the grand ball. Weren''t you with Master Gabriel?"

    "Yeah, I remember that but¡­But¡­"

    "Master Gabriel brought you to this room when you passed out."

    "I passed out?"

    "Yes. I think you drank too much." The maid smiles. "Master Gabriel brought you here himself, cradled you in his arms, and brought you down on that very bed."

    Claire could not help but blush; is Gabriel Tan really that strong? She''s not the most lightweight of women, if truth be told, especially if one had to bring her up some sort of stairs. "Are we on the second floor?"

    "No, Miss Claire¡ª"

    Claire breathes a sigh of relief¡ª

    --"We''re on the fourth floor, Miss Claire."

    "Oh, my God!" Claire imagines Gabriel Tan bringing her all the way up to this floor, in his arms, her full weight bearing down on him. She could not imagine the man, although well-built as he is, could have done that without breaking his back or something. "How did Gabriel do that? He carried me all the way up here?"

    The maid nods quite excitedly. "Yes, yes, Miss Claire. It was only him. He didn''t let any of his bodyguards carry you. Isn''t he such a sweet fianc¨¦?"

    Claire stops. Clearly, not everyone knows it''s all an act, this romantic engagement thing. She looks at the maid and decides she doesn''t owe her an explanation. "What''s your name, by the way?"

    "They call me Lucille, Miss Claire."

    "Lucille, may I ask, what happened after he brought me here?"

    "Well," Lucille the maid begins. "He asked me to get some clothes for you."

    "What?" Claire doesn''t like where this is leading. "Then what after that?"

    "Well, I thought that was odd, because you were already wearing maybe the nicest dress I''ve seen in my life. But Master Gabriel said to fetch you something much more comfortable, for sleeping or something. So I went to our wardrobe manager¡ª"

    --"You have a wardrobe manager in this place?"

    --"Yes, Miss Claire, the one we call Miss Cassandra. And it took Miss Cassandra just a few minutes to locate the clothes you''re wearing right now."

    "Then what after that?"

    "Then I brought the clothes here."

    "Then what after that?"

    "Then Master Gabriel changed your clothes."

    "He what?"

    "He changed your clothes, Miss Claire."

    Claire is beet red. "Did he actually took off my clothes while I was unconscious?"

    "Well, uhh¡­Well, not really like that."

    "Then how?"

    "Well, how do I explain this?" Lucille sighs. "The black dress you were wearing? It was difficult to take off. It takes two people to remove because of the bu??ons and zippers, remember? So what Master Gabriel did¡ª"

    "Did he see me n?k?d?"

    "Oh, no!" Lucille giggles. "Master Gabriel, he looked away as we both worked to remove the dress."

    "How was that possible without at least seeing me?"

    Lucille shrugs. "He tried¡­He tried to look away, really." Lucille giggles, and it''s those giggles that make Claire want to strangle her with her b?r? hands.

    "After you removed the dress, how did you put the sleepwear on me then?"

    "I was the one who did that," Lucille says. "Master Gabriel just stood right over there¡ª" she points to a spot by the window¡ª"looking outside, waiting for me to say that it was finished."

    Claire breathes a sigh of relief. "So." She looks around, remembering something. "So where''s the Balenciaga dress then?"

    "The Balen-tha-ga?"

    "The Balen¡ªthe black dress. Where is it?"

    "I brought it back to Miss Cassandra, as ordered by Master Gabriel."

    "Oh, I see¡­"

    "Oh!" Lucille jumps. "I almost forgot. I brought you your breakfast! Here!" Lucille almost theatrically removes the cover on the trolley, revealing all sorts of pastries, a pot of coffee, what looks like freshly squeezed juice with still the pulp in it, fried eggs and bacon.

    Claire salivated at the sight of it. Only then did she realize she''s hungry. "There''s too much food. I can''t eat all of this, Lucille!"

    "Doesn''t matter, Miss Claire! It''s Master Gabriel''s orders. To make sure that his fianc¨¦e is well-fed and happy."

    Claire almost chokes on the "his fianc¨¦e" part. What''s wrong with Gabriel Tan? Can''t he drop the act already?

    "Alright, I''ll dig in, Lucille," Claire says, pulling up a chair to hunker down on the food.

    Lucille pours her coffee while she digs in. The eggs on toast is exquisite¡ªthis is five-star hotel fare, by all indications¡ªand the Danish is just oh-so-right. "Sorry, Lucille, but please dine with me. I''m famished."

    Lucille smiles as she watches her eat. "I''m fine, Miss Claire. Besides, I can''t be caught sharing food with our most esteemed guest."

    "Oh, no, the rules don''t apply here. Come on." She picks up a piece of toast. "Here, get whatever you want, eat with me."

    "I can''t, Miss Claire," Lucille says. "Sorry, but I''ve been trained to follow all the rules down to the last letter."

    "Oh, okay," Claire says. "If that''s what you want, then have at it."

    Claire eats so voraciously that Lucille keeps on giggling at the sight of her. "You''re a little strange, Miss Claire."

    "Why''s that," Claire manages to say, in between mouthfuls.

    "You don''t look like you eat much. In fact, people looking at you and seeing your s?xy body, they''d think you only eat bird seed."

    Claire gotta laugh at that, especially with the phrase "sexy body." When was the last time anybody called or described her that? Never, is what. Nobody has ever said that she''s s?xy, although maybe Russel, Karen''s boyfriend, might agree. Claire often hides her figure with ill-fitting clothes and out-of-fashion denim jackets. She was only compelled to wear a nice-fitting corporate attire whenever she had to attend any of those job interviews.

    "You know what," Claire says. "You''re maybe the first person who ever said that I''m s?xy."

    "You''re kidding, Miss Claire!" Lucille''s eyes are wide open in disbelief. "How could that possible be?"

    "Yes, it is true. Only you."

    "But what about Master Gabriel, your fianc¨¦?"

    "Well, actually, he¡ª" Claire is about to reveal the truth, but stops. Maybe Lucille must not know, because if her master realizes that Lucille knows, maybe it won''t bode well for the poor maid. "Well, he is the only other person in my entire life who said I am s?xy." Claire smiles.

    "Awww," Lucille whimpers. "That''s so sweet!"

    "Is your Master Gabriel really a nice person?"

    "Yes," Lucille says without hesitation. "He saved my whole family from a famine. I''m alive today because of him."

    This piques Claire''s interest. "Really? How?"

    "It''s rather a very long story, Miss Claire. I hope I can tell you that story some other time. But to make it short, we were starving in a far-flung province when Master Gabriel, in one of his charity missions, found us and brought us all here."

    This is the first time Claire is hearing about this. And all the while¡ªespecially with everything that Mrs Gomez the office receptionist said about Gabriel Tan¡ªClaire thought Gabriel is a one-track mind, a solid, true-blue monster. Charity missions, saving people''s lives¡ªthese seem like not the Gabriel Tan Claire is led to believe.

    "I didn''t know Gabriel''s involved in charity missions," is all that Claire is able to say.

    "Yes, he is," Lucille begins saying, but the heavy doors suddenly swing open and Gabriel Tan appears, his face the face of someone who would want to crush people to death.

 Chapter 17 - The Offer

    It''s hard to get what Gabriel Tan is really thinking at any given moment. He''s like the weather, or some typhoon¡ªsometimes you never know which direction he''s taking next. Like now. Just a moment ago, Claire was so impressed about the story of how Gabriel Tan had saved Lucille''s family. How he must be some sort of a knight in shining armor. But now, as Gabriel Tan scowls at them, Claire realizes there''s much more to him than meets the eye. At the very least, Gabriel Tan is a puzzle.

    "Lucille, please leave us alone," he says.

    Lucille makes a hurried bow and leaves the room, carefully closing the door as she slips out.

    Gabriel stares at her. "Don''t believe anything she just said," he says.

    "What do you mean?" Claire says, stopping in mid-munch¡ªthere''s still food in her mouth. She eyes the pot of coffee longingly, desiring to wash down the pastries with a mug of steaming caffeine. But they''re in that awkward situation now. Reaching over the table to get the coffee pot, pour its contents into her mug, drinking it, waiting a moment for the liquid to settle in her belly, after which only then she could tell Gabriel, "What''s wrong with what Lucille had said?" That would be awkward. So she sits there, food in her mouth and all, and mumbles, "Was she lying?"

    Gabriel shakes his head. "No," he says. "I mean, I don''t want people talking about what I''ve done or what I think. I don''t appreciate anyone who makes the ?ssumption that they know me, know my motives. I don''t like it."

    "But are you denying everything that Lucille has said."

    Gabriel turns to her. "Maybe."

    Oh, that''s helpful, Claire thinks. Now Gabriel Tan is really "turning on the charm" this time. She makes a big shrug and says, "It doesn''t matter, really. It doesn''t concern me whom you helped or whose lives you saved or if you''re really a lousy person or not. What concerns me is what am I doing here?"

    "You''re here because you''re my fianc¨¦e," Gabriel mutters as he ambles toward the window. "You''ll do fine here. Servants will serve you. Everything you need will be given. I just need you here for a few more days."

    "What? Are you serious?"

    "Do I have to repeat myself?"

    "But I have a life! And I''ve never thought I''d stay here longer than a few hours. We had a deal¡ª"

    "And the deal''s the same," Gabriel says. "Nothing of it changes. You still get a year and a month''s full salary if you are able to fulfill my requirements of work for a whole month. I remember the deal down to the last letter. I remember every word of the Red Contract."

    "Then why this? This doesn''t seem like it''s part of the deal!"

    "Will you calm down?" Gabriel is a bit irritated now. "You can treat this as a special project under the same deal, understand? That''s why there''s extra compensation. That''s why there''s a month on top of a full year."

    "No," Claire says firmly. "The job was about attending the party last night. Last night only. And it expired at the break of dawn. The special project isn''t about extending it to a few more days with me staying here like some sort of prisoner."

    "Oh, my God, Miss Monteverde, are you even serious? Does any of this feel like you''re in prison? Look around you?"

    Claire actually looks around her, and sees what he means.

    "You''re treated like a queen here. Nobody knows¡ªwell, maybe Lopez the butler knows¡ªbut the household is fully in the belief that you''re my actual fianc¨¦e. That you''ve descended from royalty."

    Claire gotta laugh. "Royalty? Me? Do I look like there''s blue blood coursing through my veins?"

    "I meant that figuratively, Jesus." Gabriel sighs. "The point is, you won''t even be inconvenienced. We''re just extending your stay here, just in case Michelle comes in checking. You''ll have everything you''ll need. It''s not like you have a busy schedule in the next few days. Won''t you like it? You''ll be pampered here while getting paid handsomely."

    "And the point is," Claire says, "if this is another special project apart from last night''s project, then every day of my stay here should be treated as its own distinct special project. Which means there should be additional compensation."

    Gabriel stares at her. "You''re so greedy," he says. He falls silent for a while.

    Claire almost regrets what she just said. The truth is, she''s delighted to stay¡ªbetween this mansion and her cramped apartment that she shares with Karen and Lena, it''s a no-brainer¡ªwho would, in their right mind, choose that dingy, cramped apartment, whose toilet sometimes gets clogged so badly? If she''s honest, she wouldn''t charge more for these so-called "special projects"¡ªshe''d be delighted to just be here, spend a few days cocooned in this distinct luxury. But then again, she''s speaking with Gabriel Tan, and for a man like this one, there''s no free lunch¡ªeverything must have a price. She has to put on the fa?ade of a calculative, merciless business partner. Because, at bottom, this is just a business arrangement, right?

    "So a week of extra pay for every day of my stay here," Claire says. "Do we have a deal?"

    Gabriel squints at her, his mind running a few calculations. "At the rate at which this thing is going, you''ll be a billionaire at the end of the month," Gabriel said, unsmiling.

    "Then isn''t that just grand?" Claire chirps, ignoring Gabriel''s tone. "Do we have a deal, or should I gather my things and leave?"

    "You have no ''things'', remember," Gabriel said. "You were wearing the dress I made you wear when you came in."

    "I meant that figuratively, Jesus," Claire sighs. "Why do you have to be such a small man?"

    Gabriel says nothing. They gazed at each other for a moment. Gabriel sighs. He extends a hand to the still-seated Claire. "Alright, we have a deal."

    Claire awkwardly shakes his hand; she still has bread crumbs on her palm, for pete''s sakes.

    "Firm handshake, I like that," Claire comments, playfully squeezing Mr. Tan''s hand. "I appreciate your business, Mr. Tan." She smiles.

    And despite himself, Gabriel Tan has to smile too, realizing how utterly surreal this whole arrangement is. "I, uhh, appreciate your business, too, Miss Monteverde."

    "Now if you''ll excuse me, I must have my business breakfast, please," Claire says, expecting Gabriel Tan to disappear. Yet, he stays there, standing. Claire shrugs, and resumes eating.

    The eggs, previously divinely poached and warm, are now cold and greasy. The bacon has lost its crispiness. And the coffee''s almost gone. These things do not escape Gabriel Tan''s attention.

    "You need a full refill, Miss Monteverde," he says, as he presses a bu??on on the wall. Three seconds, and Lucille is back at the door, pushing another trolley.

    Claire is so surprised and impressed that she almost stood up. "Lucille? How did you know¡­"

    "We anticipate our master''s needs, Miss Claire," Lucille chirps. "We know everything."

    Gabriel looks on as Lucille deftly replaces the dishes on the table with a fresh batch of everything, and then some: she also arranges another set of plates and cutlery on the opposite side of the table.

    "Whose plate is that?" Claire says. "Do we have another guest?"

    Lucille doesn''t know how to answer it. She glances uneasily at Gabriel Tan, who''s standing there and seemingly waiting for her to finish up.

    "Miss Claire, what do you mean?"

    "That extra plate. Whose plate is that?" In all fairness, Claire is really innocently bewildered¡ªshe''s thinking there must be some other guest who''s coming.

    Gabriel clears his throat. "It''s mine, honey," he says. "I''ve decided we should have breakfast together. Celebrate our recently forged engagement. Remember, you''re my fianc¨¦e? Lovers like us should have breakfast together, don''t you think?"

    Claire secretly cringes at "lovers like us"; what the heck is wrong with this guy? One moment he''s so suave, the next moment he''s awkwardness and silliness personified. "Oh, how sweet of you, my lover, err, I mean, honey!" Claire tries not to giggle. "Please let us have breakfast together as two recently engaged people, or lovers."

    Gabriel glares at her. If Claire keeps up with this, Lucille might sense that this is all some kind of joke. "Thank you, my¡­Err, I mean, Claire." Ostensibly, Gabriel takes the seat opposite her.

    Claire is trying hard not to giggle that she has reddened in the face. She stabs an egg, fried sunny-side-up and still steaming, but the egg falls apart and the yolk gushes out. "Look, even the egg is trying to be hilarious."

    "There''s nothing hilarious about us having breakfast together, honey," Gabriel says sternly.

    "Yes, I completely agree with you, my lover," Claire says, now giggling.

    "Why are you laughing then?" Gabriel still tries to keep a straight face in front of Lucille the maid.

    "I''m not laughing," Claire says. "I''m just so happy that you are eating breakfast with me, my lover!"

    Gabriel glares at her and mouths out wordlessly, "Stop saying ''my lover''!" That finally sends Claire to laugh out loud.

    Even Lucille is confused about how to behave or what to do¡ªshe''s having a hard time following what seems to be a secret conversation between the couple. She meekly excuses herself, and slips out of the room.

    As the heavy doors bang shut, Gabriel Tan faces his fake fianc¨¦e. "Come on. Stop it, Miss Monteverde. We can''t play that kind of game. If anyone here catches on what we''re up to, I''m telling you, the deal will be forfeited."

    "Alright!" Claire puts her hands up in mock surrender. "I''ll behave, then. Now, are you really having breakfast with me?"

    "Sure, why not?"

    "Are you sure? Isn''t this what you people call ''peasant food''?"

    "Don''t be silly." Gabriel shoves stacks of bacon and eggs on his plate and begins eating rather voraciously. Yolk dribbles down his chin, but he doesn''t wipe it off and just continues eating. Claire watches him in amazement; she feels as though she''s seeing a rare side of Gabriel Tan, a side that the world outside almost never sees.

    "What?" Gabriel says, noticing her staring at him.

    "Nothing," Claire says. She points to his chin. "You eat like a pig. Yolk down your chin."

    "I don''t care," Gabriel says. "This is how I eat. I eat in utter abandon. You should see me make love."

    "Eww!" Claire grimaces. "Please don''t even try to describe your s?x life to me, Mr. Tan."

    Claire makes a face as though she''s disgusted. But deep inside, she wonders: So how is Gabriel Tan in bed? Is he a tender lover, or a hard, acrobatic, demanding one? Would she even have a chance to know? It''s weird: everyone else in the mansion thinks they''re the real deal, a true couple. Yet here she is, wondering about the peculiar ways Gabriel Tan makes love with his women.

    "Stop staring at me like that," Gabriel says. "It makes me think you''re falling in love with me, Miss Monteverde. We can''t have that. This is purely business." He grins.

    "Not in a million years," Claire says. But as she quietly sips her coffee, she wonders: is it really impossible? What if she actually falls in love with this man?

    What if?

 Chapter 18 - The Palace

    After breakfast, Claire took a nap. There''s nothing to do, anyway, and for some reason, the more coffee she drank, the sleepier she got. Must still be the after-effects of the champagne last night.

    When she wakes up, it''s still the middle of the day. The sun is still streaming through the windows. It''s such a beautiful day to waste holed up in this room. She doesn''t know how to call the househelp or Lucille. She doesn''t know where Lopez the butler is. The strange thing about this huge mansion is you don''t see a lot of people¡ªthey seem to be hiding somewhere, or neatly tucked away to avoid being unnecessarily seen.

    Claire slips out of the room and out onto a wide, long corridor. The walls are lined with oil paintings of distinguished-looking men of women. At the very end is a life-sized portrait of a young woman who looks every inch like a queen. She must be Gabriel''s sister, Claire wonders.

    She descends the stairs and out the main door without meeting anyone. Once outside, the breeze is fragrant with the scent of lavender. In the distance, a workman tends the hedges. And farther still, a man on horseback roams the grounds, as though patrolling it. Must be one of the guards¡ªand on horseback, too. How quaint!

    Claire explores the grounds, taking delight in everything she sees and encounters. The ancient fountain in the middle of a side garden seems to have seen centuries. How many generations of lovers meeting secretly under the moonlight it must have witnessed? How many heartbreaks, how many triumphs?

    As Claire walks farther out and gets enough distance, she looks back and gets a good look at the whole structure of the Palace, which actually looks like Buckingham Palace in London, or Downton Abbey from the TV series. It must have hundreds of rooms, and so easily to get lost into. I wonder where Gabriel is right now, she thinks. A mansion of this size and complexity must employ dozens of housekeepers and maids and maintenance personnel, and yet, she has rarely encountered a lot of people.

    After their breakfast, Gabriel excused himself on account of some urgent business, only he didn''t say if he''s doing that business right here at the Palace or was he driving back to the city. She just ?ssumed that, given the fact that they have to keep up the act of being together, he might as well stay here at the mansion just in case Michelle returns.

    She wonders about what kind of hold Michelle has on him to the point he actually has to go to great lengths just to craft this fiction. Normally, you just tell the ex to sod off, right? It doesn''t matter whether or not she actually believes your ruse. Who''s Michelle Alcantara, anyway? Claire has no idea about the city''s socialites and daughters of the ultra-rich, but she has reason to suspect Michelle must be the daughter of some major tycoon, probably one as influential and rich as Gabriel.

    "So you''re here, Miss Monteverde," a voice says that jolts her. When she turns back, she finds the man on horseback, alighting his horse and bowing to her.

    "Does everyone in this place bow?"

    The horseman smiles at that. "I''m Eduard, captain of the Palace''s guards. Master Gabriel has been looking for you."

    "Palace guards? There are actual Palace guards here?"

    "Yes," Eduard says. "Many of them are strategically concealed, and the ones we let people see are posted by the main doors and all the obvious passageways. But I ?ssure you there are many of us here, and we know exactly where every single guest is at the moment."

    For some reason, Claire blushes at that¡ªso her little solo adventure wasn''t so solo after all. "You''re saying Gabriel is looking for me?"

    "Yes, Miss Monteverde."

    "And may I know why?"

    Captain Eduard merely smiles. "I won''t dare ask the Master his reasons for his orders. He gives word, we follow. I am to bring you to Miss Cassandra for some wardrobe fitting. My knowledge stops there."

    Why so mysterious, Claire wonders. It''s just a simple thing, yet here in this place, even the simplest things seem to be unnecessarily complicated. Is Miss Cassandra going to give her a new dress, is there a new party tonight? Is this the norm here, every night a party? Doesn''t that get tiring and old after a while?

    "Where to?" Claire asks.

    "Please," Captain Eduard gestures towards his horse, which means she should take a horseride with him.

    "I don''t know how to ride a horse, Captain Eduard."

    "Let me," he says, then he helps her get upon the steed, who is actually very mild mannered.

    "She''s lovely," Claire mutters, ??r?ssing the horse''s white mane.

    "She''s the finest there is," Eduard agrees as he, too, climbs.

    As they gallop back towards the palace, Claire feels a bit awkward, as many times she has to hold onto Eduard''s waist in order not to get thrown off the horse. "I''m sorry," she''d mutter, which Eduard answers with, "Just hold on, Miss Monteverde."

    Miss Cassandra''s office is directly behind the grand staircase, accessible only through a lavishly appointed and ornate vestibule. Claire had an idea how Miss Cassandra must look, but the actual one still surprises her: Miss Cassandra is not a year older than she is, yet it is obvious that the woman is a well-respected expert in her field. She carries herself with such bearing that Claire finds herself staring at Miss Cassandra''s face for a few awkward minutes before she realizes the faux pas.

    "Lovely to meet you finally, Miss Monteverde," Miss Cassandra gives a warm, delicate handshake.

    "Lovely to meet you, too," Claire mutters, her voice almost a whisper; she''s still too stupefied.

    "As you know, I''m supposed to dress you up for a little event that is happening right now."

    "Right now?"

    Miss Cassandra nods. "And I''ve found the perfect thing to wear for you."

    Claire''s jaws drop upon seeing what Miss Cassandra''s holding: a skimpy two-piece bikini swimsuit.

 Chapter 19 - The Red Skimpy Bikini

    "What''s that?" Claire couldn''t believe her eyes.

    Miss Cassandra stares at her, then turns to the skimpy bikini in her hand. "I don''t follow."

    "I mean, am I supposed to wear that?"

    Miss Cassandra smiles. "Oh dear. Didn''t Captain Eduard tell you? You''re supposed to attend a little event at the pool."

    "Another event?"

    "Yes." Miss Cassandra holds the bikini against Claire''s body, as if testing it. "That''s how things happen here, if you must ask. One moment you''re having a party. The next moment, you''re, err, having another party."

    "This is ridiculous," Claire mutters to herself. "Is this not going to end?"

    "I''m sorry, what?" Miss Cassandra says. "What''s ending?"

    "Oh, nothing. Nothing." Claire receives the bikini as if entranced. It''s fiery red, with flimsy straps to attach themselves to the body. Claire imagines herself wearing it, and she gulps at what she sees¡ªshe''s going to b?r? so much skin. Isn''t this exploitation? Gabriel didn''t even mention this earlier during breakfast! Did he just make this thing up now? Claire''s entire being is dying to resist this most recent turn of events.

    Miss Cassandra seems to have read her thoughts. "I''m sorry, Miss Monteverde, but Mr. Tan wants me to remind you of your private agreement with him. He made me understand that this is part of your agreement."

    Claire stares at the young fashion stylist slash wardrobe manager dumbly. She still couldn''t process the whole thing. She thought she could spend the next few days while she''s in the mansion in relative peace and quiet. She thought the party last night was the wildest she was going to experience. And now this.

    "Sorry, I think I''d need to speak to Gabriel first," Claire says.

    "What for?" Miss Cassandra says. "Your fiance''s already at the pool waiting for you. It''s not like you haven''t done this before, have you? It''s just a pool party."

    "He didn''t tell me there''s going to be a pool party."

    "Exactly," Miss Cassandra says, trying to be the patron saint of patience. "That''s why he wants me to take care of it. So here''s your bikini. All you have to do is head over there and slay. What''s the big deal?"

    The big deal is I''ve never worn a bikini before, especially not in front of people¡ªis what Claire wants to say. Sure, she has seen her body a million times in front of a mirror, and what she has seen is always pleasing, always a "sight for sore eyes," as they say. The woman in the reflection is the image of self-confidence and feistiness¡ªbut there''s only one catch: that all happens alone in her room. If you don''t count the accident at the bathroom last night with Karen''s boyfriend Russel, maybe you can count with the fingers of one hand the number of people who have seen her n?k?d, or at least semi-naked, in her life. Her mom and dad notwithstanding.

    And now her fake fianc¨¦ is demanding her to do something she holds sacred, in a casual pool party, no less. What should Claire do?

    Perhaps more importantly, what would her mom, Carol Monteverde, would do, if faced with a similar situation?

    Her mom, Carol Arevalo, was legendary for her beauty and achievements. She''s always aspired to follow her mother''s footsteps. But unlike Claire, her mother was also legendary in her youth for a different reason: she was a certified playgirl, having a string of boyfriends she left crying like heartbroken little boys in her wake. Her mom was the Ice Queen, never succumbing to her own emotions and treating men as secondary creatures¡ªthat is, until she met her future husband, Claire''s dad, Magnus Monteverde. There was something about Magnus, Carol would tell her daughter years later, that made her change her mind about men, about life, about relationships. And it''s a story whose narrative still unfolds to this day.

    But she''s digressing. What matters is the here and now, and finding an answer to the question: To be or not to be?

    "Here," Miss Cassandra as much as shoves the bikini in Claire''s hands. "Don''t overthink. Just go over there and sashay and show everybody why Gabriel Tan is head over heels about you. Show them the merchandise, Miss Monteverde. Slay! You go, girl!"

    "Alright," Claire says in exasperation.

    "Try it on here now, so I can coach you," Miss Cassandra says.

    "Like, right here, right in front of you?"

    "What''s the matter?" Miss Cassandra says. "We''re both girls. What you have, I also have." She grins.

    That sounds fair. But Claire nevertheless asks for a private moment in a fitting room, so Miss Cassandra points her to a small adjoining room. Claire slips inside and spends the first few minutes staring at her reflection on the full-sized mirror. Yeah, what''s the matter, Claire asks the reflection. Stop being Miss Good Two-Shoes and take your darned clothes off.

    Claire lets her dress slip off her body. Then she holds the little piece of fabric against the room''s light¡ªso fragile and flimsy, and to think this is all that''s going to cover her body¡ªto examine it. Two pieces. One top, one bottom. Jesus. When they say it''s skimpy, they really mean it. Claire looks at her n?k?dness for a moment, then slowly, slips on the bikini. It fits her so nicely, emphasizing her h?ps and¡ªClaire turns around¡ªher bu??. She got her body from her mom, who had sepia pictures to prove it. When she puts on the top, the sight almost takes her breath away¡ªonly two smallish triangles of flimsy fabric have the job of covering her br??sts. It leaves very little to the imagination. But for some reason, Claire feels good, not really embarrassed: what the mirror shows her is a woman she has never seen before, a specimen of youth''s beauty. Any man''s jaws would drop at the sight of her.

    When she slips out the room, even Miss Cassandra is speechless. It takes her a few minutes before muttering, "Holy moly. It''s obvious why you''ve reeled in the CEO of TXCI Industries."

    Claire doesn''t really know how to respond to that, except, "Thank you, Miss Cassandra."

    "You are stunning," Miss Cassandra says. She smiles sweetly.

    "So," Claire says. "Do I walk all the way to the pool wearing only this, or can I at least use a bathrobe?"

    "Oh, sorry. Yes, a bathrobe should be nice."

    Miss Cassandra rifles through a selection of bathrobes and pulls out a pink one. "Here, this would be perfect on you."

    As Miss Cassandra suggested, Claire did indeed sashay like some runway model all the way to the pool area, only it''s not that simple: with the sheer size of the mansion, even the simple instructions of "Take a left, then go all the way to the statue of a n?k?d boy, then turn right, walk down a narrow corridor, take a left, than you''ll find a door that opens finally to a room adjoining the pool area" was not at all easy to follow. Claire finds herself in the wrong room or making the wrong turn quite a few times, until she stumbles into Lucille the maid, who only gladly walks her to the pool area.

    And once she gets there, Claire discovers it isn''t exactly a "little pool party."

    "Darn it," Claire mutters under her breath. Before her is a full-on pool party, with a DJ, a laser light show, and dozens of beautiful people she doesn''t even know. Worse, Gabriel Tan is nowhere to be found.

 Chapter 20 - The Gadfly

    One look and Claire knows this is not her crowd. This is the jet-set/model/fashionista crowd. The men have perfectly sculpted bodies, the women every inch a super model. Or probably this is one big p?rn shoot. Nevertheless, Claire feels immediately small and out of place¡ªwhere does she put herself? Where is Gabriel Tan? There''s not even a familiar soul in sight.

    But like what she did in many social affairs she attended in the past, Claire adopts her time-tested formula: stay with the smaller crowds, with individuals, as possible. Ones who seem most unlikely to scoff at her attempts at socialization. But why is she overthinking? Underneath this fluffy bathrobe are killer curves that can outmatch any of these under-fed, lanky, anorexic bikini babes out here. She has no reason to feel inferior at all. What if she walks to the center of it all, and just drops the bathrobe for her heart-breakingly gorgeous s?xiness to shine in all its glory?

    Maybe later. For now, sidle up to the nearest friendly face: some guy in black trunks sipping some unknown ???ktail, watching it all with that goofy look on his face.

    "Hey," Claire says. "Cool party, isn''t it?"

    The man looks at her and sizes her up. He frowns. "This party can be described in many ways, but ''cool'' isn''t one of them."

    Claire is taken aback¡ªmaybe she had misjudged him. Maybe this is actually some prickly a-hole. "Why not? Any party hosted by Gabriel Tan must be the coolest party in town, don''t you think?"

    "What are you, nine?" He shakes his head. "You are clearly not for this crowd, because you don''t know Gabriel Tan at all. You won''t call him cool. You won''t even like him. The only ones Gabriel can fool are those who''ve read about him in magazines."

    "Really?" Claire is secretly fuming inside, but she keeps her mouth shut. She even smiles. "So what else can you say about Gabriel Tan, the owner of this mansion and host of this ''actually not cool'' party?"

    The man looks at her sideways and slowly shakes his head, as though he''s looking at a new ???kroach species. "Either you''ve been living under a rock these past many years, or you just came from some far-flung country with no access to mass media." The man sips his ???ktail. "Sure, Gabriel is an awful human being, but it doesn''t hurt to be one of his business connections. I''m here for the food and the booze and the women¡ªsorry, you''re not my type¡ªand since I''ve got an invite, why not cash it in? But if you''re asking if Gabriel is someone you''d want to be friends with, then let me tell you: No. Simply because he''s a sociopath. He treats everyone cruelly. He thinks of no one but himself. So he hosts these parties to overcompensate, to announce to the world that he''s fine. In reality, he''s the filthy, spineless, wriggling creature you find rotting at the bottom of a mud pond, making everyone sick with his sheer toxicity. But you''ll be in for a nasty surprise. So if you''re here because your boss sent you to perhaps network with this crowd, then I''m telling you, you''re setting yourself up for heartbreak."

    Claire couldn''t decide if the man''s completely wrong, but to be honest, some of what he said are actually spot-on. But then again, it''s not totally accurate. Gabriel has many faults, but to paint him as this total failure of a human being is really, really taking it too far. So she says, "You seem to know Gabriel all too well. You personally know him? You work with him closely? Do you have business with him."

    "Then consider your interview cancelled," a voice from behind them says.

    It''s Gabriel, wearing blue trunks with a towel draped over his shoulders. Rage in his eyes. "In fact, I''m blacklisting your magazine and all its sister publications from getting any access to any of our events from here on. We don''t want your kind here."

    The man blanches. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Tan, I''m really sorry. I didn''t know you''re here." The man''s voice quakes with every syllable. "Please forgive me, I didn''t mean what I just said."

    "Oh, really?" Gabriel smiles a rather joyless smile. "A sociopath, you say? A filthy, spineless, wriggling creature you find rotting at the bottom of a mud pond, you say? That''s rich coming from the likes of you."

    The man instantly grabs Gabriel''s feet as he begs and profusely apologizes. "Please forgive me, Mr. Tan. Please! I have now seen the error of my ways! Everything I said is a lie! You are the font of wisdom, the foremost leader of the free world¡ª"

    "¡ªthe ''leader of the free world'' is the United States president, you dummy!" Gabriel wriggles out of the man''s grasp. "Now get out of my sight!"

    "Please, Mr. Tan," the man still begs, kissing the ground now. "I beg you! Just give me a minute¡ª"

    "Get out! Out of my sight!" Gabriel is furious now, his face red with rage. "Before I¡ª"

    He doesn''t finish his words¡ªimmediately, the palace guards (yes, that''s what they''re called) are upon the man, dragging him out of the scene.

    Gabriel becomes aware of it, too. He claps his hands. "What''s the hold-up? The party continues, come on!"

    And as if on cue, the music resumes, the thump-thump-thump of the DJ''s beats suddenly energizes the crowd, and everyone resumes conversation.

    Gabriel looks at her. "What''s that you''re wearing?"

    "It''s a bathrobe. Isn''t it obvious?"

    "No," Gabriel says. "Underneath that. Why are you so swaddled with cloth? No one''s gonna steal your merchandise here."

    Claire pouts. "I was looking for you. If we''re a couple, it''s awkward that I''d be standing alone here without you."

    Gabriel makes a small laugh. He''s over the recent sour episode. "I was just right beside the door when you walked in. I had seen your mouth falling open when you saw the party. It''s so easy to impress you."

    "No, it''s not¡ª"

    "¡ªSee, you were so taken in by that man!"

    "Well, I couldn''t stand there and do nothing while he ?ssassinates my character."

    "That''s a big word, ''assassinate''." Claire smiles. "No one can ?ssassinate your character, Gabriel. You are a shining work in progress, but those who do know you know the real you. There''s no need to prove anything to the world at large."

    Gabriel sighs. "That''s easy to say if you don''t have a hundred companies riding on the prestige and integrity of the Gabriel Tan name. My name has a lot to do with my companies'' corporate image. You besmirch my name, it might affect the stock value of dozens of companies, big and small."

    Claire stares at Gabriel''s face and sees earnestness; this man isn''t bluffing. He really believes in what he''s saying. But there''s only a small thing: isn''t Gabriel aware of how people generally regard him as a monster? The receptionist at his very office, Mrs. Gomez, for example. And of course, the very deal he has with her: he wouldn''t make her this extraordinary deal of employment if people¡ªhis previous executive ?ssistants¡ªcould stand him.

    Suddenly, the DJ stops the music and takes the mic. "Let me just acknowledge the presence of one of our esteemed guests, the CEO of Lifestyle Maxx Cosmetics. The only, the only¡ª"

    Both Gabriel and Claire look to the direction of the pool entrance coming from the mansion''s garden. Everyone waits with bated breath.

    "Miss Michelle Alcantara!"

    Everyone oohhs and aahhs when Michelle appears, walking down the edge of the pool in her incredibly s?xy two-piece swimsuit.

    Claire is stunned; when she glances at Gabriel, she sees his mouth slowly falling open as Michelle approaches them.

    Then Michelle faces the crowd, lets the spotlight glorify her voluptuous form, before she dips in the pool and mingles with the jet-set crowd.

    And all the while, Claire stares at the whole spectacle looking like she''s been bitten by a snake: she''s white as sheet, swaddled in that fluffy bathrobe that makes her feel like she''s the ugliest woman on planet Earth.

 Chapter 21 - The Bikini Showdown

    Michelle Alcantara obviously loves being the center of attention. It''s the currency of her life. And she doesn''t even have to work hard for it¡ªprobably born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, Michelle was born in luxury and privilege.

    That''s why as she moves her h?ps to the beats of the DJ at the center of fawning admirers, who ape her every move and sway along with her, Michelle couldn''t help but smile at the thought of completely cramping the style of Gabriel Tan''s supposed fianc¨¦e. She doesn''t buy it, that whole fianc¨¦e thing. She knows Gabriel. She knows this man wouldn''t be able to move on as quickly as that. For ten years Gabriel danced on her palm, at her beck and call, completely smitten. Sure she had been cheating on him countless times, but Michelle could not believe that the one and only time Gabriel found out about her secret trysts two weeks ago would be a total deal breaker: Gabriel is head-over-heels crazy about her. She knows this isn''t true. And Gabriel isn''t the kind of man who would actually like¡ªmore so fall in love with¡ªthat stupid fat cow now standing on the sidelines of the pool. Michelle doesn''t buy it. There''s something about this she couldn''t quite put a finger on. But for the meantime, she''ll enjoy the world''s attention. She''ll swim in all the love. As always, she''ll take what she can get.

    Claire watches Michelle and her entourage in the middle of the meter-deep pool, dancing coquettishly with ???ktails in hand, and she knows Gabriel is silently being destroyed right at this very moment. She looks at the man beside her: Gabriel is watching the scene unfold, but surprisingly, there''s no emotion on his face. As though he''s emotionally detached from this otherwise seductive spectacle. Claire second-guesses what must be going through Gabriel''s mind: all those tender moments he once enjoyed with Michelle¡ªcan he really turn his back on them all? Can''t he really forgive Michelle''s cheating? How hard is it to just throw your hands up in surrender, and announce to the world that, alright, Michelle, you win! I still love you. What I had with Claire is fake, it''s all an act. Can we get back together?

    "Go ahead," Claire mutters after a while.

    "Go ahead what?" Gabriel''s voice is exceptionally calm, given the situation.

    "Go ahead and tell her you want to get back together," Claire says. "There''s no point keeping this up. Look at the lengths she''d go to just to get your attention. That''s a desperate woman. That''s a power move, Gabriel. She''s doing this because she''s not going to give up, she''s not letting what you two had go to waste."

    Gabriel smiles wryly. "She let it all go to waste the moment she cheated on me."

    "Maybe that''s just one moment of weakness. Surely, we all have¡ª"

    "That''s not only once, Claire. I know she had been cheating on me so many times that I''ve I lost count. But you know the stupid thing I did? I actually put up with it, pretended that I didn''t know, acted like everything''s fine in my part of the world."

    "What?" Claire couldn''t believe her ears.

    "Yes," Gabriel mutters. He takes a ???ktail from a passing server and downs it in one go. "I was a fool. But there''s a point you must say stop to all this foolishness."

    Gabriel turns to her and smiles. "Don''t be sorry. There''s nothing to be sorry about. I''m now fine with it. See, I have a new woman who loves me."

    Claire has to laugh at that. "Yeah, a woman who loves you because of a year''s worth of salary you''re paying her."

    Gabriel''s smile dries up. He appears offended. "Yes, I know. People only love me if I pay them to do so."

    "Oh, no," Claire panics. "I didn''t mean it that way. I, uhh, I only meant¡­ I¡­"

    "Don''t worry, I get it." Gabriel grins, but there''s no joy in it. "I understand, Miss Monteverde. This is all an act. Don''t worry, I won''t forget next time. I''m sorry for being such a sentimental prick."

    He takes a bottle of beer from another passing server, and wordlessly downs the entire contents in one go. When he finishes, he''s a little red in the face. "In fact," Gabriel says, slurring slightly, "here''s Phase 2 of our little act."

    "What do you mean?" Claire says, but Gabriel doesn''t answer her. He walks over to the DJ''s booth and talks to the DJ, who of course knows who he is and who gladly gives the reins to him. The music dies. In a moment, Claire sees Gabriel holding a microphone. He taps at it tentatively, producing static feedback that screeches through the night air.

    "May I have your attention, please," Gabriel speaks to the mic. "First of all, thank you for attending this little shindig of mine on short notice. Your presence here is resounding proof that Gabriel Tan¡ªyours truly¡ªhas more friends than he can count on his fingers, contrary to what some people say."

    Laughter erupts. Claire looks at the crowd. Everyone seems to be hanging upon Gabriel''s every word. Michelle at the center of the pool has that bemused look on her face, as though she expects Gabriel to say something in her favor.

    Everyone looks at Michelle, who smiles and throws a "you''re such a loser" glance in Claire''s general direction.

    "But I have to say," Gabriel continues, "that despite her beautiful presence, there is absolutely nothing in the world who can compare with the incredibly, absolutely stunning beauty of my current and now-forever love of my life, the one, the only, the smartest, classiest woman I have ever encountered, please, you know her already, but still give a round of applause to Claire Monteverde!"

    The spotlight turns to Claire, who appears like a deer in headlights. She almost chokes for this sudden attention. Claire looks around and she could see nothing beyond the glare of the floodlight. People clapped their hands, but she knows only because Gabriel told them to clap. These sheep have no minds of their own.

    Claire doesn''t know what to do. She just stands there, stunned, frozen like a statue.

    "Claire is the beauty and brains behind a lot of major projects of TXCI Industries," Gabriel says, fueled by booze. "She speaks twenty languages, three of them acquired from helping indigenous tribes in the far-flung corners of Asia. She''s a dog whisperer, horse whisperer, and all kinds of animals-whisperer. And she has that distinct charm that could only be matched by the world''s loveliest women¡ª"

    Now, at this point, Claire starts to panic. Really panic. She knew Gabriel is somewhat insane, but she never realized he would be THIS crazy. What twenty languages, what major projects of TXCI Industries? She was just hired yesterday, for pete''s sakes! Jesus Henry Christ! At the rate at which Gabriel is mouthing out one incredible bullshit after another, the likelihood that their pretend engagement is going to be unraveled is increasing by the minute.

    Stop, you idiot, she wants to scream at him. But all eyes are on her, and everyone''s staring at the smallest movement she makes. Claire closes her eyes and wishes she''s not here, right now. But when she opens them again, she discovers to her horror that she''s still there, Gabriel''s still at the DJ booth without any sign of stopping his bullshit, and the crowd''s still watching her, waiting for her to make a move.

    "Come on, Claire, show them what you''ve got," Gabriel says.

    "What?" she mouths out in return, because honestly, Claire no longer knows what this man is up to.

    Everybody gasps, even Claire. She tries to see through the glare of the light and catch a glimpse of Michelle, see how she reacted to Gabriel''s words, but she couldn''t.

    "So please, Claire, I offer you this pool party. I hope you truly enjoy this. I apologize for any unwanted person who may be here, but¡ª"

    Claire doesn''t wait for Gabriel to finish. In desperation¡ªor for a complete lack of any other option¡ªClaire does what her instinct tells her to do: she lets her fluffy bathrobe drop to the ground.

    She stands there, in the glare of the spotlight, wearing the red, skimpy, incredibly s?xy two-piece bikini Miss Cassandra had so carefully chosen for her.

    Then she closes her eyes and waits for shit to hit the fan.

 Chapter 22 - The Catfight

    Claire hears the crowd''s initial collective gasp. Followed by a long silence. She knows they''re out there. She knows they''re all staring at her, judging her. But when she opens her eyes, she couldn''t see anything¡ªthe darned floodlight is blinding her and hides everyone else in the darkness.

    The microphone''s static feedback hisses. "Friends," Gabriel says calmly over the mic. "The love of my life. The one I''m going to spend my life with. Claire Monteverde!"

    The crowd, having gotten the say-so from the de-facto alpha of everything around here, roar in applause. Ladies surround Claire, greeting her, giving her a friendly squeeze on the shoulder, telling her how lucky she is. It amazes her¡ªthe previously unreachable jet-set crowd, these supermodel-looking beautiful people, are welcoming her into their fold. This is it. She has arrived. She''s at the pinnacle of life''s awesomeness.

    There''s only one problem: this is all fake.

    Now that Gabriel has so brazenly announced to the world their engagement, with people taking note of her, it''s only a matter of time until one of them penetrates whatever cloak of secrecy Gabriel Tan has put up and discovers that Claire Monteverde is a big impostor.

    So what would happen to her? What happens after a month, when her employment agreement with Gabriel, on account of the Red Contract, finally expires?

    "I am quite speechless," a voice says. Claire looks up to see Michelle, still dripping wet from having just emerged from the pool, but nevertheless a striking beauty still.

    "For someone who''s quite speechless, you''re actually talking," Claire says defiantly.

    "Don''t be too ???ky," Michelle says. "He''ll discard you like yesterday''s news. Gabriel Tan is the most fickle-minded man I know."

    "Really?" Claire says. "He stood by you despite knowing about your cheating¡ª"

    --"You lie!"

    --"I''m not!" From a corner of her eye Claire sees Gabriel approaching them. "Gabriel has always known about your men, yet he put up with it as long as he didn''t personally see it. Until two weeks ago, when you got so careless."

    "There''s only one monster I see here," Claire says coolly. "And she''s right in front of me."

    Rage lights up in Michelle eyes. In an instant, her hand flies, hitting Claire on the side of the face.

    The pain¡ªand the sheer unexpectedness of it¡ªstuns Claire. Nobody has ever hit her before. Nobody. And she would never expect such a thing to be coming from a high-society person like Michelle Alcantara. Instantly, she loses it and retaliates, her hand hitting Michelle on the left cheek.

    "You bitch¡­" Michelle holds her cheek as if it''s about to collapse. "You¡­"

    Now, before we proceed to describing the slapping, hair-pulling, scratching, and bikini-shredding that follow, let''s point out a few things first.

    While this exchange is happening, Gabriel Tan is standing just a few meters from the two women. He stops and admires them from that short distance: he mentally compares the body shapes of the two, admiring their differences, appreciating the fact that these two offer two different worlds. He also realizes, much to his own secret pain, that none of these two are his: Michelle is the irretrievable past, while Claire is just an employee, his fake fianc¨¦e. In a perfect world, these two would actually be fighting over him, two gorgeous, head-strong, incredibly voluptuous women who actually love him to death. But the reality is way sadder than that. And his money¡ªthe salary he offers Claire¡ªcould only achieve so far. So Gabriel stands there, sad and amazed and entertained at the same time.

    Meanwhile, everyone has stopped whatever they''re doing. They''re all watching the two exchange "pleasantries." They know it''s about to get red-hot serious. The Palace guards stand at attention, but will interfere only if Gabriel gets directly involved¡ªat this point, he''s not.

    And DJ Blue, the house DJ, realizes they''re at the cusp of a turning point in history, so he decides to spin the appropriate track for what''s about to happen: Enrique Gil''s "Mobe."

    So hell is unleashed. Michelle couldn''t believe this usurper to her throne could have the gall to actually slap her back, instead of submitting to her will and ???kroaching back to the hole she has come from; naturally, she is burning with rage. She grabs Claire''s hair and pulls it with all her might. But Claire has quick reflexes¡ªshe parries the attack with both her arms while also grabbing Michelle''s long tresses. Both women scream curses at each other. The crowd cheers them on. At some point, Michelle manages to use her weight to push Claire into the pool, but it works against her, too¡ªshe also falls into the water.

    Claire is all poised to follow and attack but a hand grabs her¡ªit''s Gabriel. "Stop it. The show ends here."

    "What?" Claire is still in the thick of emotion. "Let me show that bitch what real pain is."

    "Stop it, will you?" Gabriel says firmly. "Let her go."

    Claire struggles from his grasp, but it''s no use. She hyperventilates, willing herself to calm down, closing her eyes, counting. She opens her eyes and finds Gabriel still holding her, almost in an embrace.

    "Listen," he says. "We have to be ready."

    "For what?"

    Gabriel gazes into her eyes, and in his best Tony Stark-Robert Downey Jr. voice, mutters, "For the shitstorm that will follow."

 Chapter 23 - The Downer

    This is crazy, Claire thinks, as she opens the door to her apartment. One moment, you''re in a posh, incredibly luxurious mansion, the next moment, you''re back to reality¡ªhere in this incredibly average apartment, in this average neighborhood, with people whose concerns never went beyond questions such as "What happened to the wifi?" or "What''s on Netflix tonight?"

    One moment you''re in the seat of power; the next moment, you''re back on the sidelines.

    Ah, life, Claire sighs. What have I gotten myself into?

    If you told her two days ago that she would be serving one of the world''s leading, most famous captains of industry, Claire wouldn''t have believed you. Not in a million years. But now. Everything that happened in the past two days is hard to believe. Her mother would never believe that Claire Monteverde is not engaged to Gabriel Tan¡ªTHE Gabriel Tan. She can see her mother''s face exploding in a million pieces if she tells her. But then again, there''s no reason to¡ªit''s a fake engagement after all. It''s best if this comes and goes without altering so much of her life. At the end of the month, if she can survive all this, she''ll take the money Gabriel pays her, and leave. Simple as that.

    That''s what she keeps telling herself. It''s all simple. It''s all a job. There are tasks she must do, and even the most complicated ones are do-able. Surely, she has done more difficult tasks like the present one. But more and more, she feels it''s not really simple. There are intangible consequences to everything she does, to every task Gabriel ?ssigns her. And wait a minute¡ªwasn''t she supposed to only work as his "personal ?ssistant", his "girl Friday"? What happened, how did it all end up like this¡ªand for only two days? It''s a crazy whirlwind of events and circumstances.

    It''s late morning, so there''s no one in the apartment. Lena must be in the city library or the nearest Starbucks, writing her latest tale of woe. Karen must be with Russell in some out-of-town trip, maybe in some beach enclave, shagging each other''s brains out. While it''s usually men who kiss and tell, but Karen''s an exception: she loves describing to Claire even the smallest details of her s?xcapades, and she doesn''t stop even when Claire flatly tells her to shut it. Karen has no self-awareness, and sometimes it drives Claire to the very brink of sanity. Add Karen''s boyfriend, Russell, to the mix, whose idea of boundaries must be the same as Hitler''s, and you have a truly incendiary situation in the apartment.

    These rare moments of solitude are what Claire enjoys. She can do anything she wants. She doesn''t have to be self-conscious of her behavior, afraid of being judged, even by the two girls whose own life decisions are not exactly good. Now, for example, she drops her bag on the floor and throws herself on the sofa. Her own version of "Netflix and chill" is literally just chilling while binge-watching Netflix. There''s an old romantic comedy, ''Love Actually'', that''s on, so she starts playing it. After a while, she feels the munchies, so she goes to the pantry and rifles through the fridge for some left-over lasagna. But there''s none, so she checks the cupboard, finds a large bag of Dorito''s, and tears it open. She takes a can of Coke, and plants herself right in front of the TV. Ah, this is the life. Not the high-powered, jet-setting lifestyle of the likes of Gabriel Tan, but this: A few moments of alone time in front of the TV, with a can of soda and a big bag of chips. Claire''s doesn''t d?s?r? more. She doesn''t even feel guilty consuming junk food¡ªblessed with an exceptionally fast metabolism, Claire has never piled on the pounds, except in all the bright places, such as the br??sts and the h?ps.

    The Dorito''s is gone just as the movie reaches its cheerful climax. Claire flips through the apps on the smart TV, and runs Spotify. Al Green''s "Let''s Stay Together" starts playing. Claire thinks: I''ve been so stressed out these past few days, why not let my hair down? Totally relax. There''s no one else in the apartment anyway, so who will judge? Claire disappears into the bathroom and comes back in her bra and p?nt??s, with beautifying gel mask on her face and a couple of cucumber slices, which she carefully places on each of her eyes as she lies on the sofa.

    That''s it. Total relaxation. She missed this. These quiet moments of undisturbed peace. Events of the past two days run through her mind. Gabriel Tan, the proposal, the sudden, awkward turn of events when suddenly she had to go to that party. Gabriel didn''t even warn her she''d be playing as his fake fianc¨¦e. She would have strongly opposed that, but it all happened so fast that there was simply no chance to deflect it. As they say, opportunity unfolded, and she only had to rise to the occasion. Or was it? She had yet to know whether her decision to play along Gabriel Tan''s bullshit would be for her own long-term good, or would it burn her and nip her career¡ªif she had any¡ªin the bud. But for now, all those worries are a thousand miles away. She doesn''t even want to think about it. She just wants to lie here, on this sofa, wearing nothing but und?rw??r, with Al Green singing about love and longing and interminable sadness.

    She must have been lying there for a long time. She has lost count of the minutes or hours. But at one point, she became aware of a presence¡ªno, of someone breathing, standing nearby. She senses it even when her eyes are closed. Her arms feel like pins and needles, and yet, she wills them to move and maneuver towards her eyes to remove the cucumber slices covering her eyelids. She slowly opens her eyes and tries to make sense of her surroundings. Things start to pull into focus. She looks up and fear clutches her throat.

    Russell, Karen''s boyfriend, is standing there, watching her, with that half-assed grin on his face.

 Chapter 24 - The Sticky Situation

    "What the hell are you doing here?"

    "I, uhh, I¡­" Russell stammers, yet his eyes are glued to the breathtaking sight before him: his girlfriend''s roommate, Claire, in nothing but skimpy und?rw??r. "I didn''t expect to¡­I was looking for Karen¡­"

    "You should have knocked!"

    "I tried the door and it opened. I thought there was no one here."

    "Three of us live here. You should be wary of our sense of privacy," Claire hisses, then she stomps to the bathroom.

    Russell is left standing there, his face inscrutable. "To be fair," he thinks, "Claire''s got a more smokin'' body than Karen. If only she would dress more¡­provocatively."

    Russell plants himself on the sofa and tries to flick through Netflix, acting as though nothing happened. But in his head and in his groin, there''s a fire burning. Ever since that accident in the bathroom the other night, when he unintentionally saw Claire n?k?d, he couldn''t stop thinking about her. There''s something about Claire''s beauty that only now he appreciates¡ªthe way her eyes light up, her lips pout, when she hears something that interests her. The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The way she licks her lips to moisten them when she''s talking so fast. Claire''s definitely a million times better than Karen, who by all accounts (he knows Karen''s history) is only with him because of his money and reputation. Claire would have been a much better girlfriend, and probably hot in bed, too, although he''s sure Claire''s still a v?r??n as Karen told him once.

    Ever since that night, Russell couldn''t get a moment''s peace of mind. He''d look at Karen, yet his mind wanders¡ªthe scene of Claire''s n?k?dness in the bathroom plays in an endless loop in his head. When he made love with Karen that night, he was actually imagining Claire, m??ning, her hot breath in his ear, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster.

    He has been coming to the apartment even though he knows Karen won''t be there¡ªshe still works as an executive secretary downtown¡ªtrying his luck to bump into Claire and strike a conversation. Some small talk that could hopefully lead to something bigger. Claire is a delight to converse with¡ªshe''s smart, and her sense of humor is almost as sharp as any of his guy friends, so he''s pretty sure they''d get along well. If that happens, maybe he''d dump Karen and ask Claire to live with him. He''s quite sure Claire would jump if he makes an offer, or at least if he asks her out on a date. What''s not to like about him¡ªhe looks like some matinee idol straight out of Hollywood, not to mention he''s incredibly successful¡ªhis internet startup has made him a multimillionaire in his twenties. He can just imagine Claire going crazy about him¡ªonce he makes his intentions known.

    And see how lucky he can be. The past two days yielded nothing. Claire was missing in action, and not even Karen knew her whereabouts. Then out of a hunch, on his way to the gym, he decides to swing by Karen''s apartment, only to find Claire on the sofa, in all her half-naked glory. He''s beginning to think this must be Claire''s subtle way of seducing him. He''s the only man who visits the apartment, so for whom else could Claire be doing all these shenanigans?

    Russell, stretches out on the sofa, humming a tune, still flicking through the offerings on Netflix. Today must really be the day. There''s only the two of them in this apartment. If he must make his move, it should be now. He smiles at the thought, as the excitement sends a shiver of delight down his spine, settling in his pelvis. "Claire will be mine," he thinks.

    Meanwhile, Claire is in the bathroom, cleaning the facial gel off her face, fuming. It had been a vague feeling before, but now she''s completely sure: Russell disgusts her. There''s something sleazy about that man. Maybe the way he splurges product on his hair, or the way he stares at her. But the real deal-breaker has been these couple of embarrassing incidents in which she was always in a compromising situation. Anyone with the smallest amount of decency would knock on the door, right? But not Russell. The man seems to have a knack for sneakily opening doors. If he wasn''t Karen''s boyfriend, she would have called the cops on him.

    She hates him, she decides. The moment Gabriel Tan pays her for her month of suffering in his employ, she''d find a new apartment, one where she would have no roommate. A place she could enjoy all by herself. Not like this, damn it.

    She takes a shower, an intentionally long one. She hopes that by the time she finishes, Russell would have been gone, and she wouldn''t have to say anything to him. She doesn''t want to go out there in the living room and endure his presence. She doesn''t want to hole up in her room, either; she''s done hiding from anybody. She just wants to let her hair down, enjoy some peace.

    The a-hole, Russell, is lying on HER bed, smiling, as if waiting for her!

    "What the hell are you doing here?" Claire''s beet-red in anger. "What are you up to?"

    Russell casually stands up and approaches her, with that silly smile plastered on his face. He gets so close to her she could smell his food-breath.

    "I am leaving Karen," he says.

    "What?"

    "I am leaving Karen," he repeats, unsure if Claire is just being obtuse. "I''m leaving her¡­for you."

    "WHAT?" Now Claire is fuming mad. "What in hell are you talking about?"

    "I am talking about us, Claire," Russell says. "I like you, and I''m sure you like me, too. You don''t have to worry about Karen because¡ª"

    ¡ª"Get out!"

    ¡ª"Get the hell out of my room!" Claire is screaming so hard she''s all red in the face.

    Russell grins for a moment, as if expecting Claire to say something that he likes. But Claire seems unambiguously angry.

    "Didn''t you want this? Didn''t you want us together?"

    "Are you insane? Who told you that?"

    Russell stares at her. "You. You kept telling me that. You kept showing me your body."

    "Are you crazy? How¡ª"

    Russell suddenly grabs her and starts groping her. Claire tries to fight back, using her arms and knees, but there''s no space to give her momentum. In the struggle, Russell tears the towel off her body, and seeing her n?k?dness seems to give him more resolve. He is about to punch her in the stomach but Claire is quick¡ªshe slams her palm on his face, then bolts out of the room. She knows she''s running n?k?d, but there''s white-hot panic in her head and all she cares about is to get away. But as she reaches the living room, something grabs her legs and she falls down. Instantly, Russell is on top of her. "If this is the game you wanna play, then we''ll play," he mutters.

    But a voice booms: "What the hell is this?"

    It''s Karen, and the expression on her face screams bloody murder.

 Chapter 25 - The Aggravation

    "I can''t believe this," Karen mutters. "You, of all people."

    For a moment, Claire thinks Karen''s referring to Russell. She looks around for anything to grab and cover her n?k?dness, but the nearest one is a coffee table book titled, ''Inside Japan''s Penis Festival: In Full-color Pictures''. It actually has a picture of a gigantic p?n?s on the cover. Claire uses it anyway, more to cover herself from Russell''s lecherous gaze than anything. "I''ve never been so glad to see you¡­"

    "I can''t believe you can do this to me," Karen says, staring directly at Claire, her face almost distorted in indescribable hurt. "How could you?"

    "What?" This confuses Claire. "Are you being serious?"

    "I''ve seen you giving my boyfriend ''The Eye'', Claire! You cannot deny this!"

    Claire is dumbfounded. Only now she realizes the magnitude of Karen''s stupidity. "Which part of the struggle you saw indicated anything that was consensual, huh?" Tears begin welling in her eyes.

    "Your stupid goddamn boyfriend tried to **** me!"

    "Oh, no, no, no, no!" Russell bu??s in, laughing nervously. "Me? **** this girl? You''ve gotta be kidding me!"

    "Yeah!" Karen says, her voice quaking. "Why would my boyfriend take any interest in you, Claire? You''ve never had a boyfriend, you don''t know anything about the opposite s?x. And you dress like an old lady. Why, of all people, would Russell even take a second look?"

    "Okay, genius," Claire hisses. "Did you see ME on top of this idiot? No? Because he''s the one who was trying to overpower me. I would''ve thanked you for appearing right in the nick of time, but I realize this is all an exercise in futility."

    Claire storms out and slams her bedroom door shut, leaving Russell and Karen in the wake of this toxic drama.

    Claire is furious¡ªand deeply hurt. She can''t believe Karen would even make such a stupid ?ssumption. It was plain as daylight who was doing what to whom. And for pete''s sakes, it''s not like Russell''s the finest specimen of manhood. He''s just some successful entrepreneur¡ªsure, a bit good-looking, but totally not Claire''s type. And she wouldn''t in a million years seduce a man, especially one who''s currently dating a roommate!

    Claire couldn''t wrap her mind around what happened today. What in hell''s happening with her life? All she wanted was a day away from the aggravation of her days, and yet, fate doesn''t seem to be willing to grant her the smallest of favors.

    She locks her bedroom door, turns off the light, and sulks in her bed. She decides she won''t come out of this room for the next billion years. She hears the two having an argument outside, their voices rising. She could hear some of the words being thrown out in the open, and most of them make her cringe. At one point, Karen''s slamming her fist on Claire''s door. "Get out here, you bitch!"

    Claire grits her teeth but stands her ground. She screams, "Get out of my face, you two idiots! Or I''ll call the cops on you and your rapist boyfriend!"

    She''s always known that Karen is stupid, but only now she realizes Karen is really THAT stupid. And totally living in her own bubble of self-delusion. To witness such an attack and instantly craft a self-denying fantasy that your own roommate is trying to have some savage s?xytime with your boyfriend¡ªisn''t that the very height of stupidity? But really, what''s surprising about it? Karen isn''t exactly known for making good life decisions, so what can anyone expect?

    Nevertheless, Claire is hurt. She''s tired and hurt and sick to her stomach. The over-sized t-shirt she wears feels like flimsy armor against the ravages of the day, and there''s only so much that she can take. Yesterday, she was slugging it out with the CEO of some cosmetics company, Michelle Alcantara, right in the infinity pool of Gabriel Tan''s mansion, then today she was trying to fend off the s?xu?? advances of someone she had thought to be a friend. What kind of life does she lead? Why and how has it all become this complicated?

    In the darkness of her room, Claire tries to make a life-changing decision: what should be her next move? She has to speak with Gabriel, compel him to define the boundaries of her job. She feels she has been somewhat bamboozled into this fake fianc¨¦e role. Doesn''t the Red Contract she has signed describe her job as a personal ?ssistant? So what''s this? Despite the glamor and the action and the fun, this fake engagement should be part of the terms and conditions, and she won''t let someone like Gabriel Tan take advantage of her like that. Gabriel can fool anyone else and make them dance on his palm, but not Claire Monteverde.

    There are knocks on the door. Claire screams, "Go away! I''m just a heartbeat away from calling the cops, Karen. Don''t you test me!"

    "We have to talk," a man''s voice says. It''s eerily familiar.

    "Who''s there?" Claire''s brow knits in confusion.

    "It''s Gabriel."

    Claire flings the door open, her heart pounding. Indeed, it''s Gabriel, and he doesn''t look happy.

    "If you''re going to give me another task today, I''m going to kill myself," she mutters.

    Claire gazes at him, a million questions running through her head. But she''s tired and depressed and finding answers to her questions feels like the last thing she wants at the moment.

    When Gabriel wraps her in his arms (in that totally boss-personal ?ssistant way, her mind insists), she lets go. She just cries. She cries like a baby. She cries as if she isn''t the strongest woman she knows. Because for some reason, regardless of what kind of news or what trick Gabriel has up his sleeve this time, Claire doesn''t care, not at the moment. Because Gabriel Tan, despite his flaws, seems spot-on this time: Indeed, all she needs is a hug.

 Chapter 26 - The Confrontation

    "But wait a minute," Claire suddenly says. "How did you know I''m so emotionally upset right now?"

    "Well, after what happened yesterday at the pool, I''m quite sure you''d have some lingering post-traumatic emotional kinks."

    It dawns on her¡ªGabriel isn''t here because of what just happened with her and Russell. It was just a big coincidence. "Who let you in?"

    "Your roommate," he says.

    "Karen?"

    "Yeah. I think that was her. And the boyfriend."

    Claire''s anger returns swiftly. "Where are they?"

    Gabriel shrugs. "I guess they''re still watching TV."

    Unbelievable. Like nothing happened. "Come on."

    She leads him back to the living room, where they find the couple watching an episode of some reality show.

    "Hi Gabriel," Karen greets him cheerfully. Too cheerful for Claire''s comfort. "I didn''t know you and my good friend Claire here know each other."

    Claire couldn''t hide her scowl if her life depended on it. Karen''s behavior is just too disgusting. "We not only know each other," she says, and in the next moment instantly regrets what comes out of her mouth: "We''re engaged."

    Karen and Russell stare at them, their mouth open, as though a snake has just struck them. Then Karen laughs. "You''re really funny, Claire." To Gabriel: "Claire and I have been very good friends. We know each other''s secrets, even the most embarrassing ones."

    "Really?" Gabriel says, bemused. "Like, what kind of secrets?"

    "Like, well, Claire has never had a boyfriend." Karen flashes Claire the sweetest smile. "But she has a very good sense of humor, so I appreciate the joke about you being engaged." And to prove she really appreciates the joke, Karen actually laughs, Russell along with her.

    Claire decides to stifle her anger and just play along. "Yeah, she''s right. Karen and I are very good friends." She smiles and gazes at her roommate. "We''ve lived together long enough for me to know some of her awesome skills and talent. One of her skills, for example, is her ability to reel in wealthy men¡ªsorry, Russell, although it''s you who should say sorry to me¡ªand her talent to spend men''s money and use them for her own gain. She''s so good, it''s wonderful to watch her work! Right, Karen, my friend?"

    Russell''s gaze ping-pongs from Claire''s face, then to Karen, then back to Claire. He doesn''t seem so sure about what to feel or do. "Honey, what is she saying?"

    "She''s lying," Karen hisses through her teeth. "She''s a big, damn liar!"

    "Oh, I''m sorry," Claire says in mockery. "I guess it isn''t true that every expensive thing Karen is wearing right now was bought for her by you, Russell, right?"

    "Well, I did buy the dress, and the shoes, and the¡­the lingerie she''s wearing¡­"

    "And the ring, the earrings, and all the other jewelry?"

    "Well, yes, I¡­" Russell regards his girlfriend as if in a new light.

    "And the brand new iPhone, the ??ptop, the smart watch?" There''s sharp-edged glee in Claire''s voice.

    "Yeah," Russell says, realizing it all now. "But I did give it all to her. So what''s so wrong with that?"

    "But didn''t she ask you to buy it all for her?"

    "I rest my case, your honor," Claire says, grinning slyly as she turns to Gabriel. "But that doesn''t get you off the hook, Russell. That doesn''t mitigate the fact that you tried to **** me just an hour ago."

    Russell blanches. His face turns white as sheet. "I¡­I didn''t mean to¡­"

    "He what?" Gabriel is instantly incensed. "Did you say ''****''?"

    "Almost," Claire says. "He almost succeeded in doing it."

    In a flash, Gabriel''s hands are upon Russell''s neck. "What did you do to my fianc¨¦e?" He slams a fist against the side of Russell''s face, sending him sprawling to the floor. Karen screams and throws her arms over her boyfriend, protecting him from Gabriel''s ?ssault.

    "I know you, Russell," Gabriel mutters. "I can destroy you, your family, your company."

    "I didn''t mean it, man," Russell stammers, his lip bleeding. "I''m¡­I''m really, really sorry. It happened all too fast. I liked her and¡ª"

    Russell doesn''t finish what he''s saying as Karen hard-slaps him across the face. "You moron! What did you see in this ordinary woman?" That sends the man comically sprawling again to the floor.

    Russell would have answered, "I saw that she''s s?xy and vulnerable and desperate," but he has the good sense to shut it.

    Is he serious? Claire wonders. Or is this Gabriel Tan the bullshit master hard at work again?

    Karen scoffs at that. "You must be seeing things, because I''ve never seen any of those qualities during all the time we''ve been roommates."

    "Oh, that''s so rich coming from you," Gabriel says. "Aren''t you two the very best of friends?"

    Karen says nothing.

    "Anyway, it doesn''t matter. Nothing here doesn''t matter." Gabriel turns to Claire. "I''m taking you to your new place, my love."

    My love. Oh, my God. Why does Gabriel have this tendency to be so cheesy and fake right when you need him to be simply authentic. "My new place?"

    "You can''t live in this apartment, anymore. Protocol. I need to protect you from¡ª" he throws Karen and Russell a glance¡ª"opportunists."

    Shouldn''t we talk first about compensation? Shouldn''t we discuss the changing terms and conditions of my employment? Isn''t this excessively interfering in my life? These and a million questions are dying to come out of Claire''s mouth, but she feels there might be a better moment for it. So all she manages to say is, "Okay."

    As it turns out, everything she owns can fit in four bags. As they walk out of the apartment¡ªKaren and Russell still on the floor, having their silly argument about who did what to whom¡ªthere''s the Bentley again waiting for them. Gabriel is driving. As they roll out of the place, he''s even extra-cheerful, humming a tune that sounds familiar to Claire.

    Gabriel smiles and nods.

    It is a thirty-minute drive to her new place. And of course, Claire is expecting maybe a new apartment, a new condo. But no: he brings her to the former Ilustrados Hotel.

    "I''m not going to live in a hotel room, Gabriel," she says as they stand facing the hotel''s fa?ade. Claire knows Ilustrados is a boutique hotel, catering to business people and celebrities.

    "You''re not living in a room," Gabriel says. "This entire hotel, this whole building, will be your place of residence."

    Claire says nothing at first, then it hits her: she''s living in a ten-story luxury hotel. While being employed as Gabriel Tan''s personal ?ssistant-slash-fake fianc¨¦e. Her throat feels suddenly dry, and the only thing she manages to utter is: "Are you crazy?"

 Chapter 27 - The Holy Shit

    "Come on, Gabriel. Are you shitting me? How do you mean THIS ENTIRE BUILDING?"

    Gabriel keeps a straight face. "I mean exactly that. This entire building is your place of residence."

    "What am I gonna do with a whole building? How do I clean it? Where do I stay? Which room? OH MY GOD."

    "Don''t worry about a thing. Everything is well taken care of. My butler, Lopez, has ?ssigned your head of household. This is where you''ll hold court¡ª"

    --"Hold what?"

    "Hold court. Meetings, I mean."

    "And why would I hold meetings? I''m just your personal ?ssistant!"

    "Oh, that," Gabriel sighs. "We''ll have to talk about the new terms and conditions."

    "Do not do this to me," Claire scowls. "You can''t just change the terms of my employment with you just like that. I need to agree to it."

    "Yes, of course!"

    "And most importantly, I am not one who will be easily impressed by grandeur and luxury or any shiny thing you flash before me!"

    But a moment later, Claire''s jaws drop because everything, indeed, is very impressive¡ªfrom the sheer grandeur and luxury of the former Ilustrados Hotel, to all the shiny things she encounters in the first few steps she makes into her new "home."

    As a boutique hotel, and one that can be considered the "crown jewel" of Gabriel Tan''s TXCI Holdings, Ilustrados is as lavishly appointed as any five-star hotel brand. But there''s one major thing that Claire noticed when she walks into the lobby¡ªthere are no guests.

    They walk into the lobby and there are only a few people there, all of them the staff. The concierge politely greets them, while another so carefully takes her bags and places them neatly on the concierge trolley.

    "Hello," Claire greets them sheepishly, feeling every bit out of place. "How are you today?"

    The concierge smiles but his entire body language seems to convey to Claire the singular message, "My entire family eat on the palm of your hand, so hail thee, Your Royal Highness." That is, if body language could actually speak. Instead, the concierge mutters, "I''m fine, Miss Claire. I''m Dale, your ever-humble servant. And welcome to the Residence!"

    Claire feels weird being addressed in that way¡ªwasn''t it only the other day when she was walking¡ªwalking!¡ªthe four blocks to Leed''s to deposit Gabriel Tan''s soiled clothing because she had no cab fare? Now this person addresses her as though she''s the absolute monarch of some tiny country. And also¡ªwhat "Residence?" "Isn''t this the Ilustrados?"

    Claire looks at Gabriel, who has been standing beside her, silently watching this exchange. "Why?"

    Gabriel shrugs. "You need a house."

    "This isn''t a house!" What am I going to do here?"

    "You don''t have to do anything," Gabriel says. "Just stay here. I want you to feel absolutely at home. Check out the various offerings of the Residence. Then I want you to come to the office later today to discuss our business."

    "You mean, my ongoing tenure as your ''employee''?"

    "If you''d like to put it that way, then yes." Gabriel flashes a rare smile. "Have a good day, Claire."

    The Bentley has long been gone, but Claire is still standing there, in the middle of the hotel-formerly-known-as-the-Ilustrados'' lavishly appointed lobby, unsure of what to think or do. Everything in the past few days is happening at lightning speed, and it''s difficult to catch up. Her life is hitting surreal territory, and sometimes she wonders if she''d wake up at any moment to find that her real life hasn''t changed a bit¡ªthat she''s still the old Claire from the block, with nothing going for her but her wit and the courage to face a broken world.

    The concierge makes a polite grunt to get her attention. "Miss Claire, would you like me to show you your suite?"

    Claire stares at him. "Dale, isn''t it? Well, Dale, can you be absolutely honest with me?"

    "Please tell me," Claire says, "exactly what the hell is going on?"

    Dale the concierge blushes. "Uhh, Ma''am, I''m not sure what to tell you, but because you asked for absolute honesty, then all I know is that the hotel has been repurposed."

    "''Repurposed'', you mean to serve as my place of residence?"

    "Yes, Ma''am."

    "The entire building, as Gabriel said?"

    "Yes, Ma''am."

    "Hmmm," Claire touches her lip with a finger, a smile curving a corner of her lips. "If that''s the case, then Dale, the concierge, there is one thing I want us to do first."

    "And what shall it be, Ma''am?"

    "LET''S PARTY!" Claire screeches like a school girl as she runs towards the waiting elevator.

 Chapter 28 - The House Warming

    If Gabriel Tan''s crazy enough to lend her the whole building, then how about she matches his craziness?

    "If this is really my residence, everyone is at my beck and call, correct?"

    "Yes, Ma''am," Dale says as he opens the door to her suite.

    "And everything I want done, you''ll accomplish?"

    "With the exception of an order that points to the Residence''s self-destruction, then yes, Miss Claire," Dale says. "Say anything, and we''ll gladly do it."

    "Okay," Claire says, a mischievous smile creeping across her face as she takes off her shoes and tosses them on the carpet. "Then my first order is¡­"

    Dale dutifully listens to her request, then he speaks to his earpiece. A moment later, the disco beats of Blondie''s "Heart of Glass" is heard throughout the ten-story hotel.

    Claire lets her hair down as soon as Dale leaves, grooving to the music, her h?ps swaying.

    "Oh, my god!" Claire mutters to herself. "This is amazing."

    She lets the water run, turns on the jetted tub, and pours an entire bottle of bubble bath in the water.

    She lets her clothes drop right then and there, enthralled by the sight of the city before her. The sky is clear and blue, with a few streaks of white¡ªit''s a picture she rarely sees from her former part of the city.

    So this is what you get when you''re rich, or when you can finally afford to buy the best things in life¡ªa sight like this. It''s all so beautiful. So why do most of the rich¡ªlike Michelle Alcantara and Gabriel Tan¡ªsuch grumpy, angry people?

    When she thinks the water''s ready, the foam just right, Claire slips into the Jacuzzi. The delicious sensation is overwhelming¡ªshe never experienced luxury like this before. She never felt so sensually good like this. As a regular human being, all Claire had was a bathroom with four walls around it, and a dingy bathtub. There was no element of p???sur?¡ªit was all practical, as taking a bath was just one of the things you do to ready yourself to face the world every single miserable day of your life.

    But not here. Here, everything is elevated to an art, brought to certain heights of luxury. Claire half-closes her eyes, the warm water ??r?ssing her flesh. If only this could last long. If only she could live like this for the rest of her life. But sadly, all this would end in less than a month. Claire has to keep on reminding herself that there''s a place where she belongs, and it''s not here. This is a fake engagement. Gabriel Tan is an employer, if a little kooky. But a good kind of kooky at times.

    She must have fallen asleep, because when she opens her eyes, the shadows have slightly shifted. She feels good. Must have been a thirty-minute nap or so. She wills her body to move, and it obeys her command so languidly. Not an hour in this suite and already Claire''s own body is clinging to the idea of not having to work your ?ss off to earn a living.

    She stands up and towel-dries her body. She puts on the wardrobe she finds in a dresser, still bearing the "Ilustrados Hotel" logo.

    She walks around, exploring the rest of the suite. She checks the dining table, and discovers a bountiful spread: all kinds of pastries, fruits, with a baked turkey in the middle, its legs jutting upward so invitingly. In the corner of the table, a bottle of champagne sits in ice.

    "If you''re giving all this to me, Mr. Gabriel Tan," Claire mutters, as she dances still to "Heart of Glass" (it has been playing on auto-loop because Dale is such a wonderful concierge), "then I will gladly take it."

    Then she pulls out the remaining turkey leg, and with it in one hand, and the champagne bottle in the other, Claire dances and sways her way back to the suite''s living area.

    "Once I had a love and it was a gas," Claire sings, "soon turned out had a heart of glass."

    She takes a big bite off the turkey leg, washes it down with the champagne, as she sways her h?ps in her bathrobe.

    "Seemed like the real thing, only to find," she sings, a little out of tune. "Mucho mistrust, love''s gone behind¡­"

    "Uhh, Miss Monteverde," a voice says from behind her.

    She turns and sees Gabriel standing at the door. She''s so shocked the champagne bottle slips from her hand.

    "Uhh, I just forgot to tell you," he says, obviously trying not to laugh. "Please swing by Leed''s later and get my clothes?"

    Claire stares dumbly at him, Blondie''s song still playing in the air.

 Chapter 29 - Mr. Wong Cant Make a White

    He could have called. He should have just called. Why would he even do that?

    Claire fumes as she stands in the elevator. She presses the bu??on for ground floor, and like in all luxury hotels that seem to have come from the 19th century, the elevator descends at its leisure. She couldn''t understand what really is on Gabriel Tan''s mind. One moment, you''re his fake fianc¨¦e, sending you to live in this posh tower; the next moment, he''s sending you to that Chinese laundromat again to fetch his clean clothes. Worst, he could have just called up the hotel to tell her that. Why must he appear at the wrongest moment? Why?

    Claire grinds her teeth. She''s embarrassed that Gabriel saw her dancing like an idiot in her bathrobe, munching on a turkey leg like some primitive savage. It didn''t help that the music was really dance-y in the first place. The image of her in that most ridiculous moment must have been burned on Gabriel''s mind. The other half of her mind says, "So what?" He''s not "anything" to you, is he? It''s not like you have a reputation to uphold. If you were, you wouldn''t even agree to this set-up, these terms of employment, this game of charades.

    But the other half couldn''t move on. The elevator doors ding open, and in her mind''s eye the scene replays: Claire dancing to Blondie''s music, in her bathrobe, swaying her h?ps, using the turkey leg like some improvised mic. Ugh!

    Good thing, a limousine is bringing her to Leed''s. Which only adds to her overall confusion¡ªGabriel can just send his butler, Lopez, to get his clothes, right? Why send her over there, in a limousine, of all modes of transport? What is this insanity?

    Inside the limo, the driver offers her a selection of miniature drinks to calm her nerves. "No, thank you," Claire says; she''s done for champagne and all sorts of alcohol for the day. She''s not touching any of that shit for now.

    The limousine stops right in front of Leed''s. The driver even opens the door for her. And she''s thinking, this is getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. Here I am, stepping out of a limo to get my boss''s clean clothes. "I''m a glorified girl Friday, but a girl Friday still," she mutters to herself.

    Mr. Wong greets him as she enters. He''s wearing the same thing, yet this time, he recognizes her and is instantly reverential.

    "Good afternoon, Miss Claire," Mr. Wong says in careful diction. "You''ve come for Mr. Tan''s clothes, I presume?"

    At that, Mr. Wong''s face shatters into a thousand pieces. He freezes in mid-action as he''s about to open a cabinet. "Oh my God, Miss Claire," he begins sobbing. "I am an utter failure. I deserved to be castrated. My own t?st????s deserve to be torn right out of my scrotum and tossed to a pack of hungry donkeys to be eaten. I am a failure! I cannot do this job, anymore! I should die!"

    "Whoa! Hold your horses, Mr. Wong! What do you even mean?"

    "I can''t, Miss Claire, I just can''t!" Mr. Wong sniffles. "Mr. Gabriel Tan''s perfect silken boxers! I could not resurrect it!"

    "How do you mean?" Claire asks, but she already knows the answer.

    Mr. Wong whimpers as he disappears into a back room. Minutes pass by. Claire looks at the wall clock and wonders if she''s still expected to be at Gabriel''s office at this hour. Maybe he needs this particular set of clothes, but she doubts it. She has an inkling Gabriel is making her do these things just for shits and giggles.

    When Mr. Wong returns, he''s delicately holding aloft something in a vacuum-sealed plastic bag: it''s Gabriel''s pair of boxers. "I can''t remove the stain," Mr. Wong mutters in desperation, pointing at the faint remnants of the ink stain from the other day. "It''s there. It''s forever! Mr. Tan''s much-storied silken und?rw??r, which had embraced the hallowed crotches of generations of men in his family, is gone forever! Oh, my God!"

    Claire is unsure whether she should burst out laughing or cringe at Mr. Wong''s theatrics. She doesn''t know how to respond to this. "You mean, you can''t make it white?"

    Instead of answering, Mr. Wong sobs even louder. "I can''t! Oh my God, I just can''t!"

    "Then so be it," Claire simply says. "I will bring this back to Mr. Tan and explain to him the impossibility of resurrecting¡ªerr, I mean, completely removing this ink stain. Don''t worry, Mr. Wong, I''m sure you can still make a white."

    Claire smiles empathetically. "I doubt it. Mr. Tan trusts you so much, he''ll understand this little incident."

    Mr. Wong stares at her for a moment, then wraps his arms around her in a desperate embrace. He sobs even more. Claire wonders what in hell is happening¡ªare all people working for Gabriel Tan love him to the point of insanity?

    "It''s okay, Mr. Wong. It''s okay," she whispers.

    "Thank you," the old man simply says. "I look forward to seeing you once again, Miss Claire. And I promise I won''t disappoint you."

    "I''m sure you won''t," she says.

    On her way to the TXCI tower, Claire remembers Gabriel''s coffee. She makes a quick stop at Starbucks to get it. While waiting, she tries to think of an explanation that would not put her in such a bad light about the ruined boxers. Truly, it was all her fault. But still. Who gets tossed with a pair of soiled boxers straight out of your boss''s crotch right on their first day of work?

    Finally, at the office, she finds Gabriel Tan brooding by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, staring at the city''s skyline.

    "Good afternoon, Gabriel."

    He turns to her. "Oh, you''re here." His shoulder-length hair seems to have been recently treated; it''s shinier and looks even better than Claire''s own hair, for crying out loud! But when she tries to show him the clothes, as she''s ready to begin a lengthy explanation about how the stain came about and why, Gabriel simply tosses the clothes aside and asks the more important question: "Have you brought me coffee? Because we''re about to have a marathon discussion about your job."

    And for her, too: brewed black coffee, without sugar or creamer--to ready herself for any of Gabriel''s bullshit should he make the mistake of serving it.

 Chapter 30 - The Heart-to-Heart Talk

    Claire couldn''t help but stare at Gabriel Tan''s face. He looks exceptionally handsome at this point¡ªdid something change? Remember the first time she had seen him? That was only a few days ago, when she was standing by the revolving doors of the TXCI Tower. And there were a number of moments when she had to remind herself that this man is her boss, no matter what, regardless of the strange circumstances surrounding their business relationship.

    Now, it feels like it was years ago, as though a million things have happened. The moment she said yes to Gabriel''s job offer, her life has turned upside-down.

    "I''m sorry, Claire," Gabriel begins as they sit down on the opposite sides of the conference table, so business-like. "I wasn''t very forthcoming when I made you the job offer. As you realize now, there''s a reason why the salary offer was that generous¡ªbecause it''s not really a simple matter of working for me as a personal ?ssistant."

    "That''s probably the understatement of the year," Claire says. She smiles despite herself.

    "Yeah, and I''m sorry about that," he says. He shuffles through the documents he''s holding. "Here''s a revised version of the Red Contract that Mrs. Gomez made you sign the other day."

    "That looks quite extensive," Claire says, noting how there are now several pages more of the legal document than what she originally signed. "What has been added?"

    "I''ll let you peruse everything before you sign these," he says, "but off the bat, I''ve painstakingly included all the new benefits and perks of your role."

    "And my role being?"

    "Uhh, well¡­ As my fianc¨¦e. And personal ?ssistant."

    Claire couldn''t help but shake her head. "Couldn''t you hire me as just your fake fianc¨¦e? Can we do away with the personal ?ssistant part?"

    "I wish I could do that, Miss Monteverde," he says. Claire notes how Gabriel shifts to formally addressing her whenever he has to insist on certain things. "But I also had to retain your services as my ?ssistant for reasons of privacy. I can''t hire another one without risking blowing our cover, you know."

    Claire nods. That makes sense, she thinks.

    "Now you''ll be living in the Residence throughout the duration of the remaining days of our contract. Everything you need is well taken care of. As I mentioned, the entire building is yours for the mean time."

    "And if I may ask again, why the entire building?"

    "For reasons of privacy, Miss Monteverde," he says and smiles. "I have planned everything out."

    Oh, really? Claire doubts it, but keeps her mouth shut.

    "Now for the personal ?ssistant-related errands I may give you in the coming days, I may need you to use some disguise."

    "How do you mean?"

    "I''ll let Miss Cassandra manage that part for you," he says. "Simply put, you can''t go around town doing errands for me looking exactly as Claire Monteverde, the fianc¨¦e. To be utterly clear, Miss Monteverde, you have dual roles. And for your personal ?ssistant role, may we use the fake name ''Bella''?"

    Claire''s brow knits in confusion. "Sorry, but I''m having a hard time following you."

    Gabriel sighs. He tucks a strand of his shoulder-length hair behind an ear. Claire notes Gabriel''s ear has reddened¡ªis he agitated about this?

    "It''s simple," he continues. "As my fianc¨¦e, your name is Claire. But as my personal ?ssistant, you''ll be called ''Bella''. And you''ll be dressing differently."

    For a moment Claire is speechless. She just gazes at his face, trying to read any hint of him bullshitting her in this discussion. But Gabriel''s eyes seem sincere. "So I''ll have a dual personality?"

    "Yes."

    "And I''m doing all this because?"

    "You''ll be doing this because you''ll be paid handsomely, Miss Monteverde," he says. "And if you''ll read these documents, you''ll find a clause there that describes a hefty bonus upon completion of this job."

    "Really?"

    Gabriel shrugs. "Yes. But don''t take my word for it. I suggest you read it at your own leisure tonight, when you''re resting in your penthouse suite. No rush."

    "Okay," is all Claire manages to say.

    Gabriel solemnly hands her the contract. Claire browses it, but she''s not really reading it. She just wants this moment to last longer. This face-to-face thing alone in this huge conference room, the bustling city laid out before them. She recalls that little moment back in her suite, while she''s in the Jacuzzi, watching the blue sky¡ªit seems when you''re rich, you have an abundance of breathtaking views every single day of your life that you tend to take it all for granted. She glances at him; he''s looking out the glass wall. Is he wondering about the same things as she, about the meaning of it all? Or is he just coldly calculating his next business move?

    "You deserve a little explanation," Gabriel mutters after a while. "Why I''m doing this. Why it''s you I hired. Why the generosity." He takes a deep breath as if to calm his nerves. "Frankly, Miss Monteverde, I had no idea I would make you this offer. When I saw you standing by the entrance of my building, I thought you were just some beautiful face¡ªone of the many faces I''d see and forget as I go about my days."

    OH MY GOD¡ªdid he just say I''m beautiful? Claire is thrilled, but stifles it. She hides it by fake-coughing, grunting, "Yeah, I remember. You were quite rude, back then."

    "Yes, I''m sorry," he says. "But what changed my mind were your credentials. Frankly, I was impressed. You already know what happened with me and Michelle, right? But what many people don''t know is how deeply it affected me. Since discovering what she did to me, I had been living the past few weeks in a sort of limbo. I was terribly hurt. Even now. I orchestrate these devious plans, telling myself over and over that revenge is a dish best served cold, but honestly, even if I succeed in ruining Michelle''s life and driving her crazy, I would never have the satisfaction I imagined. I would never be happy. Revenge is double-edged, Miss Monteverde. That''s also the reason why I''m being very generous in the payment terms of this contract¡ªbecause I know this would take a chunk out of you. You won''t be the same again after all this. But I really hope you''d help me see this through."

    So everything is all about revenge, about appeasing Gabriel Tan''s hurt feelings. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned, Shakespeare once wrote. But it turns out, even men like Gabriel can go stark raving mad over a betrayal. And Claire can understand that¡ªten years going down the drain just like that could really mess you up in the heart and head.

    "Don''t worry, I''ll try my best to be of service," Claire says, trying to appear business-like, as though they''re just strictly concluding a business agreement. "But if you don''t mind me asking, what''s your end game, really?"

    Gabriel says nothing. He gazes at her. He tries to smile but it comes out as a grimace, as though he''s about to cry but captures himself at the last moment. "I don''t really know," he says. "Maybe we''ll cross the bridge when we get there."

    Claire is still thinking about him as she heads back to the Residence, in the backseat of her now-official limo service. She couldn''t help but feel sorry for Gabriel. There he is, in his tower, all powerful and influential. He could easily have hundreds, maybe thousands of women. And yet, he''s just like you and me¡ªhe bleeds like any regular human being. The image of Gabriel Tan looking out the glass wall at the city beyond, with those interminably sad eyes, keeps flashing in her head. Poor Gabriel. If only they met under different circumstances. If only she were not as poor as she is. If only she were in Michelle Alcantara''s shoes, she would never do that to Gabriel. She would give him all the nice things that he deserves. She would be loyal to him. She would love him truly and deeply¡­

    "Hey, Claire," the other half of her brain says. "Did you just freaking mention the word ''LOVE''?"

    No, Claire. Don''t let your emotion get in the way. This is just a job. This should be over in a month. You''ll have a ton of money after this, then you can go away, as far away as you want.

    But then again, almost like a faint ache, like a whisper, Claire feels a twinge of sadness at the thought of finally leaving Gabriel Tan when this is over.

    She sighs. Slowly, it dawns on her the truth of what Gabriel said during the meeting: that doing this job would take a big chunk out of her. She''s changing. Her feelings are changing. And she''s beginning to be afraid of where this all headed.

 Chapter 31 - The New Executive Assistant

    "I''d rather die than be caught wearing that," Claire gasps, as she eyes what Miss Cassandra is holding aloft: a blond wig.

    "This is important," Miss Cassandra says, "unless you want this little cover blown sooner than what the boss means it to last."

    Claire winces. "Don''t we have another option? Something that doesn''t scream for attention?"

    "Well, if you really want to direct attention away from Claire Monteverde, we''ll have to look exactly your opposite. With this wig, and the other parts of my planned ensemble, nobody would suspect Bella Xavier and you are one and the same person!"

    "But what if¡ª"

    "No what ifs, Claire," Miss Cassandra says. "I''m the image expert here. Besides, this is just part of your acting project, remember? This blond wig is not you, so you don''t have to feel anything strongly for or against it. It''s just something you have to do."

    Claire reluctantly takes the wig and tries it on. She thinks she''d look ridiculous, but when she looks in the mirror, the reflection she sees there seems like a totally different person. "Oh my god, I look such a bombshell here!"

    "I know," Miss Cassandra chirps, helping Claire with the wig until it seamlessly fits her head.

    "I look stunning," Claire says. She has to smile despite everything. Because indeed she doesn''t look too bad¡ªthe blond wig falls past her br??sts, and parts on the side, like Angelina Jolie if she were blonde.

    "I''d fall in love with that face," Miss Cassandra says.

    "I doubt it," Claire says. She smiles. "Are you sure I can''t wear something not as attention-grabbing as this one?"

    "I ?ssure you nobody would even pay attention to you. The offices of TXCI Holdings crawl with hotties, and you''d simply fit there, as is our goal. You shouldn''t stand out. You should perfectly blend in."

    "Okay."

    "And to complete today''s outfit, I''ve chosen the perfect combination for you."

    Claire''s jaws drop when Miss Cassandra brings out her outfit for the day.

    Later, Claire gingerly walks the hallways of the TXCI offices. She feels uneasy. Everyone''s staring at her as they see her walk by. As if somebody has painted a target sign on her back. "Not stand out, eh?"she grumbles. "How can I not stand out with this?"

    As she walks by a reflective glass wall, she catches her reflection¡ªand indeed she''s stunning. Her long blond hair, tied to a bun, is perfectly complemented by her deep V-neck white blouse tucked in high-waisted black capri pants. Her cleavage is screaming for attention. Her stiletto pumps are screaming for attention. How can she not stand out?

    "Oh, Bella Xavier!" Mrs. Gomez greets her by the reception, giving her a knowing look. The receptionist is just among a handful of people in Gabriel Tan''s inner circle who knows all about this game.

    "Uhh, good morning, Mrs. Gomez."

    "You''re a bit early for today, but that''s only perfect. You''ll have time to settle in."

    Claire smiles nervously and looks around. People are staring at her, wondering who she is. Her unlikely blond hair is reeling them in. Goddamit, Miss Cassandra, she mutters to herself. "I could have just a slight brunette, or burgundy, or something like ?h?stnut brown. But you really had to turn me into a striking blonde. Now the entire floor has been alerted by my presence!"

    Mrs. Gomez leads her to her cubicle, which is just outside Gabriel Tan''s office on this particular floor.

    "Is he in, yet?" Claire asks.

    "He rarely comes here," Mrs. Gomez says.

    "How do you mean? For whom do I work for, then?"

    Mrs. Gomez shrugs. "I don''t question Mr. Tan''s ways, Clai¡ªI mean, Bella. If he says you''re working for him as his executive ?ssistant, then you''d have to sit outside that office whether or not it''s empty."

    Claire sighs. She doesn''t know where to start. All she thought was if you''re working as an ?ssistant, then you "assist." If Gabriel isn''t around, her role is pointless. "Can I ask you something, Mrs. Gomez?"

    "Sure."

    "Am I in that part of the job where I''m supposed to walk out and not make it past the one month?"

    Mrs. Gomez gives her a quizzical look. "I don''t have answers to such questions, Bella. But maybe, as a silver lining, Mr. Tan might actually come today and you''ll have someone to ''assist''. But for the mean time, feel free to familiarize yourself with the ''lay of the land'', so to speak. Talk to people. Or turn on that big computer, and just start typing."

    Claire winces. "What do I type?"

    "I don''t know. Maybe start writing a journal. A diary. Or you can turn this whole thing into a novel, and call it ''This Crazy Rich Boy'' or something. Totally up to you."

    Claire watches Mrs. Gomez''s figure walk away. Then she slumps into her new office chair. This feels like her first day at school when she was still a kid; she cried when her mom left her to fend for herself. That morning many years ago, she ate her peanut bu??er sandwich with tears streaming down her eyes, feeling like an orphan. She''d learned to be strong and confident in the ensuing years, even excelling in college. But here, she doesn''t really feel comfortable in her fake persona''s skin. She isn''t fully sold on the whole Bella Xavier act, blond wig and fierce outfit and all. She doesn''t know where the next line in her unspoken acting script would be coming. She isn''t sure of what to say, especially to the people here, for fear of saying something that blows her cover. It would have been a different world if she were here as her true self, doing a real job she''s been hired to perform; she''d slay then, as she always did. But here, now, in this dual role of fake fianc¨¦e and fake executive ?ssistant, she feels like drowning.

    "You look like you''re drowning," a man''s voice, deep and sure, comes from behind.

    Claire looks up and sees the guy she had seen a while ago as she arrived in the building. He stood out because he had such an air of confidence that she somehow finds magnetic.

    The man extends his hand. "Jake. Jake Magno."

    Claire''s handshake is reluctant. "Claire¡ªerr, I mean, Bella Xavier. I just started today."

    "I presume you''re Gabriel Tan''s new secretary, yes?"

    Claire nods. "Word travels fast around here."

    "Yeah, especially if somebody as stunning as you are walks in." Jake laughs. "I hope you don''t storm out like the last one."

    "Why? What happened?"

    Jake''s eyes widen. "You mean, you don''t know?"

    What Claire knows is something in the gray area of myth¡ªof previous ?ssistants lasting only a day or two in Gabriel''s employ. But she doesn''t know the dirty details. "I have no idea."

    Jake flashes a winsome smile. "I can regale you with that tale of horror and drama if you''d say yes to one thing."

    "And what would that be?"

    "Will you have dinner with me?"

    Claire says nothing. In her mind, she''s grumbling, "Oh my god, Miss Cassandra. ''Not stand out'', ehh? ''Not grab attention.'' My office chair hasn''t even warmed and here''s some guy already asking me out."

    "Please," Jake says, with those cute eyes. For some reason, Claire finds it hard to resist that deep voice. "There''s a new place that recently opened up a block from here. I promise you won''t regret it."

    Claire mulls the offer. Seriously, what can go wrong? She''s here on a fake persona. Bella Xavier doesn''t really exist, so what she does as Bella Xavier doesn''t have any repercussions to the real life of Claire Monteverde, right? She can be "Bella the Slut," or "Bella the Woman with Loose Morals," the blond bombshell hair notwithstanding, and she can still go home at night and sleep like a baby.

    Or would it?

    "It''s my first day today, Jake," she says finally. "I have a lot of stuff I need to do to catch up. I haven''t even met my boss yet. Maybe some other time?"

    If Jake feels dejected, he doesn''t show it. He smiles. "Sure, Bella. There''s plenty of time. Have a nice morning, then." He turns to leave, then he stops and stares at her closely. "Haven''t I seen you before?"

    "I''m sure you haven''t." Claire laughs nervously.

    "No," Jake says. "I''ve seen you. Gabriel Tan''s party the other night, at the pool. You were there, right?"

    Claire responds to that with a smile, but behind that smile, she really feels like storming out, right here, right now.

 Chapter 32 - The First Poison

    "I''m quite sure I''ve seen you at the pool party," Jake insists.

    For a moment, Claire''s heart stops¡ªis it over? Right on her first day?

    "You were with that group¡ªthat group of hotties from City West Bank!" Jake''s face lights up. "It was you, wasn''t it? Right before Gabriel''s ex-girlfriend showed up?"

    Claire sighs in relief. Close call. "I told you I wasn''t near any of Mr. Tan''s parties, much less any pool party. I just came in today."

    Jake stares at her, still not convinced. "But I was sure I''ve seen that face somewhere."

    She shrugs. "If I earn one buck each time I hear that line from people, I would be a gazillionaire by now." She smiles.

    "Well," Jake mutters, "okay."

    After Jake has walked away, Claire examines her desk for anything she can do. Anything that can allow her to do a semblance of actual work. But there''s not much she can accomplish if she stays sitting at her desk, so she takes a stack of paper, stands up, and surveys the office. Everyone seems busy. It''s late morning, and people seem to be trying to finish whatever they can before lunch.

    Claire walks around. Maybe she can go either to where the copy machine is, or the water cooler. She can eavesdrop on some office gossip, get to understand what may be happening whenever Gabriel isn''t around. She can''t help but grumble whenever she remembers she''s some blonde bimbo here, and therefore, center of attention. That makes spying on her own workmates several magnitudes harder¡ªhow can you blend in if you''re this stunning specimen of the female of the human species, right? But there''s nothing she can do but try, so try it is.

    "Excuse me," she asks the first girl she meets on the corridor, "where do I find the copier?"

    The girl''s face lights up, as if grateful for the question. She smiles, her dental braces laced with pink. "It''s just over there after you take a left at the end of the hallway. There''s a small room. Actually there are three small rooms, the other two are for the mail and¡­ I''m sorry, I tend to talk a lot whenever I''m nervous."

    Claire laughs. "Oh, don''t be nervous. Are you also new here?"

    "Oh, no," Braces says. "Been here three years."

    "Oh." Claire realizes the girl must be older than what she initially thought she''d be. Maybe late twenties, early thirties, but the way the girl dresses up makes her look old. Or old-fashioned. She extends a hand. "I''m Bella, by the way."

    The girl gives a sweaty, weak handshake. "Oh, I know you. You''re Mr. Tan''s latest secretary!"

    Latest. Claire takes note of the word. Not "new," but "latest," like "flavor of the month." "How did you know?" Claire feigns surprise. "Because I just came in today."

    Braces giggles. "Sorry, but everyone was kinda waiting for you. Everyone was looking at you when you came in." Then she adds sheepishly, "You''re very pretty."

    Claire''s heart jumps a little at the compliment¡ªsure, she''s beautiful, as her mom often says. But not at the level of holding an entire office hostage just to stare at her. She doesn''t know whether to thank or curse Miss Cassandra¡ªit''s her fault why she looks this way.

    "And it''s Mary, by the way," the woman says.

    "Nice meeting you, Mary."

    Mary hesitates for a moment. She''s also holding a pile of documents in her arms, but it''s obvious she wants the interaction to last a moment longer. "Actually, Bella, I can bring you to the copy room, if you want."

    "Oh, no, I don''t want to impose. I''m sure I can¡ª"

    "Really, Bella, let me take you. You might enter the wrong room."

    I''m sure entering the wrong room won''t be the end of the world, Claire thinks. But there''s something about Mary''s eagerness that makes her say, "Okay."

    Mary seems so happy to speak with her. "Look, they''re looking at us," she whispers conspiratorially as they walk along the glass-walled corridor. Indeed, people are stopping whatever they''re doing to stare at them. "They''re jealous." Mary giggles.

    "How could that be?"

    "Well, I''m with you. Maybe they think they should be the one with you, not me. You''re Miss Popular at the moment, Bella. And I''m proud that you consider me your friend."

    Wait, that''s quite fast, Claire thinks. She only agreed to letting Mary tag along to the copy room¡ªthat hardly qualifies as actual friendship, doesn''t it? But Claire says nothing. There''s something about Mary she couldn''t quite put a finger on¡ªnothing sinister or bad, just odd. Just sad. Mary seems like a very needy girl. Like she has been so lonely for very long that human companionship feels like the rarest of blessings. And it''s strange to think that one could be or feel lonely in an office that''s filled with people.

    "There," Mary chirps as they arrive at the copy room. "This machine is quite advanced. It can scan, email, copy, print anything including your n?k?d bu??. Not that I tried copying my bu??." Mary laughs nervously. "Sorry, I talk silly nonsense."

    Claire laughs, too. "Thanks, Mary. I guess I can handle this now."

    "Oh, no, let me help you!" Mary is instantly tapping on bu??ons, as if she''s afraid Claire would run out of use for her. "What are you copying? Let me take those."

    Claire looks at the stack of documents she''s holding and realizes they''re garbage print-outs of whoever was previously using her desk, maybe the last secretary. She hesitates for a bit, trying to come up with a believable excuse why she wants these photocopied.

    "''How to poison someone without being detected''," Mary reads the headline of one of Claire''s documents. She laughs and looks weirdly at Claire. "Are you planning to poison somebody?"

    "I, uhh, no, this is just some pet project of mine," Claire stammers.

    "Well, maybe I should also read that. There are people here you''d love to poison." A beat. Then Mary bursts into a big smile. "Kidding!"

    Mary feeds the document into the machine. "How many copies?"

    "Just, uhh, just one. I just need something to bring home."

    Mary wonders about the needlessness of this¡ªthe document is obviously downloaded off the internet, and Bella could easily check it out online. But she keeps it shut; she doesn''t want her new-found friend to feel she''s being questioned.

    Claire, on the other hand, is full of questions. "Do you know Jake Magno?"

    Mary''s eyes widen. "Oh! What happened?"

    "He asked me out for dinner, imagine that," Claire says. "On my first day of work."

    "Jake''s the top sales manager," Mary whispers, "and he''s also quite fast with women. Good thing you said no. I''d stay away from him if I were you."

    "He seems fine, though."

    Mary rolls his eyes. "Jake is just like that, always asking everybody out. He once asked me out, can you believe that? I would have lost my v?r??n?t? had I said yes!"

    Claire almost laughs, but stifles it. "Are you saying you''re still a v?r??n?"

    "Proudly," Mary says.

    "Me, too!" Claire says, and instantly regrets it, because Mary''s eyes go wide.

    "Are you shitting me?" Mary almost squeezes her arms. "A woman as hot as you, a v?r??n?"

    "I, uhhh, well¡­"

    "You don''t have to say that just to make me feel less sorry for myself," Mary says. "There''s nothing wrong about being a v?r??n, or losing one''s v?r??n?t?. It''s just that, for a woman like me, and in a society like this, v?r??n?t? is perhaps the only thing I can offer the right man."

    "No, I''m sorry," Claire says, and changes the subject. "What can you say about Gabriel Tan?"

    "The boss? Oh my God, he''s a hottie! But everyone here knows about what his ex-girlfriend did to him. The cheating, lying bitch! How can any woman do that to a man like the boss?"

    "Yeah, it was too bad."

    "Anyone can fall in love with him," Mary says. "So you better be really careful not to develop any feelings for him."

    "Don''t worry. It''s never a possibility with me."

    "Well, it''s just that you''re working as his executive ?ssistant. You''d have a lot of intimate times together working on projects and what-not. The physical closeness could lead to¡­you know what."

    Claire fake-laughs. "Oh, no, that''s impossible." And maybe because she''s trying to overcompensate and really, really deny the smallest possibility of her ever falling in love with her boss, she even adds, "Because I''m a lesbian!"

    Now, Mary''s face is indescribable; her eyes look like they''re about to pop out of their sockets. "Oh, my God! Are you serious?"

    Claire freezes in panic; she wishes she could take it back and tell Mary she''s just full of shit. But seconds pass by, and soon it''s already awkward to take back whatever she has said. "Uhh, but a special kind of lesbian. A semi-lesbian."

    "Ohhhh, something like a bi-sexual, you mean? Which means you can still like men? Which means there''s still a possibility you might like Gabriel Tan? Have you met him?"

    Claire realizes she''s digging her hole deeper each time she attempts to say a lie. She stares at Mary, who hangs on her every word. Maybe she should just say fu?k it and tell the truth. "I''ve met him, yes. Charming, beautiful man. Every bit a keeper. But I always keep my professional relationships strictly professional, Mary. I don''t think I''d let my relationship with our boss go beyond what''s required of my job." Claire smiles.

    Mary says nothing; she just looks at her, reading her face, trying to weigh Claire''s words against what she knows about the reality in this office. "Well," she says, shrugging. "At the very least, I hope you last more than a few days with him."

    "At the very least, you should have done your job and returned to me," a voice booms behind them.

    "Oh, I''m so sorry, Claudia," Mary says to the woman who has materialized by the door. "I was just helping Mr. Tan''s new secretary with the copy machine."

    The one called Claudia says nothing; she looks Claire up and down, sizing her up. "So you''re the new girl?"

    Claire smiles and attempts to speak, but Claudia cuts her with, "Copy machines work the same way everywhere. You don''t need any help working this one. If you can''t even make a proper copy without wasting the time of my ?ssistant, then I doubt you''d last even a day here."

    "I''m sorry," Mary mutters, hurrying after her boss.

    Claire is left standing there, holding her freshly photocopied "How to poison someone without being detected." Somehow, she feels she might really be tempted to read it¡ªthere are indeed people here you''d want to poison.

 Chapter 33 - The First Ally

    Claire later finds Braces¡ªor Mary¡ªcrying in the ladies'' room.

    "Claudia''s always like that," she sniffles. "Treating me like I''m worse than shit."

    "Then why are you still working for her?" Claire asks, a commiserating hand on Mary''s back. "You don''t deserve to be treated that way."

    "Yeah," Mary says, wiping her tears with the back of her hand now. "I need this job. And besides, when you''re on Claudia''s good side, it feels really good. Claudia has promised me she''ll promote me to manager if I continue doing things for her."

    "Did you ask for a definite timeline of when that would happen?"

    "She just says ''Soon, soon,'' that is, if I continue to perform well as her ?ssistant."

    "How long have you been for working for her?"

    "Three years, give or take a few months."

    Claire frowns. "She''s been taking you for a ride."

    "What do you mean?"

    "She''s just saying she''ll promote you so you will continue giving her your everything," Claire says, washing her hands in the sink. "Something tells me you''re in for a nasty surprise."

    Mary stops sobbing. She stares at Claire in the mirror, her eyes wide. "Oh, my God, you might be right!"

    Claire shrugs. "People are like that, especially in a place like that."

    "How are you able to know that? You look so young. You don''t seem like you''ve been in many corporate offices, do you?"

    "I just know," Claire says, "let''s just leave it at that."

    "No wonder you''ve got the plum job of serving Mr. Tan directly."

    "Oh, Mary, there''s so much you''ve yet to know." Claire smiles. "But for now, what say you to lunch at some swanky place?"

    If Mary''s eyes could pop out of their sockets, they would. "Are you serious? You really want to have lunch with me?"

    "Why? Is that so hard to believe?"

    Mary sniffles even more. "It''s just that, I''m usually alone in everything I do here. Nobody wants to speak with me. Nobody wants to have anything to do with me. I''m at the bottom of everyone, even though I can be considered an ?ssistant manager, but without the official title."

    Claire says nothing. She looks at Mary, weighing her next words. "Well, Mary, your luck may change soon. But let''s take it one step at a time. If Mr. Tan doesn''t appear by twelve noon, then we''ll have a lunch date, alright?"

    Mary beams. "Alright!"

    Back at her desk, Claire starts exploring everything about the office on her computer. She peruses the organizational chart, and discovers that Claudia Santos is a senior manager of partnerships and business development, and her one and only underling is Mary, her ?ssistant of sorts. Something tells her there''s more than meets the eye here. She suspects Mary is probably a savant, a brilliant strategist, but with no social skills. A nerd somebody like Claudia can take advantage of.

    But why does Claire care? Why should she bother if there''s some injustice being committed? She sighs. Because that''s the kind if person she has always been.

    Lunch time comes and no Gabriel Tan in sight. Claire asks Mrs. Gomez if Gabriel usually appears during the lunch break, and the trusty receptionist merely shrugs. "Nobody knows what happens in that head of his," Mrs. Gomez says. "But if he does arrive during lunch break, you have all rights to be NOT at your desk."

    Claire smiles. "Okay."

    She finds Mary in her cubicle typing furiously on her computer.

    "What''s the matter?"

    "She wants me to finish up this report," Mary mutters, her eyes on the screen, her lips pale.

    Claire looks around. "But Claudia''s not here. She''s out for lunch, like everyone else."

    "But I have to get this done before she comes back. I must finish this."

    Claire puts a hand on Mary''s arm. "Stop it, Mary. It doesn''t matter. You need fuel. It''s not ''legal'' to make you stay here while everyone else is out there happily having a bite."

    Upon hearing the word "legal," Mary stops and looks at her. "Are you serious?"

    "You''re smart, Mary. I''m sure you know that."

    Mary sighs. "Yeah, I know. It''s just that¡­ Claudia''s disappointment terrifies me."

    "Don''t worry about that," Claire says. "And we have a lunch date. So get up and let''s get going."

    For a moment, Mary appears conflicted¡ªshould she go or should she stay is the obvious question sitting on her face. But Claire pulls her up, all childlike, and finally Mary relents.

    The strange thing about Bella, in Mary''s eyes, is that how on earth can she afford a limo service?

    On their way to wherever they''re supposed to have lunch, Mary keeps examining every detail of the passenger cabin of the limo, while Claire looks on bemused.

    "Are you rich?" Mary asks at one point.

    Claire laughs, but she remembers to laugh all Bella-like¡ªor however fictitious behavior Bella is supposed to have. "This is not mine, This is all part of my employment package."

    "Oh my God, you''re kidding me!" Mary squeezes Claire in the arm. "How can that be possible? How can all those other ladies before you came walked out just like that, if this is part of the package?"

    "I have no idea," Claire lies. "Maybe I''m just a bit lucky."

    The limo stops in front of a swanky hotel¡ªor at least, a former swanky boutique hotel, before Gabriel Tan''s holdings company bought it.

    "Oh," Mary mutters as she steps out of the limo. "I''m not sure if I can afford to eat here."

    "Oh, that," Claire says. "My treat. Don''t worry."

    "Are you sure?"

    "Well, let''s step inside to be sure."

    Mary''s still apprehensive as they enter The Residence, Claire''s "home." She gingerly steps on the lushly carpeted floor, her eyes darting everywhere, as though trying to commit to memory everything that she sees.

    "This place is so luxurious, Bella," she says at one point. "A lunch here must cost an arm and a leg."

    "Yeah," Claire says. "That is, if we have to pay for anything."

    They enter the main restaurant, which for the time being has been repurposed into the main dining room of The Residence''s sole resident, Claire Monteverde. It''s strange to see an entire fine dining setup that''s meant to cater to only a single person. The wait staff, the renowned chef, everyone in here has a single purpose: to serve Claire.

    Mary has no inkling of that setup. She still thinks Bella here is just some girl lucky enough to have gotten some free ticket or something.

    "Good afternoon, Cla¡ªerr, I mean, Miss Bella," Dale greets them by the threshold. "May I accompany you to your table?"

    "Yes, please," Claire says, a faint smile curving a corner of her lips. She''s inwardly finding all this funny. If only Mary knows.

    As they settle at a corner table, the chef walks over and introduces his special "eight-course meal."

    "Let me take you on a gastronomic journey spanning the European continent," the chef says, with an accent that Claire couldn''t place. "Would you like me to describe the meal, madam? Or would you prefer me to simply surprise you?"

    "Surprise us," Claire says. Mary giggles.

    The chef bows ever so slightly and leaves without further word.

    "Oh, my God, Bella! An eight-course lunch! This is fantastic!"

    Claire also has no idea what the chef will bring out, but she pretends to be quite knowledgeable about the ways of the privileged. "You''ll get quite used to it," she says, and inwardly she cringes at her own fakeness.

    "I''m not sure I will get used to it," Mary chirps, "but I''m excited! This is my first time to have an eight-course meal!"

    Me, too, Claire almost says. But before she could actually say anything, she catches sight of a figure standing in the far lobby of the hotel. The figure seems irritable, her voice spiking as she berates the concierge. Then she begins stomping towards the dining hall.

    "Why in hell can you dine here and I can''t," Claudia yells at them. "I need to talk to whoever manages this place." She notices Mary cowering in her seat. "And you¡ªwhy on earth are you here?"

 Chapter 34 - The Unforgettable Lunch

    If Claire is shocked at Claudia''s behavior, she doesn''t show it. Instead, she stands, graciously smiles, and gives Claudia an air kiss.

    Claudia stands there, unsure of what to do. Then after a moment of hesitation, regathers her angst. "Answer me, you two," she hisses. "How on earth are you able to dine here, like God''s own children, while I, who have been a good patron of this place, is being told to sod off?" Then she turns to Dale, who has been trying to bu?? in. "And don''t you repeat to me that it''s by order of top management! I''m not buying that shit!"

    Claire doesn''t lose her cool. She reaches out for Claudia''s hand and squeezes it, as though they''ve been best friends forever. "Who says you can''t dine here, Claudia? You''re very much welcome to join us."

    Claire gestures to a seat right next to Mary, who has been watching in silent horror as the scene unfolds.

    Claudia hesitates for a moment, her rage drying up. Without a word, she takes the seat indicated, throwing Mary an icy glance.

    Claire tells Dale the all-around concierge to tell the chef to add another diner for the lunch. Dale obsequiously makes a bow, as though Claire owns him heart and soul. As Dale leaves, Claire (as "Bella") says, "I''m glad you could join us for lunch, Claudia."

    "I, uhh," Claudia begins, trying to find the right words. Right now she''s confused: who is this Bella Xavier person, and why does she have this exclusive privilege at her favorite boutique hotel? Isn''t she MERELY an executive ?ssistant, a glorified secretary? Something definitely doesn''t add up. "Uhh, thanks, Bella. But I wonder, really, how you are able to pull this off. Did you inherit this building from some filthy rich uncle?"

    Claire fake-laughs. "Oh no, I just have some special business arrangement with the building''s owner." She smiles. "Let''s just say I have a ''quid pro quo'' sort of thing with him¡ªhe scratches my back, I''ll scratch his."

    Claudia''s¡ªand Mary''s¡ªbrows knit in confusion. What kind of back scratching did it take to get this level of exclusivity?

    "Bella offered to treat me to lunch, and I only happily accepted," Mary chirps, too cheerful for comfort. "And I was surprised, too, really. I didn''t know Bella here, who has just started today, this morning in fact, could be so fabulous." Again, Mary titters, so nervous that her terror boss is now sitting just beside her in what moments before was a blissful lunch date.

    "Hmmm," Claudia groans. "Let''s see what this place still got after they seem to have been shuttered up."

    Claire simply smiles and doesn''t take the bait. A few minutes later, a server arrives, placing a plate for each of them containing a little strange-looking morsel of food. "Ladies," he says, "today''s amuse-bouche is egg custard served straight out of an egg shell. Please enjoy."

    Claire stares longingly at the food¡ªit is the first time she has ever seen such a marvel. She has never ever eaten such a fine thing, being only on her second day at the Residence. Her stomach grumbles aggressively, as though it''s commanding her to gobble up the entire table. Yet, she smiles and theatrically says, "Oh, it''s my favorite! Egg custard! Served in an actual egg shell! I love how the chef makes this, it''s superb!" She scoops it with a tiny teaspoon and takes a cute bite, yet it is enough for the heavenly flavors explode in her mouth.

    Mary giggles. "Oh, my! An actual expensive egg custard!" Aping Claire, she also takes a cute bite, even though the rest of her face says she wants to put the whole thing in her mouth pronto! She closes her eyes in pure p???sur?.

    Claudia frowns. She takes a scoop of her amuse-bouche and, to the chef''s credit, some of the hard edges on her face actually softens as the food touches her tongue.

    The empty shells of the amuse-bouche haven''t turned cold yet when the server reappears, this time bringing something a bit more extravagant: "A plate of foie gras terrine decorated with gold leaf, ladies, for your utmost p???sur?," he says, as he carefully places each plate before them.

    OH MY GOD, Claire''s stomach jumps around in delight. Is this actual gold, like the jewelry, and are they eating it? For reals?

    "Oh my God! Gold leaf!" Mary chirps, grabbing a fork. "I can''t wait to see what comes out of me in the morning!"

    "Shut up, Mary," Claudia snaps, red in the face. "Can''t we have our lunch like civilized people?"

    "I''m sorry, Miss Claudia," Mary mutters, although her other hand is still trying to make little stabs at the terrine.

    Claire sighs. Maybe it''s a mistake to bring Mary here, of all places. Especially now that Claudia''s part of the regrettable equation. Didn''t she just endanger their little cover? What if any of these two realizes who she really is, and what their boss, Gabriel Tan, is up to?

    So many questions. But for the meantime, before them is a morsel of heavenly food. And it''s only the second course.

    About an hour later, just as they savor the last of the chef''s decadent chocolate ganache dessert, Mary and Claudia seem to be still unready to go back to the office¡ªyou can see on their faces how exquisitely sated they are. Mary''s even lightly scratching her belly. Claire tries to stop herself from grinning.

    The chef reappears by their table. "Ladies, did you enjoy the humble meal we served you?"

    "Humble meal?" Mary says. "That''s the understatement of the century. Thank you, chef. After your meal, I think I can die happily now."

    Claudia stares sharply at her, embarrassed. "Sorry, chef. And thank you. That was truly marvelous."

    "Thank you, chef," Claire simply says. She stands up. She can''t wait to be back at the office. She feels the longer Claudia and Mary stay here, the riskier it is. She stews in that realization¡ªhow stupid can she get? Why didn''t she realize that at the start?

    But at the main lobby exit, they bump into someone they didn''t expect: Gabriel Tan, looking dapper and smart in his white suit.

    "Oh, here you are, Claire!"

    Although the sight of Gabriel has instantly turned both Claudia and Mary into fawning little girls, Claudia doesn''t fail to catch the name. "Wait, did you just call her Claire?"

    Gabriel chokes on realizing the mistake. "Uhh, no, I said, ''clear''. It''s very clear now where I can find you at lunch." He sheepishly grins. "So, Bella, how''s your first day?"

    "Shut up, Gabriel! Quit the small talk!" Claire tries to tell Gabriel through her eyes. "I''m already in trouble as it is."

    But Gabriel doesn''t get it. "Did you ladies love the food here?"

    "Oh, Gabriel," Claudia purrs. Claire takes mental note of the familiar way Claudia speaks to her boss. "You know I''ve always loved dining at Ritzi''s. But I think they''re not called by that name, anymore."

    Gabriel shrugs. "Change in management. Maybe we''ll put up a new name." Then to Claire. "I need you to stay. We''ll hold a meeting right here at the Residence."

    It takes Claire a moment to respond. "Okay, uhh, Mr. Tan, sir."

    "Can I join the meeting?" Claudia says, squeezing Gabriel in the arm. "I''d love to present to you a new big partnership I''m on the verge of finalizing."

    Claudia flashes the sweetest smile it could actually solidify into molasses.

    "Present it to me later, at the office," Gabriel says. Then maybe he had too much on his mind, or maybe he isn''t thinking straight, but he takes Claire''s hand like a lover. "Let''s go, Clai¡ªI mean, Bella."

    Claire freezes as she let him lead her: Gabriel''s hand is so soft and warm¡ªand this whole gesture is too revealing. She glances back and there''s Claudia and Mary staring at them, their mouth hanging open, shocked and confused at this seeming closeness between the big boss and her new secretary.

    It''s nothing short of scandalous. And in her heart of hearts, there''s going to be nasty gossip at the office.

    Or worse.

 Chapter 35 - The Impending Doom

    Inside the elevator, alone with Gabriel, Claire''s heart is beating so madly she''s afraid the man beside her could hear all of it. And it''s so confusing: why must she feel this way? It''s only work. It''s only a job. And¡ªas she keeps reminding herself even in her dark moments of honesty¡ªit will end in less than a month. So she must always manage her own expectations. And yet. Here she is. With her boss, her fake fianc¨¦. And he''s still holding her hand.

    "Uhh, Mr. Tan," Claire mutters, the faintest of whispers. "You''re, uhh, you''re¡­still holding my hand."

    "Ohh," he says, and releases it with a jerk, as if he just woke up from a dream. But did she feel a reluctance to let go just right there? "I''m sorry."

    Claire instantly regrets why she had to call him out like that. She could have just let him hold her hand. For as long as he wanted. You stupid girl. Why must you always open your mouth?

    The elevator ascends at its leisure, as though it moves underwater. Claire closes her eyes, wills her heart to calm down, to shut up. And to please clarify what the hell is this about? Why the excitement? But the heart knows what it wants, and right now, it wants to jumps out of her ?h?st, and maybe die right there, on the elevator floor.

    "We''re going to the conference room on the tenth floor," Gabriel says.

    Claire nods in ?ssent.

    Tenth floor. She closes her eyes. Would she want this to last forever, this moment? Then the elevator sways, and ever so faintly, gently, her arm brushes against his, and this time, she lets it like that. She lets him feel it. If that matters.

    "Did you enjoy your lunch?"

    Claire nods.

    Her eyes are closed but she knows he''s looking at her, smiling.

    "Why are you so quiet today? Are you sleepy?"

    Claire nods. And opens her eyes. "Yes, I feel a little¡­lazy. What''s the meeting about?"

    Gabriel says nothing. He looks at the floor number. Claire waits¡ªshe feels something would happen now, anything¡ªbut when the elevator doors finally slide open, her hopes¡ªor whatever ridiculous thing she''s feeling¡ªsubsides. They emerge out on the sunlit landing all business-like, as though that moment inside the elevator never happened. They''re walking toward the conference room, and Claire wonders: was that true? Was that moment really true? Or did she simply imagine it?

    Gabriel Tan opens the door to the conference room, which is the room right next to Claire''s suite. It''s lavishly furnishes, and again with that expansive floor-to-ceiling wall that either gave you direct views of the city or front row seat to whatever cataclysm could befall on mankind¡ªbut why is she thinking like this?

    Like in a previous meeting a few days ago, they sit on the opposite sides of the long table, Gabriel looking crisp and powerful in his suit. He looks even prettier than Claire, with his long-ish hair that ever-so-slightly touches his shoulder, the way some strands are neatly tucked behind an ear. The way he looks at you from the other side of the table like a tame puppy, even though they both know what kind of claws he''s hiding. He looks like he can easily have a million Claires at the flick of his finger. But not this Claire, she thinks, if it comes down to it.

    "Uhh, Claire," he begins. "I have some sort of a big problem."

    Her eyebrows rise. "Really?"

    "My mother is coming to town. She wants to meet you."

    There''s a lump that lodges in her throat. "What?"

    "My mother," he repeats. "She wants to¡ª"

    --"I know about your mother. But why does she want to meet me?"

    A beat, as Gabriel looks at her. "She wants to meet my fianc¨¦e."

    Jesus Henry Christ! "Are you even serious? You know this is pretend, right? How can you even dare lie to your mother?"

    "I can''t¡­I know that, but my mother bats for the other team."

    "She likes Michelle for you?"

    Gabriel says nothing at first. He just gazes at her. Ten million years later, he mutters, "''Like'' is an understatement. She''s obsessed about the idea of me marrying Michelle and producing twelve babies with her."

    It''s now Claire''s turn to be speechless. Her mouth hangs open, unsure of what to say. She looks out the glass wall, as always, maybe to read on the sky whatever message Fate has for her. But sadly, there''s nothing there but an endless blue.

    "Two weeks ago, having babies with Michelle would have been totally fine by me," he says. "But now, I find the idea repugnant and disgusting. My love for her has been replaced with outrage. But my mother does not¡ªwould not¡ªacknowledge that. ''Forgive her, she''s one in a billion'', she says. ''She''s the most beautiful, smartest woman on this planet'', she says. I don''t know what Michelle has fed her, but she''s always been like that for the longest time. And it''s a total mystery because my mother is a cunning, vicious, bullshit-hating woman, and she''s obsessed with Michelle who is full of shit. She doesn''t acknowledge what Michelle has done. She thinks it was just a phase, like something Michelle would get over with and move on. She doesn''t seem to appreciate the fact that once trust is shattered, it can never be rebuilt."

    "I don''t disagree with that," she says. "But are you sure you want me to lie to your mother?"

    "I have no choice," Gabriel says. "At least for now."

    There are a million things she wants to say, but they all lodge in her throat.

    "Just so you know, she doesn''t know that I have purchased this hotel for you, unless she actually peruses the books, which she never does."

    "Well that''s nice to hear," she says, and Gabriel winces as he realizes the sarcasm.

    "Well, you''re paid," he says, coldly. "This is part of your job."

    I know that, she thinks. You don''t have to remind me all the freaking time. "But what about a little reality check? What happens when my job is done and we''d have to go our separate ways? How do you break the news of your big lie to your very own mom? How do you face the music, Gabriel, now that you''re taking this little ruse to elaborate levels?" Claire sighs. "How do you tell the world it was all a big shitty acting production?"

    "Let''s cross the bridge," Gabriel says, "when we get there."

    They fall silent for a while, as though they''ve exhausted all the words they can throw on the bonfire of this unraveling tragedy. It all seemed so innocent just a few days ago. It all seemed fun. Now, it''s unraveling. Claire''s biggest fear, if she''s really honest, is what she''ll do when she gets used to this? This privilege, this attention, perhaps, even this fake love? Because truth be told, it''s hard NOT to love Gabriel Tan. She''s every girl''s dream. She''ll readily admit she agreed to this set-up because she''s attracted to him, while still having enough sense to remind herself time and again that keep your distance, stay sane, don''t get dragged into his world of delicious make-believe.

    Let''s cross the bridge when we get there, indeed.

    "So when do we expect your mother to arrive?" she says after a long silence.

    Gabriel makes a face that says something between "there''s an angry bee up my bu??" and "I want to take a shit the size of my leg." "That''s the big problem," he says. "She''s arriving tomorrow night."

 Chapter 36 - The Crazy Afternoon

    Back at the office, as soon as Gabriel steps into his room, his mood suddenly changes.

    "Didn''t I tell you to call me up if you''re gonna be late?" He yells, loud enough for everyone to hear.

    Claire is stumped¡ªshe couldn''t tell if he''s bluffing or what. Is this an act?

    "What?" Gabriel says, irritably, his eyes red with anger. "Are you just standing there like a tree stump? Did I hire you just to be a stupid blonde bitch?"

    That''s it. This isn''t an act. "I''m sorry, Mr. Tan," he says, also loud enough for everyone to hear outside the room. "But don''t you remember you sent me to check out a jewelry store for a ring to give to your new fianc¨¦e?" If this is a pretend game, she''s not going to let him outsmart her.

    "My new fianc¨¦e?" Rage quivers on Gabriel''s face. "Who told you anything about my fianc¨¦e, you bitch!" He grabs a nearby mug and smashes it against the wall. Not contented, he grabs the vase on the coffee table and throws it with such force out the door, that the vase goes straight down the hall and explodes as it hits furniture.

    Every employee on the floor cowers behind their cubicle. Gabriel Tan is really back in form. May God have mercy on the new executive ?ssistant''s soul!

    "But sir, you really did send me!" Claire''s voice quakes, as if she''s about to cry.

    "Shut up! Your first day, and already you''re full of shit!"

    Gabriel Tan then slams his office''s door shut.

    "I guess now Claudia and Mary''s earlier speculation about the two of us would be wiped out by that performance, don''t you think?" He says as soon as they''re unseen, with that mischievous smirk on his pretty face.

    "I guess so," Claire says, breathing a sigh of relief. "That thing with the vase was a bit overkill, though."

    "That''s necessary, Claire," he says as he drops on his big swivel chair and puts his feet up on the desk. "Strike fear in their hearts, that''s what I always say."

    So that''s your little management style, Claire thinks. She wonders what Mary''s thinking now after seeing this performance. And Claudia. Would they have bought up this show?

    "So what now?"

    He shrugs. "Wait and see. Why don''t you sit down while we wait?"

    She really feels a bit awkward about this whole situation, yet gingerly Claire sits down on the sofa. She feels like she''s being interviewed again. More and more, she''s finding her feelings so confusing¡ªto be so near Gabriel Tan, and yet to feel so far.

    The phone rings, and Gabriel answers it. He begins talking animatedly as he discusses the finer points of an impending merger. Claire tries not to listen to the conversation, but it''s impossible not to. She''s a captive audience here. The minutes tick by. And when she feels she''s waited long enough, she signals to Gabriel that she''s going out. Gabriel nods, still on the phone, his mind elsewhere, not here, not with Claire.

    At the end of the day, I''m just an employee, Claire thinks as she sits down at her desk and starts pretending to work. She catches furtive glances from people. Looks of pity. Looks of people who are witnessing tragedy unfold, is what they think.

    She taps on the keyboard, pretending to type some business letter. Anything to complete the act. What they see is some blonde secretary who''s still trying to work despite the aggravation of a brutal boss. Maybe she should start whimpering, too? She pulls out a Kleenex and wipes a corner of an eye, as though she''s trying her best not to cry. Genius.

    AND THE ACADEMY AWARD FOR BEST ACTRESS GOES TO¡­

    "Nasty, isn''t he?"

    She looks up and Jake Magno''s there, looking every inch a gentleman out to save a damsel in distress.

    "What did you do to deserve flying vases and coffee mugs? Did you screw it up big time?"

    Claire sniffles. "All I did was follow orders," she mutters through her nose. "I''m not sure I can survive another day here."

    "Oh, no, don''t be like that," Jake says. "It''s a small matter. You can get used to it. At least he didn''t throw the vase AT YOU."

    "Is it wise to wait for him to start doing that?"

    Jake shakes his head. "He''s never done that."

    "But still," she says. "The emotional aggravation, the torture. No wonder everyone who had come before me lasted only a day or two."

    "Three days was the longest," Jake offers. "But, uhh, you know, if you really wanna quit, maybe you can reconsider my offer."

    Claire''s brow knits in confusion. "What offer?"

    "You know," Jake says, looking around as if afraid somebody overhears him. "Uhh, remember earlier I offered dinner? May I reiterate that? We can talk about these things over a nice steak and wine, you know."

    Jake Magno''s a snake, Mary had mentioned at the copy room earlier. A womanizer who uses his charms and the clout that comes with his stellar performance as a sales manager to seduce unwitting newbies. Mary''s words echo in Claire''s head as she stares at Jake''s mouth saying the words, "Would love to talk with you about everything under the sun, see where the night takes us." Jake flashes what he probably thinks is his killer smile.

    "Let me think about that," Claire says, not really intending to think about it.

    Jake makes a face of frustration. "Come on, Bella. Let me tell you a secret." He actually stoops down so he can whisper in her ear. "I''m sick. I only have three days to live. All I want is a nice dinner with a nice woman before I won''t be able to do anything but lie on my death bed."

    Claire stares at him. She''s heard a lot of bullshit in her life, but the stuff that comes out of Jake Magno''s mouth is truly A-grade bullshittery. The man''s a true bullshit artist. No wonder he''s moved a lot of product.

    Jake makes a wan smile, like he''s actually kind-hearted or something. "Come on," he says. "Make a dying man happy."

    Of course, Claire''s not buying this, not even a bit, but something about Jake makes her think twice: what if she accepts, wouldn''t that be an additional ruse to redirect attention away from Gabriel and her? People like Claudia and Mary would utterly abandon their speculation about what they''d seen at the Residence earlier, or whatever dirty conclusions they''d derived when Gabriel Tan took her by the hand.

    "Come on," Jake insists. "Don''t say no, please."

    "Okay," she says. "Okay, let''s try that."

    The effect of her response on Jake''s face is instantaneous and indescribable; he actually licks his lips in anticipation of a night with her. "Jesus, that''s my girl!"

    "Just dinner, okay? Not late night."

    "Sure," he says. He''s heard that line before from a lot of girls. It means no possibility of after-dinner s?x. But it''s also just a fa?ade¡ªalways they say yes, always they relent after a glass or two of wine. "Just dinner" easily becomes "Oh, God, yes! Yes! Yes!" in his bed a few hours later. And Bella seems easy.

    "Just dinner," Jake reassures with a smirk on his face. "Let''s go straight there after office, yes?"

    "Sure," Claire says.

    "Then it''s a date!" Jake excitedly grabs her in a quick embrace¡ªClaire could swear he ran his hand on her bu??¡ªthen struts away like he''d just won a million dollars.

    Just dinner, Claire tells herself. No monkey business.

    Dinner and more, Jake Magno hopes, emphasis on the "more" part. He slips into the men''s room and checks his wallet if he still has his ribbed ??nd?ms there. He will be using his little rubbery "friends" later, he thinks, come hell or high water. He''ll have a fun night with Bella Xavier, bombshell extraordinaire, she just doesn''t know it yet.

 Chapter 37 - The Dinner of Contention

    Claire had intended to be at the restaurant at least 10 minutes before the agreed time, yet Jake''s already there, sitting patiently like a tame puppy, waiting for her.

    The restaurant is called Fastidio''s, and of course, Claire had never heard of it before¡ªhow would she? She''s never eaten at any of these expensive steakhouses in the city. Yet, she''s ready, too¡ªif the dinner turns sour, she could pay her share and leave, so Jake Magno wouldn''t have any reason to bad mouth her at the office about being such a bitch. Paying for her share of the dinner, as the Dutch do, would take a bit out of Jake''s sense of machismo and might somehow put him in his place.

    "You''re ravishing," Jake says as he stands up and pulls out a seat for her, like a true gentleman.

    Claire smiles at the compliment. She knows the like of Jake too well. Somehow, the phrase "Jake the Snake" keepings flashing in her mind, not only because it rhymes, but also because it''s uncannily appropriate.

    "Have you dined at this place before?" Jake says, looking dapper in his black suite. To be fair, the guy looks good.

    "Not really," she says. "I''ve never gravitated towards anything swanky such as this. I''d usually stuff my face with cheap unhealthy food."

    Jake laughs. "I like your sense of humor. Which means you don''t take yourself too seriously. I like that in a woman."

    "Why''s that?"

    "Well, I''ve dated a few girls and it''s mostly a huge turn-off for me when the girl is only too aware of how gorgeous she is, so she acts all fake and pretentious. So unlike you. You''re pretty, but you talk and act like you don''t know you''re pretty."

    Oh, my God, he has started to turn on the legendary Jake Magno charm, Claire thinks.

    "So what would you like, for starters?" Jake asks as the waiter appears.

    "Just the salad."

    "Really?"

    "Yeah," Claire says, looking around. The restaurant is just right¡ªnot too many people, but enough to create a lively ambiance. If she were honest, she''d like a slab of that meat, though. But she''s wary about what Jake might think¡ªafter all, she''s here on a mission.

    "You should really try the New York Strip," Jake says. "It''s heaven on the tongue."

    "I''m sure it''s heavenly, but I''m not really too keen on having some heavy dinner tonight, Jake," she says. "I have an early meeting tomorrow."

    "Okay," Jake mutters, then to the waiter. "A New York Strip for me and a glass of your house red. And a salad for the lady. Maybe pair it with a glass of Riesling, please."

    Suave, Claire thinks. She doesn''t even know what a Riesling is, but it sounds just right for the salad.

    "So," Jake says. "What''s a beautiful blonde bombshell doing in the office of TXCI Industries, working for the most evil boss in the world?"

    "For money, like everyone else," Claire says without batting an eye. "And he''s not totally evil, you know."

    Jake''s eyes go round. "Really? You''d say that about him despite the little tantrum he threw this afternoon?"

    She shrugs. "Was having a bad day, and I guess it''s a secretary''s lot to at least bear the brunt of it."

    "That''s not fair, if you''d ask me."

    No one''s asking you, she thinks. "To be fair, I think sometimes Gabriel only needs to diffuse his anger. He has too much on his head."

    "Yeah," Jake agrees. "And on his heart, too. I''m sure you already know about the fianc¨¦e who cheated on him."

    Claire feigns ignorance. "What do you mean?"

    Jake makes a face. "I''m surprised you don''t know. Does the name Michelle Alcantara ring a bell?"

    Claire''s brow knits in confusion. Or so what she hopes he''d think. "I''m not really into reading the society pages on the newspaper."

    Jake makes a big production of showing his frustration. "Michelle is, for want of a better word, an idiot. Imagine doing something like that to someone like Gabriel? You''ve gotta be totally demented to sleep around when you''re supposed to marry one of the world''s most eligible bachelors."

    "Oh."

    "But on the bright side," Jake says, "Gabriel has a new fianc¨¦e."

    This piques Claire''s interest. "Really?"

    "Yeah. I hear she''s quite a stunner, too."

    "I''m sure no one can hold a light to Michelle Alcantara''s beauty."

    "Maybe," he says. "But I hear Michelle''s a tacky little blow-hard next to this new fianc¨¦e. And it''s crazy because it has only been a couple of weeks, and already he has a new fianc¨¦e. Doesn''t that sound too fishy, too contrived for you?"

    She shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe because there are so many women waiting for Gabriel''s attention that all he needs to do is snap a finger."

    Jake stares at her, his eyes running down to her cleavage, which at the moment shows milky white and promising. Jake wets his lips unconsciously, seemingly unaware that she''s seeing it all, this lecherous behavior. "Oh, to be like Gabriel Tan and have a multitude of options," he says. "What I would give to be like him."

    "Come on," she says. "To each his own. You have your own charms. I hear you''ve had quite a string of conquests yourself."

    Jake''s eyes go wide at that. "How do you mean? Who said that?"

    "A little birdie told me."

    "Come on, who said that?" Jake''s half-smile belies his sudden paranoia. Who could be the office tattle-tale who threw dirt on him? "Was it Agnes of HR? Or Mrs. Gomez the receptionist? Or¡­"

    "It was no one," she says. "I passed by the water cooler and overheard your name mentioned in a context that¡ªlet''s just say¡ªmay be a bit too revealing about your s?xu?? behavior."

    "It''s all bullshit," Jake says. "You know how it is in these places. You go on a date once with somebody, and that gets incredibly skewed. They begin painting you as this s?x-obsessed gigolo who''s out for any puss? out there, pardon my language."

    Claire laughs. "You''re right."

    The food arrives and fills the air with savory fragrance. Upon seeing the steak on Jake''s plate, juxtaposed with the salad for her, Claire secretly regrets her choice. Her first chance to eat at a good steakhouse, and this is what she gets.

    Jake animatedly talks as he deftly cuts his steak into manageable bite-sized morsels. "You can still order steak if you want."

    Claire stops and thinks about it. "Nah, I''ll stick with the salad."

    Jake couldn''t stop telling his stories. Apparently, he''s been with the company for five years now, and in the past three or so years have been the top sales manager.

    "What about you?" Jake asks at length. "How long have you been working? What else have you seen? Any dirty secret?" He snickers.

    "I have nothing much to tell," she says. For a second, Claire thinks about what to divulge to Jake; she decides to keep it simple and dismissive. "First job. The offered pay was stellar. I was warned about the boss, but I looked at the pay and said, let''s do this. So here I am."

    "Any boyfriend waiting for you at home?"

    "Would I be here with you if I have one?"

    Jake''s eyes lit up. "Unbelievable. Somebody as attractive as you, and nobody has captured you yet?"

    "Maybe the world is looking for somebody else." She smiles.

    "I say bullshit to that. I think you have such a high standard. Or maybe somebody broke your heart years ago, and even now no one could match how that guy made you feel."

    "Or maybe," Jake says, intrigued by her silence. "You actually like other girls. Are you a lesbian?"

    She has to laugh at that. "Hell, no!"

    "Well, I''m running out of speculations."

    "And I''m running out of bladder space," she says, standing up. "Excuse me, but I''ll have to go to the ladies'' room."

    After she left, Jake looks at her glass of wine. He looks around, and when he''s certain that the coast is clear, he takes out a small glass vial filled with white powder. He uncaps it, and deftly pours all its contents into Claire''s glass. The powder fizzles out and is completely undetectable in just a few seconds.

    Jake breathes a sigh of relief. What he feels now is a heady mixture of anticipation and excitement. Their table is right next to the exit door; he could do what he has planned without causing much commotion.

    Jake slices another morsel of meat and leisurely chews it; he feels all the juices and blood oozing in his mouth, indulging in the taste and texture of it. Fastidio''s is such an expensive steak place, but if all goes as he has planned, then the investment is all worth it. Tonight, Bella Xavier will be squirming in his bed.

 Chapter 38 - Jake Magno and the Kingdom of his

    When Claire finally reappears, Jake couldn''t help but gawk at the sight of her.

    "Did you do something in the ladies'' room? You look even lovelier."

    This time, despite her own misgivings, Claire blushes. "Thank you," she says. "But flattery doesn''t work on me."

    "It''s true," he insists. "You''re utterly hot."

    "Oh, stop it."

    Claire stares at her food, as though finding something strange.

    "What is it?" Jake gulps. Did she notice?

    "Uhh, my salad," she says. "Did anyone touch it?"

    Jake fake-laughs. "Oh, no, no. I''d never let anyone touch that. I was just here. Not even the waiter came."

    Claire looks at him. "Are you sure?"

    "Yeah."

    She tentatively stabs her salad with a fork, and tries a lettuce. "Too much oil," she says. She smiles. "But tastes fine."

    Jake breathes a sigh of relief. He eyes Claire''s glass of wine, as though fearing it would start talking about what he did.

    "I''d like to know," Claire says, "what really made you to ask me out?"

    "I don''t know. Maybe it''s your striking personality that compelled me to pop the question." He grins.

    "Really? You can see a person''s personality at first sight?" She places her fork on her plate as though she''s done eating. "But come on, Jake. What was it that you first saw in me?"

    Jake hesitates. Of course, he would never tell the truth. Like any other man, the first thing that caught his attention was Bella Xavier''s incredible curves. She''s wearing this wonderful number, for Christ''s sakes, that compelled him to imagine how Bella must look n?k?d! It emphasized her cleavage, which from the looks of it were genuine, not fake. And he''s not sure, but there''s something about Bella''s face that seems so sensual. Is it that cute mole on her right cheekbone? Those inviting lips that resemble a bird in flight? Or is it the way her blond hair complements the overall package, like some wonderful cherry on top of a gorgeous tall glass of strawberry ice cream?

    Jake isn''t sure what to say to her. All he knows is he''s terribly attracted to this girl¡ªto the extent he has immediately unleashed the secret Jake Magno treatment: the white powder that would knock her out if she ever makes the mistake of drinking that wine. And drink, she will.

    "I don''t know," he mutters at length. "Maybe your eyes. You''ve got very beautiful eyes. They''re so expressive. I feel like I could get lost in them."

    Claire cringes. "Oh, my God! That''s not only corny. It''s cornichon!"

    He laughs. "What can I do? That''s the truth."

    Claire holds the glass of wine, and she appears to take a sip. Seeing it, Jake almost forgets to breathe.

    But she stops and holds the glass in the air, examining it. "So this is a Riesling, isn''t it? I''ve never had a glass of this kind of wine before."

    "Well, uhh, that''s perfect to pair for your salad."

    "Oh, you know a lot about wines, don''t you?"

    He shrugs. "I know just enough for certain purposes." Such as for the purpose of raping people, his mind darkly thinks. "Like this, being on a date with a gorgeous woman. It helps that I know which wine to pair with what my date orders. That takes off the pressure from her, so she can focus and enjoy the dinner, and not worry about anything else."

    "Do you know that telling a gorgeous woman she''s gorgeous is the most surefire way to bore to death said woman?"

    "Well, that''s only true if said gorgeous woman already knows how gorgeous she is, if she has lived her life getting all the attention for her looks." Jake forks a piece of steak. "But you''re not that kind of woman, are you, Bella? You don''t know you''re gorgeous, that''s why you behave like an ordinary girl."

    Claire says nothing. She stares into the wine, as if trying to divine the future from the clear liquid.

    "Am I correct?" Jake says. "You''re a late bloomer, aren''t you? Let me guess. You were tomboyish in your teens, or maybe big-boned. You really didn''t develop all these charms that now take my breath away until your late teens. Maybe in college. But by then everything''s awkward for you. You''re not used to getting the attention, so you dismiss it. Maybe you''re even annoyed by it. Sometimes you feel it''s all a joke, that you''re suddenly pretty. That''s why, too, the absence of a boyfriend. You''ve had your doors closed for a long time, that when it opened, you don''t know how to let in people."

    Claire sighs; despite everything she feels about Jake, couldn''t deny the truth. "Why do you know so much about these things?"

    He shrugs. "I''m a salesman, Bella. I sell and move product because I know the human psyche. But please tell me first: am I spot-on?"

    "Well," she hesitates. "Yes and no. Yes, I was an ugly duckling. Growing up, nobody paid any attention to me. So I spent most of my time alone, lost in a world of books. I focused on maintaining the few friends I had, who only eventually betrayed me when they found it convenient to do so. I was alone. I couldn''t rely on my peers. So I took revenge on my fate by excelling in class. I was so busy studying and taking part in all those extra-curricular activities that I didn''t notice it when boys started paying attention. Boys were asking me out, and I didn''t know what to do. I tried one, who turned out to be a jerk. He only wanted to get into my pants."

    "Really?" Jake nervously gulps down his red wine. "Do you mean he didn''t succeed? That''s you''re still a v?r??n, right at this very moment?"

    "Eww!" Claire cringes. "The way you say ''virgin'', it''s like you''re too excited."

    Jake laughs. "Sorry."

    "Do you think you''re getting a piece of this? Hell, no." Claire laughs.

    "I certainly didn''t mean anything like that," he says. "And what about the second one. You said ''yes and no''. What''s the ''no'' part?"

    Claire''s silent for a while, fiddling with what remains of her salad. "Well, it isn''t true that I don''t know how to let people in. It''s just that at this point in my life, I''m confused. I think I''m falling for someone, but I also know I have no chance in this world to be with that someone. Sometimes I spend hours just wondering if things were different, if we met in a different circumstance, would it have been better? I don''t know. That''s why I try to just focus on the work. On my job, right now. I try not to think about him and what he represents in my life."

    "Oh, sorry."

    "No need to be sorry. At least you deserve the truth. Which also means this is a friendly date, Jake. If you''re thinking taking this further, then I''m telling you: you''re not getting a piece of this." She giggles so innocently that Jake feels an ache in his heart¡ªan ache when he realizes he''ll never have this wonderful person in his life. This is what he has, a moment, a few hours, and after this, nothing.

    But.

    Drink that wine, and maybe he could live with not having her in his life.

    Claire swishes the wine in her glass; she''s thinking about Gabriel Tan, and what he might be doing at this moment. Maybe he''s cooking up new plans to hurt Michelle. Which also shows that, despite what everything he says, he still has some affection for his ex-fianc¨¦e. Actions speak louder than words, after all. Maybe he''s in another part of the city. Maybe he''s with another girl. And thinking about that¡ªshe''s not sure, but a cloud of loneliness, of sadness, descends on her.

    "A penny for your thoughts?" Jake says.

    "Oh, nothing. I just¡­ Nothing."

    Claire gently places the glass of wine on the table. Jake eyes it with growing concern.

    "Why not drink something. Whatever you''re feeling, or whatever you think you''re feeling, maybe a glass of wine can help." Jake smiles that winsome smile that has earned him a truckload of money.

    "Yeah, why not?" Claire says, takes the wine, and gulps it down in one go.

    Jake''s jaws drop¡ªJesus, he didn''t expect this girl to drink that glass of wine so easily.

    Claire wipes her lips with the back of her hand. "Oh, my God, that was delicious."

    "Yeah?" Jake''s voice quakes in anticipation, carefully noting Bella''s face for any changes. "I''ll bring you a bottle next time."

    "Really? That would be cool," she says. "You know what, Jake. You''re actually a nice person. They told me you''re a snake¡ªJake the Snake, hahahaha!¡ªbut you''re actually cool. They told me to steer clear of you, that you would do something. But here you are, giving me a nice sensible conversation I''ve never had in years. Years, Jake. So, thank you. Thank you for¡ª"

    Claire suddenly drops on the table face-down, as if someone turned off the lights inside her.

 Chapter 39 - The Confrontation

    "Is she okay?"

    "Yeah she''s absolutely fine," Jake says to the waiter, who suddenly materialized by their table.

    Jake''s voice quakes with panic, but he has the presence of mind to take a swig of his red wine to calm his nerves. "She''s fine. She has narcolepsy. She''ll wake up in a minute."

    "Are you sure?" The waiter looks like he''s still in high school. "Because she''s¡­there''s foam in the corner of her mouth."

    "What?" Jake grabs a wad of tissue and examines Claire''s face closely. He carefully¡ªperhaps reverentially¡ªwipes the corner of her lips¡ªthe same lips he''ll be ravishing later.

    He faces the waiter, smiling. "Told you, she''s fine. This is a normal part of our lives, you know."

    "Is she your wife?"

    "Yes, she''s my wife," Jake says with conviction. "It''s our anniversary dinner. Maybe the excitement prompted the narcoleptic attack. This often happens, sadly."

    "Oh, I see." The waiter looks at Jake from head to toe, seemingly incredulous. "Do you have an identification card, sir, so I can verify if¡ª"

    "Listen, young man," Jake barks. "I''m already under so much stress. I don''t need you questioning me, especially now that my wife is in the middle of a narcoleptic episode. If you want to be useful, can you help me do something?"

    The waiter hesitates for second. "What kind of help?"

    "Help me bring her to our car. She needs to rest for a while. She can''t stay here looking like this, slumped over the table like some dead doll."

    "Oh, uhh, sure."

    Claire is completely unconscious. Her br??sts almost spill out of her dress, and it takes Jake and the waiter some careful maneuvering to bring her to the car in the parking lot. They carefully place her in the backseat of his sedan, tucking her legs in.

    "She''s alright," Jake says to the waiter, who''s standing there staring at Claire. Jake closes the car door. "Thank you for your help. I''ll bring my wife home now."

    "You should bring her to the hospital. I can call¡ª"

    "There''s no need for that. She only needs some rest. This is not an emergency. This always happens to us, especially during times of great excitement."

    Jake flashes his most winsome smile¡ªand it works, as the waiter nods and smiles back. "Well, if you need help, just call Fastidio''s, sir. I''ll be happy to¡ª"

    "Yes, yes," Jake snaps impatiently. "Will call you, if ever we need you. Thank you."

    As Jake starts the car''s engine, his mind already savors the fruition of his dream, how he''d unwrap this wonderful gift in his bed, how he''d savor every single moment he''s with her. He''d make sure that when he''s done with her, she''d be so embarrassed she won''t ever mention anything about this. Like the other girls before her.

    It''s a short drive to the outskirts of the city, where his "lair" is located in a proto-suburban spread that would have seemed fashionable in the 1960s. The houses have great lawns and lots of space in between, so much that even when Jake struggles in carrying an unconscious woman to his own front door, nobody would notice. Claire''s body is so heavenly to the touch, Jake thinks. She feels so soft, so¡­vulnerable.

    Jake struggles with the key to his front door; he couldn''t insert it properly. Beside him, on the short steps, Claire is still asleep, her head tilted to a side, her blonde hair half-covering her face.

    When at last the door opens, Jake musters his last remaining strength, and fully carries her straight to the bedroom. He throws her on the bed.

    "You really are so hot," Jake says to the sleeping figure. "Oh, my god, I don''t know where to start, Bella. I could drink you all up and still be parched."

    Jake starts unbuttoning his shirt and pants. He leaves nothing on but his und?rw??r. He crawls on all fours, panther-like, on the bed, on top of Claire''s sleeping figure. Jake notes how the girl''s br??sts heaves as she breathes; perhaps she''s dreaming. "Dream on, dear Bella," Jake mutters in the dark. "Dream on. Me, I''d prefer to be in this kind of reality. With you."

    Jake starts fumbling with Claire''s dress. He places a trembling hand on one of her br??sts, feeling the flesh underneath the flimsy fabric. "I''ll give this tit a ten!" Jake giggles. "You''re a total babe, Bella Xavier. Now, please give her a round of applause."

    Jake stops, imagining a crowd clapping to the total babe that is lying helplessly before him.

    He fumbles with her bra. And just as he gets a glimpse of her n?k?d br??sts, an electronic buzzing sound pierces through the house''s silence.

    It''s the doorbell.

    "Who the hell?" Jake quickly rummages through his mind for any possible answer. Did he invite someone tonight? Is this one of his cousins? At this time of the night? Who the hell could this be?

    The doorbell buzzes again, and again, quite impatiently.

    "Who''s that?" Jake yells, his irritation rising by the second. "I didn''t order anything!"

    "Jake," a man''s voice is heard from outside. It''s a voice that''s eerily familiar to him; he''s heard it almost every day, in various stages of distress. "Jake Magno, open this door. Or I''ll smash it open."

    "Jesus Henry Christ," Jake mutters, trying to simultaneously stand up and grab the clothes strewn on the floor. "Gabriel, is that you?"

 Chapter 40 - The Reckoning

    When Jake Magno opens the door, his face turns white as sheet.

    "Gabriel?" he mutters, disbelieving.

    Gabriel Tan, who looks every inch like he''d just walked out of a board room meeting with his immaculate Armani suit and slicked back hair, says nothing. He stares at Jake, his eyes cold as metal.

    Jake tries to grin, but it must have come out as a grimace. "G-Gabriel, I''m not sure about the reason for this visit¡ªn-not that I don''t like getting visited by my boss at an ungodly hour, but a little enlightenment would make a world of difference."

    "Where is she?" Gabriel says. He steps into the threshold.

    "What do you mean? Who''s she?" Jake says.

    "Jake," he says, turning to the man who''s still trying to put on his pants. "Look at me. Make a long, hard, discerning look."

    "How do you mean?"

    "Look at me. Tell me what you see."

    "I-I''m not sure what you''re driving at¡­"

    "When you look at me, do you see an idiot?"

    "I, uhh¡­"

    "Do you see an idiot whom you can trick into going around in circles, Jake?"

    "Sir, I¡­"

    "Answer!"

    "Sir," Jake stammers. "Sir, I don''t see an idiot, sir, with all due respect. I see a captain of industry. A man who knows what he wants and gets it. A man who deserves the utmost respect."

    Gabriel Tan stands in the middle of Jake Magno''s living room, like some larger-than-life god. "Then why in hell are you treating me like an idiot? When I ask you, ''Where is she?'' The only response I expect is you pointing to me the exact direction of where I can exactly find her."

    Jake says nothing. His heart pounds madly in his ?h?st. Already his mind calculates all the possibilities, as his immediate future flashes in his mind. If Gabriel Tan, his boss, discovers what he did, his life is over¡ªhe could go to jail. Maybe not even a regular jail, but the worst kind of jail imaginable¡ªGabriel has incredible political connections, and he holds the puppet strings that limit to certain ends the actions of a few well-known and important people. Gabriel could easily make his life hell on earth. And that''s only for starters. What about the career he has built over the years? His properties? His life of leisure? The things he enjoys? He would lose every single thing. As he stares at Gabriel Tan behave in his own house like this man owns him, owns the whole world, Jake Magno realizes that his entire life has fused into a singular, pin-point gestalt: this moment is the trigger, here lies the crossroads. To be or not to be?

    To let Gabriel Tan find out, or not?

    As Jake slowly backs away, his hand searches for something behind him, something he knows is there, something he''ll recognize just by touch.

    His metal baseball bat.

    Gabriel doesn''t realize it, but Jake has secretly gotten hold of the bat, holding it behind him.

    "I ask you one last time," Gabriel mutters, turning to him. "Where. Is. She?"

    "And I''m telling you, sir, again, I have no idea what you''re talking about. I''m here all alone. Can''t a man enjoy a few moments to enjoy by himself after a long, tiring day at work?"

    The look on Gabriel''s face says he doesn''t buy a shred of what Jake said. He looks around. He knows this kind of house. It''s quite simple. In one of his real estate development companies, he championed this kind of design because it''s simple, cheap to build, and yet can be sold at a princely profit through sheer marketing trickery. One opening leads to the kitchen and to the backyard, and the other leads only to a short hallway to a couple of bedrooms.

    And he''s facing that very hallway right at this very moment.

    "Jake, do I really have to go there and find out myself?"

    Jake''s face is filmed with sweat. "I''m not really sure what you mean, sir."

    Gabriel gazes at him. He grits his teeth. Without a word, he ambles toward the hallway, toward that room whose door is slightly open, where a faint light glimmers from inside. Gabriel''s sure of what he''ll find there. Technology has never failed him. Technology has saved his life countless times, and he''s sure, this is going to be among such times he''s grateful for it.

    He pushes the door wider. It''s dark. There''s a lampshade by the bed. And there, in bed, is a figure that seems so familiar he could name her even in this darkness.

    A sudden rush of rage lodges in Gabriel''s throat. "You animal¡ª"

    Maybe Gabriel is just lucky. Maybe it''s his lightning reflexes. But Jake''s baseball bat misses Gabriel''s face by only a fraction of an inch, maybe smaller. The bat hits the door frame instead, and it makes a sound so loud and solid it seems to shake the house to its foundations.

    Gabriel ducks as he grabs Jake''s arm, twisting it in a firm grip.

    Jake grimaces in pain. But he''s a cornered animal, and he''ll do anything to stop Gabriel from opening this can of worms. He head-butts Gabriel, forcing the man to loosen his grip. Jake uses it as opportunity to shove him away with all his desperate strength.

    Gabriel Tan''s body smashes against furniture. He tries to grab whatever he could, but there''s nothing there but wall.

    Jake''s figure hovers over him, holding that baseball bat. If that bat hits the intended target, it would be the end for Gabriel Tan. But Gabriel''s years of practicing Jiu-jitsu will now be put to the test¡ªhe chambers both his legs like a ???ked gun, and doesn''t wait for Jake to make use of that bat¡ªhe uses both legs to kick Jake in whatever body part is within reach. Jake doubles over as he''s hit in the groin.

    Gabriel is up on his feet in an instant, and he grabs Jake with both arms, using his knee to repeatedly kick the other man in the ?h?st. Then he uses his elbow to make one last, powerful strike to Jake''s face¡ªand Jake collapses on the floor.

    Jake groans in pain as he lies on his back. He tries to speak but he coughs up blood.

    Gabriel is taking no chances¡ªhe kicks away the baseball bat, far away from Jake''s reach.

    "I''m done with you," Gabriel mutters.

    "If you fire me," Jake manages to say, "I''ll bring with me all of my clients. I''ll bring down your company."

    Gabriel shakes his head. "You poor thing. Sure. Bring down my company¡ªwhich is only one among thousands I run. But I''ll make sure you don''t even go near any of my people again."

    Jake says nothing; he wheezes, struggling to breathe. He holds up a hand, like he''s about to say something. But then the hand drops and his whole body relaxes.

    Gabriel stares at him for a long time. He''s sure he didn''t kill Jake. All those strikes were finely calculated, despite his rage. He only hit him in places that could make Jake lose consciousness. Nevertheless, Gabriel checks the man''s pulse, and when he''s sure Jake''s fine¡ªif being fine means being knocked out cold with your face covered in blood--he stands up and regards the whole scene of the crime.

    He turns to the bedroom, where Claire lies, still unconscious. He carefully, almost as if in prayer, fixes Claire''s clothes to cover her n?k?dness. He tenderly bu??ons up her blouse and checks her pulse. He reaches into a tiny fold in her blonde wig, and pulls out a tiny gadget, the size of a human mole: a GPS transmitter. He pinches it just a tiny bit, and the mole emits a faint red glow.

    "I don''t know what that ?sshole gave you," he mutters to her in the darkness. "But we''ll fix that. I''m sorry, Claire. I should have told you about everything. I should have told you that your life is at stake. That danger lurks at every turn. I''m the biggest ?sshole here. And I''m sorry."

    For a long time, he gazes at her face, so peaceful and beautiful despite every tragic thing that surrounds this moment. Then he carefully lifts and carries her into his waiting car. Dust billows as the car speeds down the road, toward the general direction of the Residence.

    A few minutes later, the police arrive, surrounding Jake Magno''s house.

 Chapter 41 - The Flying Whisky

    Gabriel could not bring Claire to a hospital. There are eyes and ears everywhere, and this could easily get blown out of proportion. He couldn''t risk it. Yet, he also couldn''t risk Claire''s well-being, so on the way to the Residence, he has already called up Lopez the butler, who in turn contacted the best doctor they know.

    Lopez has also arranged everything in the Residence so Gabriel and Claire could arrive in utmost privacy. Only Dale and Lucille the chambermaid are allowed to serve them. They use the service elevator for the back-of-house staff¡ªpeople who now are actually just serving a single person¡ªwhich also opens directly on the penthouse floor.

    Lopez the butler and the doctor are already there when they arrive. They all help in placing Claire on the bed and making her comfortable. The doctor performs all the mandatory checkups¡ªat least the ones that don''t require medical instruments. After checking her eyes and her breathing, the doctor extracts a vial of blood from her arm.

    "Is that necessary?" Gabriel says, eyeing the amount of blood in the glass vial.

    "I''m afraid it is," the doctor mutters. Then he drops some of the blood into an instrument and waits. The instrument makes an odd beeping sound, and displays some numbers on the LED screen.

    "It''s Rohypnol, the date **** drug" the doctor says, shaking his head. "At a fairly high dose."

    Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose. "Is she going to be okay?"

    "Well," the doctor says, rummaging through his bag. He finds another vial of blue liquid. He shows it to Gabriel. "She will be fine after I give her this antidote, which was actually developed by one of your companies, Mr. Tan."

    "Really?"

    The doctor nods, then without another word, he injects the blue liquid into Claire''s arm. The woman doesn''t budge; she stays blissfully unaware of everything.

    The doctor straightens up. "Well, now, you''ll only have to let her rest for about six hours. She''ll be fine. She''ll wake up without much recollection of what happened to her. She might not even remember whoever did this to her."

    "It''s not really relevant, Doc. That has been taken care of."

    The doctor shrugs. "Please call me if you notice anything, anything at all, Mr. Tan."

    "He''s staying in a suite on the ground floor," Lopez bu??s in. "So he''ll be here just in case you need him, sir."

    Gabriel smiles. "Perfect. And thank you. I really appreciate this."

    After the two left, Gabriel paces the suite''s receiving area, deep in thought. Then he makes a phone call¡ªa brief one, which ended with him muttering some curses. He walks into the pantry and comes out holding a full glass of whisky. He stands by the glass wall, gazing at the skyline of the glittering city, sipping his whisky. He''s not really like this. He''s not really into alcohol. But he needs to calm down his nerves, and somehow, the chemical warmth that settles in his belly feels good, for the moment.

    So many things have happened in the past few days, as though his life has accelerated and everything''s happening in a dizzying blur. He b?r?ly even has time to think. What makes it worse is that nagging feeling about having done something terrible, or wrong. His mind points to the obvious¡ªhiring Claire Monteverde to do a dirty hatchet job¡ªbut his heart says something else¡ªhow could it be "bad" when being with this woman feels good?

    There are many things he can''t really admit even to himself, even in moments of dark candor. He can''t even say it out loud to his mirror''s reflection every morning. But this fake thing, this fake job for his fake fianc¨¦e¡ªmore and more, the fakeness fades and he''s starting to feel something real.

    Or is it? Isn''t this another one of those instances of him being misled by his own feelings? With the chaos all around him, can he still trust anything, especially that which his heart feels?

    Gabriel takes a sip of the whisky. Then another. And another. Soon, the glass is empty. But instead of quitting, he solemnly refills the glass to the brim. He stares at the golden liquid and imagines what it will do to his feelings¡ªwould it drown this silly thing he feels?

    So many questions, but not even one clear answer. He gulps it down again¡ªand strangely for a man who doesn''t usually drink, the liquor tastes like water. And before long, the room starts to wobble. He remembers the doctor''s words: "Call me if you notice anything. Anything, at all." So how''s Claire?

    He ambles toward the bedroom where Claire lies, peacefully asleep. He tries to walk straight but his head, his limbs feel heavy. He stops by the door and stares at Claire''s sleeping figure: she looks like something plucked straight from a fairytale book. Why hasn''t he noticed it before? Claire''s actually really lovely. And to think¡­Nah, he musn''t feel this way. Kill this love¡ªisn''t it what that famous song says?

    "Call me if you notice anything," the doctor''s words flash in his mind.

    He makes a step toward the bed, and somehow, his foot trips on the carpet¡ªthe room spins, and he sees his whisky glass flying in the air, making a lovely arc over Claire, spilling all the whisky over Claire''s dress. Then he falls face-down on the carpet.

    Gabriel grimaces in pain. As he stands up, only then he realizes he has "bathed" the sleeping Claire with his whisky. He stares at her for minutes, unsure of what to do. The first thing he thinks is calling up Lucille, the chamber maid. He''s already holding the phone when he stops: this is a simple thing, why ask someone else to clean her up? It''s a simple matter of changing her clothes, right?

    He can take off her dress, and replace it with the hotel''s own bathrobe¡ªall by himself. No need to involve anyone else. Surely, that''s nothing but necessary between boss and employee, right?

    In his whisky-clouded mind, it seems the most logical thing.

    So he does the "normal" thing a man can do in a situation like this: he starts unbuttoning her blouse, thinking he could easily swap it with a clean one¡ªsurely, there''s a clean blouse in the wardrobe somewhere around here, right? But as he unbuttons her blouse, trying not to look at her body, a weird thing happens¡ªthe room starts to spin again, and this time, the light undulates¡ªas though he''s underwater. The room spins, and he shakes his head to make it stop, only to worsen it. He closes his eyes, willing everything to calm down, the room to stop, but the opposite thing happens¡ªthe room tumbles upside-down in his vision, Claire''s body seems to drop on him from the ceiling, and as his nostrils get filled with her delightful womanly scent, as the whisky-induced darkness wraps its wings around his mind, the last thing he remembers is how soft, how delightful Claire''s skin feels on his face. Before everything recedes into an inky silence.

 Chapter 42 - The Whisky-soaked Morning

    What wakes him up is the banshee scream.

    In the periphery of his mind, he hears a woman screaming¡ªfaintly, as though she''s coming from far away. He tries to open his eyes, but fails at the first attempt. His eyelids seem stuck together, like somebody glued them. He musters the will to open them, actually "telling" his eyelids to "let go." And when finally he gets a glimpse of the morning light, the screams hit him like a slap in the face.

    "What did you do to me?" Claire is sitting upright on the bed, her arms on her ?h?st, glaring at him. Her hair is disheveled, and she smells like she''s been stewing in whisky. "Oh my God, did you take advantage of me?"

    Gabriel Tan tries to open his mouth, but pain streaks through his head even before he utters the first word.

    "How could you do this to me, Gabriel?" Claire sobs. "You''ve taken advantage of a helpless girl! I was knocked out! How could you?"

    "Aw come on," Gabriel mutters, grimacing in pain. "This is not how it looks like."

    "I trusted you, Mister Tan!" Claire continues sobbing. "I thought you were a good person! But now this! Did you hire me just to¡­To¡­To have your way with my body?"

    Despite the gravity of the moment, and his throbbing headache, Gabriel giggles at that. "Come on, Miss Monteverde, are you being serious?"

    Claire looks offended. "What? Do you think this is a small matter? How dare you take my v?r??n?t? and laugh about it¡ª"

    "What? You mean you''re still a v?r??n?"

    "I WAS a v?r??n, until you took it!"

    Gabriel starts giggling, then the giggles turn into full-blown laughter. He''s bending over, holding his stomach, trying to contain it.

    Claire looks on, confused. "What''s happening? Are you crazy?"

    It takes a few minutes more until Gabriel''s laughter dies down. There are actually tears in his eyes. "I''m sorry," he says. "You said you were a v?r??n. Which means you''re still a v?r??n, Miss Monteverde, because NOTHING happened last night."

    "Then why¡ª" Claire looks at her stained blouse that reeks of liquor. It''s partially unbuttoned. "Why does it look like something happened?"

    "I can explain," Gabriel says, trying to sit up. He grimaces when the pain hits him in the head again. "It''s like this, Miss Monteverde. You were¡ª" Gabriel stops. He suddenly realizes Claire does not remember much anything about last night. It''s the roofies drug, which causes a certain level of amnesia. She probably doesn''t remember the last parts of her dinner with Jake Magno. She doesn''t even have an idea of all that drama last night. He feels she doesn''t have to be burdened by knowing about what almost happened¡ªyet, at some point, he must tell her the truth about all the dangers that come with this job. But maybe later. Soon.

    "You fainted at the office," he finally says. "We brought you here. Our doctor checked you, and you''re fine. Then I was having a little nightcap with the whisky when I had an accident."

    "What kind of accident?"

    "I sort of¡­ stumbled over you and lost consciousness."

    "Why? Are you sick? Did someone drug you?"

    Oh, Claire, if only you knew, Gabriel thinks as he stares at her face, so fresh and innocent in the morning. He realizes for the first time that she''s one of those beauties who look pretty with or without makeup. "I got a little drunk, I think."

    "And you spilled all the liquor on me?"

    "Yeah," he says sheepishly. "Stupid, no?"

    "Yeah!" Claire giggles. "Imagine that? I wouldn''t expect that from the CEO of a big holdings company." She laughs.

    "Hold it right there, woman. I might be the CEO, but I''m still human, too."

    "Well, I guess you''re right," she says. "So what now?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "We''re still in bed so late in the morning. What are your plans?"

    He''s not sure, but the way she just said "We''re in bed so late in the morning" sends his heart aflutter. Like it''s the cutest thing. Like they actually have something, a budding relationship. As though this is their first morning after the honeymoon, or something.

    Honeymoon?

    What if? Gabriel wonders, as he gazes at her, with the morning light streaming beautifully through the window. What if this turns real? Is it even possible?

    "Okay, Miss Virginity, this is what we''ll do," he teases.

    "Stop calling me that, Gabriel."

    Gabriel laughs. "It''s funny how you''re¡­" How you''re still a v?r??n despite being stunning, is what Gabriel almost says, but he bites his tongue. "Well, you can take the day off. You probably need some rest. I understand the past few days have been very stressful."

    "That''s the understatement of the year," she says.

    "But tonight," he says, weighing his words, "you need to be ready."

    Confusion knits her brow. "Ready for what?"

    Gabriel sighs. "My mom arrives tonight. He''ll go straight to this place to confront you."

    Claire almost chokes on that.

 Chapter 43 - The Towel

    "Tonight?" Claire says, incredulous. "You can''t possibly be serious!"

    "That''s why I said get ready."

    "Get ready how?"

    Gabriel Tan shrugs. "Maybe get a grand pampering session at the spa?"

    "This place has a spa?"

    "Of course," Gabriel beams. "This was formerly a hotel, remember?"

    Claire stares at him. "But what does getting pampering have anything to do with being ready to meet your mom? I''m sure there''s nothing that a woman like me can do in this lifetime to impress her."

    You have no idea how impressive you actually are, Gabriel thinks. But he says, "I''m not sure either, but trying to relax won''t hurt, right?"

    Claire mulls it over. She has never gone to a spa, never got a massage in her life. She has never been conscious of her beauty¡ª"what you see is what you get" has been her lifelong motto. No need to improve her skin or undergo beauty or cosmetic treatments, like so many women of her age do. She''s happy with what she has, and she''s sure any man who would really love her won''t force her to "improve" her looks. Not that it needs improving at all.

    But Gabriel is her boss and what he says must be followed, she reasons. After all, it''s all free¡ªhow many others can have a free day pass at a spa?

    "All right," she says finally.

    "Perfect!" Gabriel says.

    Claire''s brow knits in confusion. "Why are you so excited about me going to the spa?"

    Gabriel smiles. "You don''t expect me to let you get pampered while I''m all frayed nerves, here, do you? Of course, I''m going with you."

    "What?"

    "You''re my ''fiancee'', remember? We need to keep up pretenses."

    No one would bother exploring this hotel so where''s the need to keep up with the pretense, Claire thinks, but she keeps it to himself. "What time is it now?"

    Gabriel looks at his Rolex watch. "I guess it''s time we get going."

    It''s that "we" again, and somehow, secretly, it sends Claire''s heart aflutter. "Sure, but I reek of liquor. I think I should have a quick shower first."

    Gabriel gazes at her with that half-smile. Claire could only vaguely guess what this man is thinking. But she''s serious¡ªshe''s still a v?r??n, and she plans on staying that way until the right man comes. But somehow, in her heart of hearts, Claire fears that if Gabriel says right now that he wants them to shower together, she might not have the strength to resist.

    "Well, I''m sorry about all that," he says, pointing at her stained dress. "I was clumsy. Don''t worry, I''ll have Cassandra bring some of her best stuff. But right now, you''re right, you really need to get a shower." He grins.

    Claire waits. And waits. And when Gabriel still doesn''t move, she says, "Well, aren''t you leaving?"

    "Why?"

    "Because I''m taking a shower and you''re still here."

    "What, are you showering right in the middle of this bedroom? Why do I need to leave?"

    "Hello?"

    "Well, what I mean is, I''ll wait for you to finish up so we can go together to the spa downstairs."

    "You''ll go like that? You won''t clean up first?"

    Gabriel giggles. "Are you suggesting we take a shower together?"

    Jesus Henry Christ, this man. "Of course, not! I was just wondering why I''m supposed to clean up and you''re not."

    "I can clean up at the spa, you know." He''s still smiling. "And besides, I''ll have the butler bring up some breakfast. I''m famished."

    "Okay," she says, standing up. She doesn''t bother hiding her unbuttoned dress, but she doesn''t care now. "Alright, be my guest."

    "Thank you, Madam," Gabriel says, snickering, and makes a curtsy so the "Princess" can squeeze her way out of the tight space beside the bed.

    Once in the bathroom, Claire immediately takes all her clothes off and leaves everything on the floor. She''s tired and confused with all these feelings and it''s not even noon yet. She turns the marble knob and discovers heaven: the water is just the perfect warmth. She lets the water run upon her, the water pressure gently ??r?ssing her body. As she luxuriates in the shower, she thinks about the man outside the bathroom: Gabriel. What must he be thinking now? Does he think to himself: "Oh, right at this very moment, Claire is n?k?d and there''s only this wall between us." Claire smiles to herself¡ªmen are always like that. She''s had her fair share of such men, but none has ever gotten past first base. The truth is, she''s curious¡ªhow it must feel when you''re doing it with the one you really love? What she knows about m?k?n? ??v? is limited to what she''s seen in the movies or read in borderline raunchy literature¡ªshe doesn''t know how it must feel when a man runs her lips all over your body, or when he ??r?sses you softly. She closes her eyes as she imagines it, unbidden¡ªand before she realizes it, she''s touching herself.

    She jerks in shock¡ªwhat is she doing? She holds up her hand and looks at the peculiar wetness. She sighs¡ªfor all she knows, she''s not the one who drank the whisky. Why this odd behavior, this strange train of thoughts? Why does she feel this¡­longing?

    It must be the strange context in which she''d woken up. Seeing a man sleeping beside her was a first in her life¡ªand it was her boss, at that.

    She turns the knob, choosing the cold water. She lets the chilly water shake her out of the fog of this confusing d?s?r?. She lets the water run for a few more minutes, and stops only when she starts shivering from the cold.

    She steps out of the shower, her hand grasping for the towel¡ªand doesn''t find it there.

    She has no towel. She''s dripping wet. She hesitates about asking Gabriel for a towel. "Damn it," she mutters, and opens the door just a bit. "Gabriel?" she half-yells. "Gabriel, can you get me a towel, please?"

    No answer.

    "Gabriel? Mr. Tan? Is anyone out there?"

    Still no answer. Maybe Gabriel has left without telling her.

    "Gabriel?" She peeks out of the bathroom door. She looks around. The suite is quiet. Yes, maybe he has already left. She got the suite finally all to herself.

    Claire gingerly steps out, her wet feet leaving damp marks on the carpet. She''s not sure where to find the towels, but the bedroom would be a good bet. Knowing that she''s all alone in the room has banished her inhibitions, as she freely moved around n?k?d.

    She throws the wardrobe door wide open, but it''s empty. She stops for a moment, trying to decide whether to call up Dale or Lucille the maid or continue searching the room. Then she recalls her first day in the suite, how she''d spent the afternoon in the Jacuzzi, gazing at the city below¡­Maybe there are towels in the glass cabinet beside the jetted tub? Worth a try. But she hasn''t yet moved when she hears a voice behind her.

    "Oh, my God, you''re n?k?d."

    She turns around and sees Gabriel standing at the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

 Chapter 44 - The Naked Girl in the Bedroom

    She sees Gabriel standing there, gazing at her body, and instantly Claire''s heart lodges in her throat. She tries to speak but nothing comes out.

    Gabriel, on the other hand, is simply stunned, as though bitten by a snake. He''s never thought Claire Monteverde would look like this underneath all those clothes. Okay, he really did have an inkling¡ªhe very well remembers that scene at his mansion, during that messy pool party that Michelle Alcantara ruined, when Claire b?r?d her flawless bikini bod.

    But this¡ªthis is an entirely different level of awesomeness. Not even his old jadedness could shake off his intense excitement. The sight of Claire standing in the bedroom as n?k?d as the day she was born was like a shotgun blast to his senses¡ªthat is, if shotgun blasts look like Cupid''s arrow.

    "Uhh," Gabriel clears his throat. "You''re not wearing anything, Claire."

    Hearing his voice seems to wake up Claire, who snaps with, "Thank you, Captain Obvious. I know." She looks around, as though unaware that her boss is seeing all this. Not even her previous boyfriends were lucky enough to see the entire Claire Monteverde flawless merchandise, so Gabriel doesn''t realize how lucky he is right now. "The bathroom has no towel. Please find me one, will you? And stop staring!"

    "Uhh, y-y-yess, Ma''am!" he stammers, unsure of what to do or where to go. "We-where do you think I can get a towel?"

    "Find one, Mister Tan!" Claire snaps, hands on her h?ps, as though Lady Fierce has just gotten online. "Go!"

    Gabriel bolts and disappears into one of the rooms of the suite. Claire quickly closes the bedroom door. She makes a big sigh of relief. "Oh my, God!" she mutters to herself. "Oh my God! Did that just happen? Oh my God!"

    Claire hyperventilates. Those were perhaps the most intense few seconds of her life. She didn''t know what to do. She could have grabbed the nearby blanket on the bed. She could have grabbed the pillow and used it to cover her most precious body parts. But shreds of her old debating skills somehow took over, and on reflex she used one of the oldest tricks in the book: fake your confidence, redirect attention, use surprising, unexpected action. Which was what she did. But oh boy, what a performance!

    Claire touches her face, her cheeks¡ªshe feels warm. She had been blushing. She must have been totally red in the face. But Gabriel didn''t seem to notice. If he did, he wouldn''t be acting so silly, like some teenaged boy caught red-handed.

    And most important of all, as she gazes at her reflection on the life-sized mirror across the room, she''s still so darned n?k?d. Like Lady Godiva on a special morning. Where in hell is that towel?

    Meanwhile, Gabriel''s opening closets, looking under tables, moving furniture. He has no idea where to find a towel. All the usual places are empty. He can make critical business decisions that could affect entire countries, but finding a towel in the middle of this nameless excitement is his Waterloo. There are bathrobes and fluffy slippers and what-have-you, but there seems to be no towel anywhere in this entire room.

    But the truth is, he isn''t seeing what''s in front of him, as Claire''s image plays in an endless loop in his head: Claire in the bedroom, flawlessly gorgeous, with curves in all the right places. Who would have thought? And what makes it more compelling is the fact that Claire, as she confessed, is still a v?r??n: all that beauty, yet untouched by the ?ust of other men. How closely that had been ruined by Jake Magno just last night. Virginity doesn''t really matter for him, though¡ªhe''s not like some backwater idiot who values women based on whether or not their h?m?n is still intact. But for some reason, the word "virgin" and "Claire" in the same sentence has an impact on him: she feels a certain sweetness about the whole idea. As though Claire becomes much more special, as though she had been "saved" by life for only one man in the whole world.

    And who could be that man?

    Gabriel is peeking under the bed as he thinks that, and he feels a tiny pang of jealousy: who could be that man, in the future after all this 30-day "job," that Claire would meet and perhaps fall in love with? When the contract is finished, he might never see her again. Even now, he doesn''t want the days to go on, and this arrangement to end.

    Goddammit, where did all the towels go? There''s nothing. He stands in the middle of the room and realizes there''s a phone in the corner¡ªwhy not just call up Concierge and have someone bring him a whole shitload of warm towels, for the sheer p???sur? of Her Majesty, Lady Godiva in the bedroom. So that''s what he actually does. In five minutes, he hears the doorbell.

    "Sir, you need fresh towels, sir?" Lucille says, her face unseen behind the tall stack of white towels in her arms.

    "Yes, thank you."

    He immediately closes the door, leaving Lucille wondering about why Gabriel Tan is being weird¡ªand why is he at Miss Claire''s suite at this hour?

    Gabriel knocks, the towels in her arm. "Claire? Claire? Here are the towels."

    The door opens and out comes Claire wearing the Residence''s monogrammed bathrobe. "Sorry, but I don''t think I still need that."

    Gabriel winces. "Sorry, I''m too late."

    "It''s okay," she says, uncertain of how to address him after the earlier embarrassment. "I''m sorry, too, for¡­.For everything."

    "Don''t say sorry. That was actually great¡ªerr, I mean, yeah, shit happens. Nothing to worry. At least you''re fine now."

    "Yeah," she nods.

    Silence. They stand there, seemingly waiting for the other one to break the ice. Claire couldn''t even meet his gaze.

    "Shall we go to the spa now?" he says after a while.

    "Sure. Can I go like this?"

    "It''s fine. They''ll make you wear something like that, anyway."

    "Then how about you?"

    "What about me?"

    "Aren''t you going with me? To the spa?"

    "Ah, yes, yes," he says, still a little distracted by his thoughts. "Yes, I''m coming with you."

    "Then you should change clothes, too."

    "I, uhh¡­" Only then does Gabriel realize he''s still wearing the suit from last night, when he had a scuffle with Jake. It''s torn in places, and grimy. He looks like he just walked in from a war. "Well, maybe I should change into something more appropriate, too."

    "Yes, you should," Claire says, and points to the bedroom. "There''s still one clean bathrobe in there."

    ""Absolutely," he says. He holds the door¡ª"Should I close this while I change, or¡­"

    "By all means, close the door, Mister Gabriel Tan! Don''t let me see you get n?k?d. Because if you don,t, I''m not sure if I can stop myself¡­" Claire grins.

    For a moment Gabriel doesn''t catch the joke, then he laughs sheepishly. "Yes, what was I thinking?" He closes the door gently.

    Outside, Claire''s bravado fizzles out the moment Gabriel is out of view. This performance is taking so much from her, as though she''s expending too much energy just to keep up with all her conflicting, weird feelings. Behind that door, Gabriel would be n?k?d, too. She could even picture it¡­No, Claire, stop! Stop being weird. You can''t go on like this. Draw the line and never cross it.

    But when the bedroom door opens and Gabriel comes out in a bathrobe, his shoulder-length hair tied in a ponytail, his muscles giving the fluffy bathrobe its distinct s?xiness, Claire''s sense of boundary is blurred by the mad beatings of her heart.

 Chapter 45 - The Fake-mergency

    The strange thing about the Residence, which used to be Ilustrados Hotel, is that even when it only has a single occupant, the entire establishment remains a fully functional boutique hotel. The restaurants may be empty, no one''s swimming in the rooftop infinity pool, nobody''s sitting at the bar¡ªand yet, every staff behaves as if business is in full swing.

    You''ll have to credit Gabriel Tan for all this madness, Claire thinks as they walk to the elevator. Look at how wasteful everything is. Approach the concierge or walk into any of the Residence''s four fine dining restaurants, and you''ll be treated like you''re special, that the entire kitchen staff, even the chef, rose from the beds that morning to serve you.

    It''s hard to wrap one''s mind around that. And for someone like Claire who had never previously been to any hotel, not even a luxurious one, everything seems absurd. Delightful, yes. Wonderful, even. But absurd, nevertheless.

    The lift opens and Gabriel lets her enter first. Once inside, Claire''s senses become so acute she could feel the electricity in the air. They stand side by side, in their bathrobes, and the looseness of the fabric and how it leisurely ??r?sses her skin as she slightly moves has an effect on her: as though she can feel his n?k?dness without being actually n?k?d.

    They both fix their eyes on the floor numbers, descending. And part of her wishes this lasts a million years, this descent. She wishes time stops, somehow¡ªshe won''t mind spending eternity inside this lift with him.

    "What?" Gabriel says, looking at her.

    "What do you mean ''what''?"

    "I thought you were saying something about ''stopping time.''"

    Holy shit. Did she just say her thoughts out loud¡ªagain?

    It''s an old problem, and it tends to surface during times of emotional distress or excitement. When she was a child, Claire would unknowingly hum her favorite Spice Girls song out loud during class lectures, realizing it only when the teacher would directly address her, to the laughter of the entire classroom. She was an ugly duckling then¡ªoh how things have changed. If only her teachers, her classmates could see her now. They won''t believe a thing of what has been happening with her. They won''t believe she''s in an elevator with one of the world''s most eligible bachelors.

    "Oh, I was just mumbling something."

    "Mumbling what?"

    Cornered, Claire grins sheepishly. "Forget it. It''s just a silly thing." She sighs.

    Gabriel says nothing.

    The lift is supposedly a high-speed one, yet, for some reason, it seems to be descending in ultra-slow motion. At one point, as they stand there side by side, Claire''s hand brushes oh-so-gently against Gabriel''s hand. It''s as if all her senses evacuated other parts of her body to gather at that same spot of skin that meets Gabriel''s hand¡ªand internally, she struggles¡ªher reflex is to avoid the man''s hand, just in case he starts thinking she''s doing this intentionally. Yet half of her tells her to just let it go, it''s all normal, this is a small space, after all, so this physical closeness is inevitable. So she stands there, her heart fluttering at the sensation, just letting things happen.

    Then something unexpected happens. The lift shakes, like an airplane going through turbulence, and immediately, Gabriel grasps her hand and squeezes it. "Don''t worry," he mutters. "This is an old building. It has its peculiarities."

    "Oh," is her only response.

    And weirdly, Gabriel doesn''t let go of her hand. He''s still holding her. As if afraid to let her go.

    Claire closes her eyes. She knows she''s blushing, and she hopes he doesn''t notice it.

    "Are you alright?" he says.

    "Why?"

    "Your face is all red!"

    So there it goes¡ªwhat she feels is obvious to the n?k?d eye. Claire couldn''t'' really hide anything to people, even her innermost feelings.

    "I''m fine, Gabriel."

    "No, no, no. You''re red in the face. Are you having a panic attack? Or an allergic reaction?"

    Jesus Henry Christ, the emotional reactions of this man! "I''m fine, Gabriel. I just feel¡­ I just feel¡­" I just feel strangely attracted to you, is what she wants to say, but the words never leave her lips.

    "I know what a panic attack looks like," he insists. "And you seem trembling. Jesus, Claire, I think you''re having an allergic reaction of some kind!"

    "I am fine, Gabriel!"

    "No, you''re not," Gabriel says, "This is an emergency." And as if on cue, the elevator doors open to the second floor, where the only establishment is the luxury spa. He grabs her in his arms, like a knight saving a damsel in distress. "Don''t worry, you''ll be fine! The spa has a resident medical personnel, too. Just relax."

    Then he half-runs, half-walks the entire length of the long hallway, carrying her in his arms as though he''s holding precious cargo.

    And while all this is happening, Claire is thinking: This is insane¡­but thrilling in a weird way. Why do I feel so good in his arms? Why am I having this strange sensation? This sense of intimacy, this closeness that I''ve never felt with anyone before, not even with my so-called boyfriends?

    She has given up struggling¡ªno point in telling this man that she''s fine. That she''s merely blushing. This is Gabriel Tan being crazy again, and Claire thinks she should just let the course run.

    As they arrive at the reception lobby of the luxury spa, manned by a lone receptionist who looks strikingly pretty by any standards, Gabriel is yelling, "I need ?ssistance. Get me the doctor!"

    The receptionist immediately disappears into a backroom.

    Gabriel gently places Claire on a sofa. "How are you feeling?"

    I told you I''m super fine, is what Claire almost says. But what comes out of her lips is, "I feel like I''m out of breath."

    "Jesus," he mutters. "Hold on."

    Gabriel looks around. There''s still no sight of the receptionist or the doctor, who just last night checked on Claire.

    And secretly, Claire is giggling inwardly. Look at how this man worries. She feels so special, as though Gabriel''s world would implode if something serious actually happens with her. And for some reason, some naughty streak, Claire even ups the ante. Even when she really feels fine, she says, "I can''t breathe, Gabriel."

    "Jesus, Claire," he says. "Wait." He looks around one last time. And when there''s still no sight of the doctor, he gazes at Claire.

    For a split-second, Claire seems to recognize a gleam of longing in Gabriel''s eyes¡ªbefore he swoops down to give her a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

    But there''s only one other strange thing: Claire''s tongue is awkwardly in the way as he tries to "resuscitate" her.

    And perhaps, whether intentional or not, Gabriel''s efforts in trying to "resuscitate" poor Claire, with that tongue in the way, and the heady feminine scent of this woman, and the memory of how she looked breathtakingly lovely and n?k?d in the bedroom playing in an endless loop in Gabriel''s head, the "mouth-to-mouth resuscitation" very slowly, like the luscious melting of glaciers, transforms into a deep, gentle, intimate kiss.

 Chapter 46 - The Exquisitely Luxurious Seaweed Soak

    Claire''s eyes are closed, yet all her senses are acutely in tune with the wonderful thing Gabriel, her boss, is doing with her mouth. At this point, he has stopped all pretense of giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, as they''re actually shamelessly kissing, right there in the reception lobby. Claire doesn''t know what to feel¡ªshe''s very well aware that if she was blushing previously, her redness at this point would be on a different level now. She''d be swooning. And because she''s pretty sure Gabriel''s eyes are closed too as he "passionately" plays with her tongue and lips, he also doesn''t realize it.

    She loses track of time, of the minutes as they pass by. Then at one point, she hears something distinct, which seemingly is coming from far away: the sound of someone clearing his throat.

    She opens her eyes, adjusting to the sight of the hazy figures of two people looming over them. Gabriel stops kissing her, too.

    "Uhh, Mister Tan," one of the figures says, and as Claire''s vision pulls into focus, she realizes it''s the doctor from last night, with the pretty receptionist. "Is there anything I can do here?"

    Gabriel stands up reluctantly, as though waking up from a lovely dream. "Doctor, she was feeling ill. I was trying to give her a¡­ a¡­ a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

    The doctor fake-coughs at that, yet tries to compose himself. He approaches Claire, who is already sitting awkwardly on the sofa, still in her bathrobe. He gently puts a hand on her forehead, and examines her eyes. He feels her pulse. It takes him about a minute to declare, "She''s fine, Mister Tan."

    "Are you sure?" Gabriel says.

    "Yes," the doctor says, visibly uncomfortable with trying not to say the obvious. "It seems Miss Claire experienced some after-effects of what she had taken, uhh¡­ Last night."

    Gabriel nods. "Yeah, that''s why I was resuscitating her."

    "Yeah," both the doctor and the receptionist say in unison. They look at each other, trying not to grin.

    "Had to do that," Gabriel says. "Because we don''t know what could have happened." He puts his hands on his h?ps and turns around, looking for more approval, like he really believes his own bullshit.

    The doctor clears his throat. "It''s so gallant of you, Mister Tan, to do everything you can to keep her safe."

    "Yeah!" Gabriel exclaims.

    And while all this is taking place, Claire is gazing at them, trying not to laugh at this silly charade. For some reason, she finds Gabriel''s shenanigans, whether he really believes it or not, deeply amusing. Gabriel could not do anything mean or nasty. He seems insane, but as far as she''s seen it, mostly in a good way. Like "insanely cute," if that makes sense.

    "So I think we''re ready for some pampering," Gabriel declares. He offers his hand to help Claire get up from the sofa.

    The receptionist flashes her sweetest smile. "Sir, we have prepared a truly lavish couples treatment for the two of you."

    "Perfect!" he says.

    "Can I choose what treatment I like?" Claire asks.

    "Then what treatment would you like?"

    She mulls it over for a moment. "A nice backrub?"

    Gabriel laughs. "Jesus, Claire, you''re in a luxury spa. They do more than just give you a backrub. Haven''t you had a spa treatment before?"

    She shakes her head. "I don''t know what to expect," she says sheepishly.

    "Then let them surprise you," he says.

    The receptionist leads them down the hallway lined with huge imposing wooden doors on both sides. She unlocks the last one. When Claire sees what''s inside, it takes her breath away. It''s a lavish suite, with a couple of what look like massage beds. And in a corner, surrounded by glass walls that give views of the city below, is an ornate marble bath tub.

    Two lady attendants greet them. When one starts disrobing Claire, she recoils. "What are you doing?"

    The lady attendant smiles patiently. "I''m preparing you for treatment, Ma''am."

    Claire turns to Gabriel for answers, but already he''s lying face-down on one massage table, while the other attendant starts preparing materials for the relaxation treatment. A white towel is draped over his shapely bu??.

    "Relax, Claire," he says. "Let them do the magic for you. Trust me, you''ll love it."

    "But she''s taking my robe off."

    Gabriel laughs. "Don''t worry, I won''t look."

    "Turn to the other side," Claire insists.

    "Seriously?" Gabriel says, and mutters to himself, "It''s not like I haven''t seen everything."

    "What did you say?"

    "Oh nothing," Gabriel says. "Turning away here, and not looking, not even a peep," he says, as he makes a big production of how he''s really turning to the other side, away from Claire.

    A tiny smile curves Claire''s lip. "Thank you, Mister Tan," she addresses him formally. "I''m keeping an eye on you. Don''t look."

    Jesus, Gabriel mutters, as he tries not to giggle. She''s so cute when she''s being like this. I''ve seen everything, Claire. And I love what I''ve seen. It''s amazing. But I''m not some sleazebag like Jake Magno who would try to take advantage of a nice girl like you.

    Jesus, Claire mutters, as the lady attendant gently disrobes her. After the embarrassment in the bedroom and that weird "mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," she''s no longer sure of what to think and expect. She feels that no matter how much she puts up a fa?ade of independence, half of her wants to surrender everything to him. Every moment is a struggle. And sometimes, Claire thinks if she''s not going to be the one who ends up crazy here.

    "The bathtub is filled with herbs-infused water, Miss Claire," the lady attendant says. "It''s going to rejuvenate not only your skin, but also leave you with a youthful glow. Not that you really need it because you are already so lovely. But you''ll see." She smiles and gestures toward the tub.

    Claire understands. She checks and sees that Gabriel is still turned away from her, waiting for her to get in the tub and out of his view. Then she gingerly steps into the tub. The water is perfectly warm, effusing what some familiar fragrance. She slips into it and lets the water ??r?ss her body.

    "Perfect, Miss Claire," the attendant says. "And now I''m going to fill the tub with these special seaweeds. This is an organic seaweed bath, and one of the world''s most luxurious. It will detoxify you and leave you feeling exquisite."

    She carefully pours the contents of a ziploc bag into the tub''s water. It looks like dried seaweeds. But as it soaks in the water, the seaweeds hydrate and spring back to life. The lady attendant ensures that Claire''s body is completely covered with seaweed.

    "How is it?"

    "It feels¡­strange. But relaxing. Like wet slimy hands are all simultaneously and gently ??r?ssing me," Claire says.

    "And that''s only for starters," the attendant says. "I''ll let you soak for a while. I''ll watch the time. But you''ll discover for yourself the wonderful sensation that this treatment brings."

    Claire could see Gabriel on the massage table. His attendant is placing what seem like pebbles on his back. Gabriel could not see her because his head is in the face hole of the massage bed, and from the looks of it, he might have already dozed.

    Claire sighs. "What are we now, Gabriel?" She touches her lips, trying to remember the sensation of Gabriel''s lips on hers just a few minutes ago. She wonders what would happen to her heart when all this is over. Can she really walk away from this as though nothing happened? When she first signed up for this, she had been warned that her boss is one of the craziest, most eccentric persons you''d ever meet. But now, as she gazes at that man on the massage bed, Claire realizes she''s probably the one being driven crazy. All she does at each moment of her time here is trying to fight this growing feeling, this deepening sense of attachment. And as the luxury seaweed soak does its job to rejuvenate her skin, Claire realizes that even it could not reach her heart and heal its deepening ache.

 Chapter 47 - The Calm before the Storm

    If nerves could kill, she would be dead now.

    Claire has been fidgeting in front of the mirror for a few hours now. Not even Miss Cassandra''s exquisite ensemble of a black conservative dress, and the right set of jewelry could ?ssuage her fears. She''s meeting Gabriel''s mom, the fearsome matriarch of the clan, the de facto decision-maker of half of the companies in their holdings, and for what? To judge her. To peer through her soul and see if she can find anything there worth taking seriously.

    And why would Claire have to be nervous about this meeting? It''s all fake. She''s not a real fianc¨¦e. If it really goes crazy, she''d just tell her the truth: that this was a business arrangement with her son, with no personal feelings involved.

    Or is it?

    The meeting is scheduled at one of the swankiest restaurants in the city, some French place that''s actually called, wait for it, The French Place. Claire has spent the time trying to imagine how it might go down¡ªand she has imagined countless versions, which ultimately ends badly for her. She has no idea what kind of a person Matilde Tan is. All she has are larger-than-life caricatures¡ªabout how, still in her thirties, and with two young kids to raise, Matilde single-handedly founded what would become the cornerstone of the great Tan business empire: a noodle shop. The shop, during the decades of the Cold War, would evolve into a trading firm engaging in the import and export of plastic products, and the plastic products would eventually become transistor radios. Then by the end of the 1980s, the burgeoning Tan business empire would include TV and radio manufacturing, property development (they are now the country''s biggest landlord of office spaces), and heavy industries. A number of bold acquisitions and mergers would further make the Tan empire into one of the most far-reaching organizations in the world.

    That''s Matilde Tan, whose string of achievements almost makes her goddess-like. That''s the woman Claire would be meeting tonight. That''s the woman who really, really likes Michelle Alcantara as her son''s wife¡ªnot this unknown upstart from God-knows-where, not Claire Monteverde with all the fake credentials.

    Just merely thinking about it makes Claire''s throat as parched as a desert.

    Even if Gabriel repeatedly ?ssured her that everything would be fine, she couldn''t stop the bu??erflies in her stomach to flutter like crazy. Even after the two-hour-long spa treatment that should have taken relaxation to out-of-this-world levels, she still could not stop her heart from pounding like mad.

    "I''ll have Lopez fetch you at seven," Gabriel had told her before they parted, leaving Claire presiding alone over a buffet table in her penthouse suite. Not even the fragrant, savory scent of the Residence''s signature fried chicken could calm her down and entice her to take a bite.

    Now, starving and on the verge of tears, Claire''s eyes are bloodshot as she stares at herself in the mirror.

    "Why do I have these problems?" she asks herself. "Why can''t I have normal problems? Not these do-or-die kind of dilemmas that tend to push me over the edge?"

    Because you''re not a regular, normal kind of person, a voice in her head says. You''ve always taken the road less travelled, Claire. You''ve always been some sort of a maverick.

    Because you''re an idiot, another voice says. And strangely, the second voice feels more truthful.

    A quarter before seven, Claire''s already waiting in the lobby of the Residence. Dale''s eyes light up when he sees her. "You''re incredibly stunning tonight, Miss Claire."

    "Don''t fu?k?n? patronize me," Claire snaps, then has a change of heart. "I mean, thank you, Dale. I''m sorry."

    Dale is left standing there, scratching his head.

    If you''d only look at Claire, sitting there in that elegant black dress, you''d think she''s fine. She''s at the top of her game. You''d probably fall in love at first sight. But upon closer inspection, you''d notice the worry in her eyes. How she''d take big gulps of air as she scans the road outside. And how desperately she clutches her Louis Vuitton purse (thanks to Miss Cassandra''s ingenuity) when that all-too-familiar Bentley stops and out comes Lopez, the loyal butler, always prim and proper, and this time, perhaps a bit too stiff for Claire''s nerves.

    "Good evening, Miss Claire," Lopez greets her as she steps out of the Residence. "You look absolutely stunning." He smiles.

    Claire responds with a smile of her own. "And you look quite¡­loyal, thank you." She secretly cringes at what she''d just said. Loyal? Are you running out of adjectives, Claire?

    Claire moves on autopilot, it seems. She slips into the backseat, her mind elsewhere. And almost instantly, as though time magically flies past her, Lopez is opening the door.

    "What''s the matter?" she asks.

    For a moment, Lopez''s brow knits in confusion. "We''re here, Miss Claire."

    "What?"

    "We''re here at the restaurant."

    Claire reluctantly steps out¡ªshe could swear it only took them one second to drive ¡ªand realizes Lopez is telling the truth. Before them is the elegant fa?ade of The French Place; even the doorman looks like he''s paid well.

    Lopez greets the doorman in a familiar way, suggesting he''s a regular visitor. Or at least, this is probably one of Gabriel''s favorite hangouts. The butler politely leads the way into the restaurant''s classy interior. They amble past the main dining room, and instead proceeds into a hallway near the back lined with glass walls through which visitors can see the restaurant''s thousands of vintage wine bottles. A pretty girl greets them by another door, which turns out to be a private dining area.

    Gabriel stands up and greets them. He gives Claire a peck on the cheek, which surprises her¡ªeveryone in the room knows what their arrangement really is, so no need for this fakery.

    There''s no one else in the room, which all the more makes Claire nervous. "Where''s Mom¡ªerr, I mean, your mom?"

    Gabriel sighs. "I have some strange news," he says.

    But before Claire could react, the door swings wide open. They turn; Claire''s heart quivers in her throat, as she fully expects to see an old, mean-looking iron lady. Instead, what she sees is a man younger than Gabriel¡ªand one of the handsomest young men Claire has ever seen.

 Chapter 48 - The Big Meetup

    Claire doesn''t know what to say. Or what to expect. Where''s Matilde Tan? Where''s the grand iron lady, the matriarch of the Tan clan? She came here fully expecting to meet ugly things. Instead, what she encounters is someone who makes her jaws drop.

    "Hello, Gabriel!" The man is all smiles as he gives Gabriel a big hug. "It has been a long time."

    Gabriel laughs, then turns to her. "Claire, I''d like you to meet Miguel, my younger brother."

    "Your¡ª" Claire''s brow is knitted in confusion even as Miguel shakes her hand, if too enthusiastically.

    "So you''re the incredibly lucky girl," Miguel says, his eyes holding her gaze.

    "I¡­I''m not¡­I mean¡­"

    "I know," Gabriel says. "Not what you expected. But that was what I was trying to tell you a while ago."

    "Mom couldn''t make it," Miguel offers. "She has to spend a few more weeks in that hotel in Switzerland to calm her nerves. Her ulcer is acting up again. Her doctor recommends staying away from stress as much as possible."

    "And this is supposedly stressful," Gabriel mutters, shaking his head.

    "Well, you know how Mom is," Miguel says. "Always so controlling, even when her body could no longer keep up."

    "Wait," Claire says, "do you mean your mom isn''t coming tonight?"

    Gabriel makes a big shrug. "You got lucky, I guess?"

    "And she won''t be able to come for at least a couple of weeks?"

    "Yeah."

    That means there''s a big chance Claire won''t even have to meet the iron lady at all¡ªby the time Matilde Tan has fully recovered, Claire''s "work arrangement" with Gabriel would be over, and it would be up to her son to do all the explaining. She couldn''t help but smile at the thought.

    "Why are you smiling?" Gabriel says as they take their places at the dining table.

    It''s Claire''s turn this time to make a big shrug. "I guess I got lucky, indeed."

    The restaurant''s staff begin bringing in food. Gabriel mentions it''s going to be an amazing five-course dinner, but Claire still couldn''t move on. Besides, she couldn''t stop staring at Miguel''s face. She didn''t expect nature could still improve upon Gabriel''s looks, but here Miguel is: a more angelic, s?xier version of Gabriel, if that makes sense. He also wears his hair long, a little past his shoulders, like some rock star from another decade.

    "So Claire," Miguel begins, "how''s my brother treating you?"

    Claire decides to play a little coy. "How do you mean?"

    "Well, Gabriel was notoriously in love with his former fianc¨¦e." He fake-coughs. "And personally, I think two weeks were not enough for a man to suddenly get over his former lover of ten years and declare undying love for somebody new. But I guess, seeing you now in the flesh, I realize why. Any man could fall head over heels for you."

    Despite herself, Claire couldn''t help but blush over that statement. She tries to avoid Miguel''s penetrating eyes, yet each time she glances at him, there he is, staring at her so intently. She smiles, then turns to Gabriel, who''s not smiling at all. In fact, Gabriel''s wearing that scowl she had first seen back at the pool party at the mansion, when Gabriel found him speaking to some sleazy reporter.

    "Miguel," he says. "I don''t think that''s fair that you''re making my fianc¨¦e here feel uncomfortable."

    Miguel''s eyes go round. "Oh, I didn''t mean to! I was just making small talk."

    "Then try to make your small talk much smaller, little brother."

    Miguel frowns; his big brother is trying to put him in his place, like what he used to do back when they were kids. But he''s a grown-up now, and the CEO of his own group of companies. Nobody gives him bullshit like this. And yet. He hasn''t seen Gabriel for years; he hadn''t witnessed what his older brother must have gone through. Maybe it was him who was being insensitive to his brother''s feelings. "Sorry, Gab. You know me. I always end up with my foot in my mouth. So careless! I''ll try to be more careful from now on."

    Gabriel says nothing. An awkward silence fills the air so much that Claire is only too grateful when the main course arrives, the staff accompanied by the French chef himself, who tries his best to explain the meal in detail.

    Halfway through the meal, Gabriel''s mobile phone rings and rings. Irritated, he stands up and leaves the room.

    "Have I offended you, Claire?" Miguel whispers, who happens to be on her left side.

    "Oh, no, not at all," she reassures him. "I''m used to statements like that."

    "That''s good to know," he says. "I''m on your side here, Claire. I''m not an emissary of my mother or anything like that. I came here on my own decision when I heard she couldn''t make it. Truthfully, I was also curious about you. Gabriel is a man of few words as far as his relationship is concerned. I don''t even know the details about what happened between him and Michelle. But when I heard about you straight from my mother''s mouth¡ª''apparently a girl of many talents, advocacies, such an interesting mix of character''¡ªI decided I should personally meet you, especially now that my brother speaks of an impending marriage¡ªan actual wedding, which was something that never happened with Michelle! Imagine that."

    "What?" Claire is dumbstruck. "What marriage? What wedding?"

    "Well, you don''t expect Gabriel to dilly-dally once he proposed to you, do you?"

    "Wasn''t that what he did with Michelle Alcantara for ten years? He dilly-dallied!"

    Miguel laughs. "Yeah, I know. But the surrounding chatter about you is that Gabriel is dead serious."

    "Who''s dead serious?" It''s Gabriel, back from his phone call.

    "Oh, it''s Mom. She''s dead serious about getting her health back," Miguel says, winking at Claire.

    Claire glances away; there''s something about Miguel that makes her so self-conscious. And she''s beginning to hate herself for that¡ªand to think she''s been with this man for less than an hour!

    "Well, ''dead serious'' can become ''pretty dead'' if she doesn''t start taking her health seriously," Gabriel says, stabbing a piece of sauce-drenched meat with his fork. "I''d want Mom to stay healthy, live long, and enjoy her grandchildren."

    "Wow!" Miguel grins from ear to ear. "Grandchildren? As far as I know, I''m not planning on getting married or having kids soon. Whose children would that be?"

    "Mine, of course," Gabriel says, matter-of-factly. "Claire and I are planning to have at least ten kids, five girls and five boys. Aren''t we, honey?"

    Claire is so shocked she almost spits out the water she''s drinking.

 Chapter 49 - The Little Brother

    "Ten kids?" Claire gasps, her mind imagining ten babies consecutively churned out by her poor w?mb. What the hell is this guy talking about? They''ve never mentioned anything like that!

    "Yes, ten beautiful children," Gabriel says, slightly kicking Claire''s foot under the table. "Or would you want more? Let''s make it an even dozen!"

    Claire finally gets it, but even as part of this pretend setup, she couldn''t swallow the pretend facts that Gabriel randomly throws into the conversation. "I''m down for two dozen kids, ''honey'', if that''s what you really want!"

    Gabriel laughs. "A dozen children would be nice, but double that number might be a tiny bit too many." He turns to Miguel. "Exciting times, Migs. So I hope Mom''s going to be fully onboard with these life-changing decisions."

    Miguel says nothing. He smiles, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass. "I¡­I can''t answer for Mom, of course. But I''m sure everything will turn out fine."

    "So you''re saying she''s still recuperating."

    "Yes. You know how she is." Miguel glances at Claire. "You know how she''s taken the news about your former fianc¨¦e. Not that I prefer her. But there she is, being all melodramatic. I''m not even sure if it''s true or not."

    "If she had to cancel her trip, then it must be true," Gabriel says. "She must be really ill. You know how she is, sometimes. She''s like the Asian version of the Tasmanian Devil, running all over the place like the Energizer Bunny with her bottomless energy and enthusiasm. So if she says she has to stay in one place to recuperate, then it must be serious."

    Miguel nods. "I''m sorry I couldn''t be more helpful. She only called me up three hours before I boarded our jet. I wish I could have personally visited her."

    "Well," Gabriel shrugs. "The old lady''s made of the toughest steel. I''m sure she''ll pull through."

    Claire observes them quietly. And frankly, she''s a bit intrigued with how they''re talking about their mother, as though they speak of some lion tamer, and not the woman who raised them. Claire''s relationship with her own mom is the typical functional one, without too much drama¡ªshe loved her, and her mom doted on her growing up. Her mom was her role model in all possible aspects of being a good, strong person¡ªClaire knows her mother''s history, or at least the broad strokes. How her mom used to be such a playgirl, stringing along a bunch of jocks, taking advantage of them, and not the other way around. Which, of course, all stopped when she met her would-be dad. Ah, how she misses her old folks. When this is over, when she gets paid by Gabriel, maybe she''d take the long trip home and visit them, see how they''re doing. They''d be delighted, perhaps shocked, to learn what their little girl, the ugly duckling, did in the city. They must know of Gabriel Tan¡ªhe''s often on the news whenever he opens his mouth because his words tend to affect the behavior of the stock market. They''d be thrilled if they''d learn how she was the fake fianc¨¦e of one of the world''s most eligible bachelors for a month.

    And maybe they''d be sad, too, for the same reason: it was pretend, and lasted only a month.

    Oh, well, Claire thinks. She''ll take what she can get. For now, she''s in the middle of this wonderful meal, in the company of these incredibly good-looking men, talking about one of the world''s leading female tycoons so casually. It''s strange and humbling at the same time.

    "How about you, Claire?" Miguel turns to her. "What are your plans? When are you getting married, really?"

    "That is a question," Gabriel interrupts, "that you should be asking from me, little brother."

    But before Miguel could respond, Gabriel''s phone rings again. He stands up and excuses himself.

    "So," Miguel says, "it seems this lunch date is eighty percent without Gabriel Tan." He smiles. "Is he really this busy? Does he resolve corporate disputes even when he''s with you? Aren''t you worried that he might turn out to be a lousy husband?"

    Claire doesn''t know what to say. She feels she might be treading tricky ground. Maybe these questions should be answered only by Gabriel, as she might inadvertently be revealing too much information. So she shrugs and makes up a little fiction. "Usually he''s all over me. You know your brother¡ªwhen he really likes a person, he wants to give that person all his attention. He''s like a little puppy when he wants to be cute."

    Miguel laughs. "Oh, I don''t know my brother that way. For me, he''s usually aloof, imperious even. As though he''s commanding an army, even when he''s just asking you to fetch him a glass of water."

    "Really?" The image of Gabriel scrambling to find her a dry towel back in the hotel suite comes to Claire''s mind, and makes her smile a little. "I didn''t know that. Gabriel''s usually so sweet." And it''s the truth, too. At least, in the context of the pretend relationship they''re trying to paint for the world.

    "Maybe he has changed," Miguel mutters, sipping his wine. "Maybe you''ve changed him, for good."

    Claire says nothing. How does she answer that? With more fiction?

    The restaurant''s staff enters and whispers something in Miguel''s ear. He frowns. "Gabriel has left. Some emergency thing downtown. Asks me to drive you back home."

    "What?" This is weird and unexpected, Claire thinks. What kind of emergency would compel Gabriel to leave her in this social situation?

    "Don''t worry," Miguel says. "I don''t mind at all. It would be my p???sur? to get to know my brother''s fianc¨¦e."

    "Oh, actually, I have someone who drives me to¡ª"

    "Do you mean the butler, Lopez? He''s with Gabriel. It must be some emergency for them to disappear like that."

    "What did Gabriel say?"

    "Nothing. But we''ll see later. I''m having dinner with him. You''ll also be there, I presume?"

    Claire has never heard of a scheduled dinner tonight. "I''m not sure, but let''s see."

    "So, shall we go?"

    Claire mulls it for a moment, then decides that it doesn''t matter. "Sure."

    A Mercedes Benz sedan is waiting for them as they exit the restaurant. Miguel is polite enough to open the car door for her, but before she could enter, they''re stopped by a woman''s voice.

    "Claire? Claire Monteverde, is that you?"

    It''s Karen, her former roommate, girlfriend of the ?sshole who tried to **** her. And she looks filthy, her dress grimy, like she has been living in the streets.

    "What happened to you?"

    "Claire! I''m sorry. I''m really sorry for what happened. Please, if you¡­" is all Karen is able to say before she suddenly collapses on the ground.

 Chapter 50 - The Interloper

    For a moment Claire is stunned¡ªshe just stands there, staring at Karen''s body on the ground. A bunch of conflicting feelings ?ssault her¡ªresentment, pity, apprehension, confusion. Wasn''t it just days ago when Karen and Russell tried to gang up on her? Which is why she''s living in the Residence now, thanks to Gabriel''s good graces. But then again, you can also take that as a good thing: if Karen wasn''t such a bitch, then she wouldn''t be ejected from the apartment, and wouldn''t be enjoying time in her penthouse suite in that swanky Residence.

    Meanwhile, Miguel is instantly upon Karen, as though he''s about to resuscitate her.

    "Let''s bring her to my place," Claire says as she grabs Miguel''s hand. "We have a doctor there and maybe she needs to have something to eat."

    "Shouldn''t we bring her to a hospital?" Miguel is starting to lift Karen in his arms. "People don''t normally pass out if it''s just nothing."

    It''s really just nothing, Claire wants to say, but she doesn''t want to seem heartless. "The nearest hospital is still farther than my place. How about if we let her rest first and see how she does, then I''ll have my doctor coordinate with the hospital."

    "That sounds like a good plan," Miguel says as he gently places Karen in the car''s backseat.

    On the way to the Residence, Miguel shoots Claire with questions about the unconscious woman. Who is she? What happened to her? Why does she look like she''s wearing the same party dress for days? Is she homeless?

    If Claire had to be brutally honest, she''d give Miguel all the bullshit-free answers. But there''s something about Karen''s sudden reappearance in her life that gives her the screaming mimies. Something''s off. Something''s too contrived to be considered merely coincidental. And she has just met him¡ªClaire doesn''t know what he really wants. She carefully weighs the words that come out of her mouth. "Karen used to be my roommate. But a few days ago, we had a little misunderstanding, so I had to leave."

    "How was she the last time you saw her?"

    There''s genuine concern in Miguel''s voice, and yet, he has just met her. He treats her as though he has known her all his life. That''s maybe the difference between the two brothers, Gabriel and Miguel¡ªthe younger one seems a bit na?ve, too trusting of people, while Gabriel seems too jaded for his own good.

    Claire gazes at Miguel''s eyes, and all she sees is sincerity.

    "The moment the doctor says he could not help, let''s proceed to the hospital, okay?"

    I''m sure she''ll be completely fine, is what Claire almost says, but then again, she doesn''t want to seem heartless; Miguel has no idea what kind of a person Karen is. "Absolutely," she says. "And besides, if she needs first aid, she needs it as soon as possible. Going all the way to the hospital might aggravate things."

    "Sorry," he says, "but where did you say you''re staying again?"

    "The Residence?"

    "The Residence? Where''s that?"

    "It''s the former Ilustrados Hotel downtown."

    "Oh, I know that. Gabriel loved that hotel. He used to take Michelle, err, I mean, his former girlfriend there a lot. They both loved the little fine dining restaurant there. That Michelin-starred place being run by that Italian chef called Gustavo What''s-his-face."

    "What? Michelle knows about that place?"

    "Are you kidding me?" Miguel laughs. "Michelle does not only know about that place. She loved it. They used to occupy the penthouse suite overlooking the park for weeks on end. Why?"

    "Oh, nothing. It''s just that Gabriel seems to have missed mentioning that."

    "Oh, sorry." Miguel looks at her. "Did I touch a nerve? Sorry I talked too much."

    "Oh, no, don''t be sorry at all. It''s nothing." Claire smiles. But inside, she''s fuming. That idiot, Gabriel Tan! Why on earth did he make me settle in the very Ground Zero of the memories he had with that bitch? What is he trying to accomplish? He could have easily made her stay at an actual house, maybe another apartment. No, he made her stay in the Residence. And all this time, Claire thought she was being given some special treatment! That Gabriel went all this way to make her feel as though she mattered.

    Now Claire feels foolish. She almost loved him. Just an hour ago, she''d gaze at Gabriel with such longing. Now as it turns out, she''s just an employee, after all; a pawn in his insane game of human chess. And for what? To get back at the woman who cheated on him¡ªby doing one stupid thing after another.

    She doesn''t say another word until they reach the Residence. Miguel seems to "get" it, somehow, as he didn''t badger her with more questions about Karen. He gets out, opens the door for Claire, then attends to Karen and lifts her in his arms. Claire takes a mental note of how well-toned Miguel''s arms are, like he''s a professional bodybuilder or something.

    Dale meets them in the lobby and instantly he''s calling up for ?ssistance.

    While waiting, Miguel places Karen in one of the plush couches in the lobby. He feels her pulse and decides she''s fine. "Color has returned to her cheeks," Miguel says.

    It never left, Claire thinks, but keeps it to herself. It''s hard not to be cynical when you truly know a person from the inside out. But she decides to let things run in due course; let Miguel realize that for himself.

    Then suddenly, as if roused from a bad dream, Karen opens her eyes and bolts upright, looking around, her eyes going round at the obvious grandeur of her surroundings.

    "Where am I?" Karen begins, her voice hoarse.

    "You''re not yet in hell, obviously," Claire says, smiling at Miguel to reassure him she''s just trying to add some levity in this situation. "But maybe you can start telling us what happened to you."

    Karen stares at Claire for a long moment, as if she''d forgotten who she is and is trying to remember. She touches her face, running her fingers through her raven hair. She gazes at Miguel. "You," she mutters, pointing at him. "I owe you my life."

    Jesus, Claire thinks. If previously she doubted if Karen was just bullshitting them, now Claire''s sure this is all an act¡ªKaren is doing her moves again, and it''s all unfolding right before her eyes. "Karen, stop it¡ª"

    "Claire," Karen says, "I owe my life to you, too. And I''m really sorry. I really am." She begins sobbing; it starts as a pathetic whimper at first, then it rises in intensity until her shoulders heave up and down as she dramatically sobs. "I couldn''t even begin telling you what happened."

    "Well, you can try," Claire says.

    Miguel sits down beside her and puts an arm around Karen, trying to comfort her. "There, there. You''re safe now. If you''re not ready to tell us, it''s fine. Get some rest here. Once you''re rested, I''ll try to contact your friends or anyone you know who can help you."

    "I think there''s no need for that," Karen says, as she stops sobbing. "I''m already here, with one of my good friends. Claire."

    Miguel looks at Claire, who in turn looks at Karen. "Really? We''re friends?"

    "Good friends," Karen says, her tears returning. "We were, until I had the gall to do that nasty thing to you. I should have believed you. I should have followed what my gut said. That man was an ?sshole. He really did try to **** you¡­"

    "What?" Now it''s Miguel''s head''s turn to spin. "Who''s raping whom¡ª"

    "Long story," Claire cuts him. "But it doesn''t matter now."

    "It matters to me, Claire," Miguel says, standing up. "I need to know the story, no matter how long. And if there''s anyone in that story who tries to **** anyone, then I''d like to squeeze his neck with my b?r? hands!"

    Jesus Henry Christ, Claire thinks as he gazes at Miguel. This is going to be a hell of a long freaking day.

 Chapter 51 - The Frenemy

    "My ex-boyfriend tried to **** Claire," Karen sobs. "And that''s the reason why Claire left the apartment we used to share." She turns to Claire. "I''m really sorry for how I behaved. I was blinded by my love for that ?sshole¡ª"

    Yeah, right, Claire thinks.

    "¡ªSo much that even when the truth was obvious, I still believed him. And look how he repaid me!"

    "So what did he do?" Miguel''s voice is surprisingly calm.

    "He dumped me and threw me out of the house," Karen whimpers.

    "How''s that possible? Wasn''t that your apartment?"

    Karen hesitates. She looks at Claire, who gazes back at her coldly. "My ex-boyfriend was the one who paid for everything. He''d asked me to quit my job months ago because he''ll take care of everything I needed. And I believed him!"

    Oh, Jesus, Claire thinks, but keeps her mouth shut. Let Miguel have a taste for this theater.

    "And when that thing with Claire happened, we got into a huge fight after she left. I guess in hindsight he really was interested in Claire, not me. When Claire left, he had no use for me anymore. So everything that he used to provide for me, he took away, like pulling the rug under my feet."

    "Oh, I see," Miguel says, turning to Claire, waiting for some sort of affirmation.

    And yet, Claire says nothing. There''s something about what Karen says that isn''t making a lot of sense. For example, she''d never known Russell to be such a vindictive guy. It''s more probable that the opposite happened¡ªmaybe Karen dumped Russell and started on this path of trying to re-enter Claire''s life, no matter what it takes. But she''s also aware that saying this out loud could make her sound so paranoid¡ªwhat sane person could do something like this? But Miguel doesn''t know that Karen''s not exactly a sane person.

    "Don''t worry," Miguel says, placing a hand on Karen''s shoulder. "Any friend of Claire is my friend, too. If you don''t yet have a place to stay, you can stay in one of my apartments downtown."

    Claire almost yells, "But she''s not my friend!" But she says nothing.

    "Really?" Karen exclaims. "Oh, you''re such an angel!" She stands up and throws her arms around Miguel, who makes a weird face yet accepts the hug.

    "There, there," he mutters. "If you''re hungry, this place has a restaurant, right, Claire?"

    "Ah, yes, I''m sure the chef can accommodate." Claire makes a fake smile. She''ll let Karen stay for a while, see what she''s up to. Yet, she''s a hundred percent sure this woman''s maneuvering for a kill.

    The house doctor arrives along with Dale just as when they''re ushering Karen to the restaurant. The chef is requested to make a hearty, delicious meal for the guest, and they all end up merely watching Karen as she wolfs down a slab of steak. At one point, Miguel playfully comments to Karen that it''s "hard to believe someone as s?xy as you are could eat like a man."

    The comment, of course, doesn''t escape Claire''s notice¡ªit''s official, Gabriel Tan''s younger brother is so quickly enamored with this money-whore.

    Oh, the plot thickens!

    After having her fill, Karen excuses herself to the restroom, leaving Claire and Miguel at the table.

    "Poor girl," Miguel says. "Can you imagine some lowlife dumping a wonderful girl such as she?" He smiles, yet all Claire could think of as she gazes back at him is, "Stupid boy."

    Claire stands up, excusing herself. She finds Karen in the ladies'' room, retouching her makeup.

    "Hi, friend!" Karen cheerfully greets her.

    Claire stares at her in the mirror. "We''re not friends, Karen. So please stop this charade."

    "Oh, my God! You are so vicious!"

    "I''m not kidding," Claire mutters under her breath. "If you''re planning on doing something evil here, I won''t let you."

    Karen sighs. "You''re quite mistaken, Claire. I''m really scraping the bottom of the barrel. I don''t know where to go or how to start again. I''m all spent."

    Claire gazes at her for a long time, a million thoughts running through her head. The good person in her wants to believe Karen''s story; she wants to give this woman a hug and tell her everything''s all in the past and it will be alright. But the cynical side of her keeps on tolling the alarm bells¡ªwhat if this woman is planning to do something and stab her in the back? Who really knows?

    But in the end, no matter what she thinks or what her gut feel is, Claire decides to let Karen think that she believes her. Don''t show her the ace up her sleeves, so to speak. Whatever Karen''s planning, she''ll be in for a surprise.

    Claire smiles finally. "That''s alright, Karen, dear. We''ll help you get back on your feet."

    "Oh, thank you!" Karen gives her a big embrace. "By the way, who''s that pretty, pretty man who helped me?"

    "Isn''t he Gabriel Tan''s brother? Because he somehow looks like Gabriel," Karen says.

    "Uhh, y-yes," Claire says, stifling the alarm bells ringing in her head. "Did you just guess that?"

    Karen giggles. "Oh, yes, I have a talent for ''sensing'' these things! I bet he''s a CEO of his own company, too!"

    Oh, Jesus, how easy it is for Karen to betray her own motives. If Claire previously had any doubt about Karen''s ulterior agenda, now she''s sure¡ªall of this is just an act. Karen''s "fishing" for the next man she''d latch onto. She couldn''t decide if Karen''s just too stupid for her own good that she has no self-awareness at all, or is she just betrayed by her own eagerness? Yet, Claire decides to keep quiet.

    "Yes, he''s a CEO of about a hundred companies," Claire says, smiling sweetly. "And you''re lucky because you''re just his type!"

    "Oh, my God, Claire!" Karen laughs. "Don''t say that! He might hear it."

    We''re here inside the goddamn ladies'' room, so how can he hear it, Claire fumes. But outwardly, she says, "Who cares if he hears it, if it''s the truth, anyway. Believe me, he likes you."

    Karen giggles and takes Claire by the arm as they walk out the ladies'' room. "You''re such an angel, Claire. I promise you we''ll be best friends forever. Do you think Miguel is the marrying type?"

    "Absolutely. He''ll want to make two dozen babies with you." Just like his idiot older brother, Claire secretly fumes, her increasingly confused emotions now pushing her over the edge. Yet, she tries her best to appear fine. "Now be a doll and let''s not mention any of this conversation to the man waiting at the table, shall we?"

    "Pinky swear," Karen chirps.

    "Pinky swear," Claire responds, entwining her pinky finger with that of Karen, like a couple of tweens at summer camp. But deep inside, Claire thinks, "Pinky swear, my beautiful ?ss."

 Chapter 52 - The Nonstop Rollercoaster

    "Oh, Miguel, you''ve waited for me," Karen beams as they arrive back at the table.

    "Of course," the man says. "I''m bringing you to your new place, right? I''ll help you get back on your feet."

    "That''s so nice of you," Karen says. "Are all the Tan brothers so helpful and thoughtful like Miguel, Claire? Because if they are, then you really must not let him get away." She playfully punches Claire on the arm.

    Claire merely smiles¡ªit''s her only way to stop her mouth from saying angry things like, Oh, you money-whore, at it again, aren''t you? Turning on the charm to lasso men like Miguel? Men who are stupid enough to fall for your gold-digging ?ss? If only I can put my arms around you and hug you so tightly until I hear the faint sound of your little bones crunching, I would!

    But then again, all Claire actually says is, "You''re lucky, Karen, that you were at the right place and the right time when you fainted, right when we''re coming out of that restaurant."

    "Yes, I was lucky," Karen smiles.

    When Miguel stands up, Karen latches on his arm, as though there''s already some "mutual understanding."

    Claire watches it, outrage bubbling just underneath her veneer of politeness. "Take care, you two."

    "Oh, I''m quite sure Migs will take really good care of me, won''t you, Migs?"

    Miguel nods, but in the corners of his mouth, does Claire detect a hint of uneasiness?

    Miguel and Karen are long gone but Claire''s still sitting at the restaurant''s table, the lone guest in this lavishly appointed sea of empty dining tables. There''s so much conflicting emotion in her ?h?st that she''d rather sit out here, than face the gloom of her suite alone. At least she knows Dale and the restaurant''s staff are discreetly watching her, alert for anything she might need. Although there''s nothing they could do for the only thing she needs right now: inner peace.

    For one, she couldn''t get over the fact that Gabriel stationed her here where much of his memories with Michelle Alcantara reside. She tried to shrug it off a while ago, convincing herself that perhaps it''s just one of Gabriel''s many eccentricities. Maybe these insane, quirky decisions are what make Gabriel the man that he is. Maybe there''s more to them than meet the eye? But then again, she can''t deny that she has feelings, too¡ªand her heart is telling her that maybe she doesn''t really matter. The rare gentleness that Gabriel would let her feel was nothing but a product of her own imagination, delusion even.

    And now this: Miguel who walks off with one of the most ridiculous women she has ever encountered on the very first day she meets him. There''s something about Miguel that strikes her as very attractive¡ªsomething about those eyes, or the way his dimples faintly appear whenever he smiles. And he does smile a lot more than his older brother. And yet, he also seems too gullible, too impressionable for her taste. How could he not realize what Karen was doing? Or maybe Karen should somehow get credit for being so subtle in the art of gold-digging?

    Ah, all these worries are giving her a headache. She''s not sure if Gabriel needs her tonight at that dinner Miguel mentioned. Tomorrow, she needs to keep up with the pretense and go to the office as "Bella." And she doesn''t know yet when Michelle would strike again, or how Gabriel is planning to settle it with Michelle once and for all. Because Claire''s days as his fake fianc¨¦e are numbered¡ªpretty soon, these would be over. They would all have to return to their old lives. She just hopes she could live normally again.

    Dale, as always, is attentive. "Would you like me to call your chauffeur, Miss Claire?"

    "Don''t bother, Dale. I''ll just take a walk."

    Thankfully, it''s not too hot outside. The sky is overcast. The weather''s actually lovely. She has walked a block when she realizes her high-heeled shoes are killing her. She takes them off and just carries them. She''s still wearing fashionable clothing, so people look at her and dismiss her as some rich eccentric¡ªmaybe the daughter of some business tycoon on a rare day out without her bodyguards. If only they know, she thinks.

    A door swings open and out stumbles a woman with a large cup of coffee in hand. The woman curses; in her purse is a small dog who tries to peep out; it seems to be asking for help. Claire looks up and realizes it''s Starbucks, the same place she''d take coffee for Gabriel. On impulse, she enters it and walks straight to the counter. And coincidentally, there''s no line of people.

    "Hello," the barista, whose nameplate says, "Brad," cheerfully greets her.

    "Hi," Claire says. "You remember me?"

    The barista''s eyes gleam with recognition. "Of course! Gabriel Tan''s girl Friday! Do you need your day''s supply of grande, quad, nonfat, one-pump, no-whip mocha?"

    "Oh, my God, you remember!"

    "I forget nothing and no one. Especially customers who are as pretty as you."

    She secretly cringes inside her, but smiles. "Yes, one of those, please."

    "Coming right up," he says, and yet he stays there, just gazing at her.

    Claire notices it. "Is there something wrong?"

    The barista sighs. He points at his nameplate. "My name is Brad, and my shift is over in about a minute. So you''ll be the last customer I''m serving for the day. So is it possible if¡­ Uhh, if I ask you for coffee?"

    Claire giggles. "I''m already buying one. From you."

    "Yeah, I know. But I mean, not as a barista and customer, but you know, maybe as friends."

    "You want to be friends with me? Why?"

    And Claire was not being demeaning or anything; she''s really just surprised.

    "Why not?" Brad says. "Ever since you came in here a few days ago, I''ve been waiting for you to come back. But you didn''t. And I thought I won''t see you again. But now that you''re here, I can''t risk losing you again."

    Oh, my God, Claire thinks. Lose me again? What is happening in this world? Why is everyone so suspiciously romantic? She''s on the verge of dismissing him¡ªa lot of things have happened today and all she wants is a nice tall glass of coffee, and she''s just curious to try the kind of concoction Gabriel Tan seems so very fond of¡ªbut Brad stands there smiling, and he''s not bad-looking at all. In fact, if you''d meet him on the street, you''d give him a second or third look¡ªhe has that boyish charm that Claire finds irresistible. Claire mulls the offer for a second. Technically, she is single. This Gabriel Tan thing is a job. Maybe she should look at things in the long term, keep her options¡ªand her mind¡ªopen.

    "Well, alright. Process that coffee order and let''s find a table. Just talk."

    The joy in Brad''s face is instantaneous. "Sure, Ma''am, one exceptionally complicated coffee coming right up!"

    And as Claire watches Brad work, admiring how deftly he handles all the implements of his trade, how quick and sure his movements are, she thinks to herself, "Why not, indeed?"

 Chapter 53 - The Craving

    This is shaping up into a long and toxic day, Gabriel realizes. Jake Magno is pressing charges¡ªthe nerve of that ?sshole. Imagine that? He tries to **** Claire, yet he still has the liver to transvaluate everything, even accusing him of setting him up. Well, what can you expect from the biggest snake in town?

    Jake''s major accusation is that Gabriel beat the shit out of him right in his own home, all without plausible reason. He says he''d just brought home the woman, Bella, because she had passed out in the restaurant, with no intention of doing her any harm.

    Gabriel shakes his head as he mentally recounts these details. What an idiot! He has all the evidence, the drug in her system, the highly suspicious circumstances surrounding her unconscious presence in Jake''s house. She has no reason to be there. And he found her in a compromising position¡ªher blouse unbuttoned, looking every inch like the helpless prey. If he was even late by a few more minutes, God knows what Jake Magno would have accomplished.

    Gabriel isn''t really worried about the charges themselves¡ªhe''s just concerned that all this shit would leak to the media, attracting attention nobody wants. People would start prying into the real identity of Bella Xavier, and that could really escalate things.

    "You destroyed my face," Jake spat at him at the police station, right before he posted bail. "I''ll make sure you pay for this."

    Gabriel swallowed his anger; these delicate times require an incredible amount of patience. "What do you want, Jake?"

    "I want you and me in a room for five minutes where I can do to you more than what you''ve done to me."

    Gabriel ground his teeth; patience, patience, man. "Really, what do you want?"

    Jake stared at him long and hard. "I want just compensation, Mr. Gabriel Tan."

    Everyone is indeed for sale, Gabriel thought. "Give me a number."

    Jake Magno said nothing; he paced the room, occasionally throwing Gabriel his dagger glances. He touched his bandaged face. "My lawyer will contact you. Be ready."

    "Sure," Gabriel said. "Our lawyers will talk. But let me tell you something, Jake. Make sure you fulfill your end of the bargain."

    Jake scoffed. "And what would that be?"

    "That in exchange for whatever sum your head can think of, you will never set foot in this city ever again. Or you will have to face the consequences."

    "Don''t threaten me, Mr. Tan."

    "That''s not a threat at all, Jake," Gabriel said coldly. "I''m describing what will happen to you, in the simplest terms you may understand."

    Gabriel drives alone on a side road, on his way back to his office at the TXCI building, and he''s still grinding his teeth. This is what he''s been trying to avoid. He should have managed Claire''s role better. What was he thinking, throwing her in that viper pit of an office with all her sheer hotness, and expect that people won''t find her attractive, that she''d just work under the freaking radar? Is it wise to simply make Bella Xavier vanish, just like that? People won''t wonder¡ªthey''re used to her previous ?ssistants suddenly walking out, never to go back.

    But then again, there may be some wisdom, some strategic value in having Claire work as his own personal spy in his office. She could access circles of conversation he couldn''t normally tap. He''s the boss; his employees don''t talk to him with the same honesty as they would with colleagues, especially with a colleague they''re trying to seduce. There''s a lot of truth that can potentially come out of this.

    Okay, he decides, as he makes a turn toward the main street, a few blocks from the office. He''ll keep Bella Xavier, the character, functioning. He''ll compensate Claire for this extra exposure. But he must have some serious talk with her. That kind of thing with Jake Magno¡ªthat must never happen again. Not even in the slightest. He must develop an airtight system, something that must ensure Claire''s safety, above all else. Because if something happens to Claire, God help him, but he won''t be able to forgive himself.

    Ah, Claire. What is it about that woman? As days go by, he discovers things¡ªboth big and small¡ªthat erode his hatred of women, especially after what Michelle did to him. Claire seems to be¡ªwithout her realizing it, just by being herself¡ªdifferent. Gabriel Tan has never met anyone like her. "But I am still a v?r??n, sir," Claire said once, during one of their awkward conversations, and Gabriel smiles at the memory. Such naivet¨¦. She''s all woman and all girl at the same time.

    What if there''s a future in this? What if this could continue, even beyond the arranged time? What if this doesn''t only last thirty days, but years. Maybe a lifetime? Maybe. But Gabriel doesn''t allow himself to hold on to hope. He has been hurt before. He''s not ready to open himself up again.

    But still. Each day brings with it new surprises. That scene in the penthouse suite, seeing her all n?k?d like that. Not to mention putting his own life on the line just to save her from a monster like Jake. What does it all mean? Was it all for nothing? No. There are a few things he must fix in his life¡ªMiguel, Michelle, her own mother Matilde¡ªbut who''s to say he couldn''t do all the fixing all at the same time? What if he could have Claire in his life, never let her go?

    He''s at an intersection waiting for the light to go green, when he realizes he''s thirsty. He needs some cold beverage. He looks around¡ªthere''s a Starbucks in the corner. Gabriel has no idea of where his people get his favorite caffeine drink, so he has no idea of what this particular Starbucks'' importance is in his life.

    He leisurely parks his Benz sedan in front of the coffee shop. He only wants one thing: grande, quad, nonfat, one-pump, no-whip mocha. But he''s been standing in line for minutes when he looks around and notices a very familiar profile sitting at a table, laughing with some ripped dude.

    It''s Claire. And she looks like she''s enjoying the company of this unknown dude. What in hell? He''d just left her in the company of his brother, Miguel. How come she''s here, with a different man? A man he has never met?

    He feels a surge of anger. Or jealousy. Or wait, is it confusion? Doesn''t matter, because even as he tries to settle his feelings, he''s walking toward Claire''s table so fast that he doesn''t notice that a stupid chair is in the way¡ªbecause if he did, he wouldn''t have tripped and fall upon Claire''s very table like the world''s biggest idiot.

 Chapter 54 - The Big Idiot

    Something big and heavy smashes Claire''s table, and it shocks the bejesus out of her. She screams. And to her surprise, Brad "screams" too. He screams for a few moments until he realizes he''s still screaming even when Claire is not.

    The table and everything on it get upended, and the man who hit it struggles to get up, trying to get off the table cloth that covers him. The man stands up, apologizing.

    Brad stares at the man, and his jaw drops. "Mr. Tan? Is that you?"

    Gabriel smoothens his suit and tries to regain his bearings.

    "Gabriel?" Claire could not believe it. "What are you doing here?"

    Gabriel Tan stands there in his usual defiant way, like he''d just came out of a board meeting¡ªexcept there''s coffee all over his suit and there''s a dead flower in his hair. "Hello. I''m just here to, uhh, to pick up my coffee."

    "Your coffee? Why didn''t you tell me?" Claire tries her best not to laugh in his face. She stands up and carefully plucks out the flower in his hair, which had come from the vase that moments ago adorned the table. "I could have fetched it for you."

    "Well, I was in the area, anyway," he says, trying to act cool, which would have worked if his suit weren''t drenched in coffee. "So I thought I''d hop out and get it myself."

    Claire stares at him for a moment¡ªthis is the first time she sees him as a "regular" human being, away from the context of his power. She takes a tissue and tries to wipe the coffee off his clothes, to no avail. It doesn''t work, yet she perseveres, liking the feeling of "taking care" of him in a most personal way.

    Gabriel, on the other hand, allows her. There''s not much he could do anyway, except to shut up. How does he explain the clumsiness that just happened? Everyone in the coffee shop is staring at them.

    A man approaches them. "Is everything alright here?" He turns to Gabriel. "Are you alright?"

    Gabriel looks at his nameplate, which says, "Hi, I''m Mike, Manager." "Everything''s fine, uhh, Mike. I''ll pay for all the damage."

    "Are you sure?" He makes a gesture about the mess around them. The truth is, the table''s not really destroyed, and apart from the spilled sugar, cinnamon, and what-have-you, there''s no real damage. But Mike the Manager recognizes the opportunity being offered by this public spectacle¡ªthis clumsy man in his fancy suit could be humiliated to pay good money, which would all go to his own pocket. "But what about the damage to our property? Who''s gonna pay for all this?"

    Gabriel looks at the man. His weakness is his inability to judge people when he''s in love with them, but truly, Gabriel has been an effective CEO and leader of men because of his singular talent to discern human character. One look at Mike the Manager and Gabriel knows what he''s up to. He also owns companies¡ªhe knows when something is damaged, for Pete''s sakes.

    "How much do you think this is going to cost?" Gabriel asks.

    Mike the Manager shrugs. "Damage cost might be a bit expensive."

    Brad, who actually works for Mike, tries to save the situation. "But, sir, I don''t think¡ª"

    --"You don''t think, Brad," Mike cuts him off, "because you''re staying out of this."

    "I don''t think there''s any real damage here," Claire says. "We only have this cleaned and¡ª"

    "Don''t talk when you''re not spoken to, Miss¡­"

    That''s it, Gabriel thinks. I''ve seen enough shit. "Alright Mike the Manager, how much would this cost?"

    Mike scratches his non-existent beard and appears to be deep in thought. "Well," he says, "If we have to replace this damaged table, and all the other accessories, maybe¡­North of nine hundred bucks."

    "Nine hundred?" Claire exclaims.

    "But sir," Brad says.

    "Nine hundred bucks?" Gabriel repeats. He takes out his phone, dials a number. "Leo, Gabriel here," he says. "Don''t you own the Starbucks on Lacson and 101st? Yes, that same one. What say you to selling it to me? Yes, the whole thing, at a fifty percent profit. Oh, nothing, just want to make a statement. I''ll have Jane call you in a moment to work out the details, okay?"

    While this is happening, Mike the Manager sneers at Gabriel. "What bullshit is this," he mutters, not believing a thing about the phone call.

    "Yes, thank you, Leo. Appreciate it," Gabriel says. "By the way, can you call your manager and inform him about this sudden transfer of ownership? Okay? Thanks, Leo."

    "I don''t believe a word of it," Mike says. "You''re full of shit, whoever you are."

    "But sir, don''t you know him?" Brad interjects.

    Mike scowls. "Do I know him? Of course, I don''t! And I don''t care. All I care about is he pays the damage he''s wrought on this place."

    Gabriel smiles. "Your boss will call you in a few moments."

    "That''s bull¡ª" Mike almost says, but his pants'' pocket rings. His eyes widen, as he curiously takes out his phone. He sees who''s calling, and his whole face knits in confusion. "Hello, sir? How do you¡ªoh, sorry sir. Sorry, sir. Yes, understood sir. The very same person standing here? Oh, my god, I didn''t know. But, sir¡­ Alright, sir. Absolutely, sir."

    Mike the Manager''s face is white as sheet as he ends the phone call. "Mr. Gabriel Tan," he mutters. "Why didn''t you tell me who you were? I could have given you a complimentary coffee and dry cleaning of your¡­of your suit. We could have¡ª"

    "That''s what I was trying to tell you earlier, sir," Brad says.

    "You were asking me who this man is, not telling me," Mike fumes, then turns to Gabriel with a wide smile. "I deeply apologize, Mr. Tan. Please don''t mind the table. I can¡ª"

    "Don''t worry, Mike," Gabriel says. "From now on, you''re working for me. New rules." Then he announces to everyone in the coffee shop. "But first, give everyone here a Venti glass of their choice of beverage, on the house!"

    The crowd cheers.

    Mike counts the crowd. "But sir, there''s easily around fifty people here. Are you sure we''re giving aw¡ª"

    "Shut up, Mike, and start cranking out coffee," Gabriel says. "Now!"

    "And you," Gabriel says, taking Claire''s hand. "You come with me."

    They''re already gone but Brad is still standing there, scratching an imaginary itch on his head.

 Chapter 55 - The Spanish Fly

    "Did you really buy that coffee place, just like that?"

    Claire could still not believe it.

    They''re in Gabriel''s car, on the way back to the Residence.

    "Why not?" Gabriel says. "I''ve been a patron of that place for years. I should have bought it ages ago, just to control the source of my coffee. Now everyone at that place is at my beck and call."

    Claire says nothing. She''s totally conflicted. On one hand, she''s impressed at how powerful Gabriel really is when he''s ticked; on the other hand, she''s worried about the people working at that coffee place. Are they going to be fine? Won''t Gabriel look at them as targets of his revenge, just to get even with Mike the Manager? "What about the caf¨¦''s employees? Would they be fine?"

    Gabriel looks at her and smiles. "What were you thinking? Of course, they''d be fine. I''m actually improving their employee benefits and perks. I noticed some of the people there have been working there for years. I''ll make sure they''d be fine even in the years to come, with good retirement benefits."

    "Even the manager?"

    "Yes, even the manager," Gabriel says. "I''m not a small-minded person, Claire."

    Oh, that''s rich coming from you, Claire thinks. Isn''t hiring me to get back at your ex-fianc¨¦e the very hallmark of small-mindedness? But Claire keeps her mouth shut.

    "I understand human tendencies," Gabriel continues. "Maybe Mike was acting that way because the pay isn''t so good."

    "Or maybe he''s just corrupt," Claire says.

    "Maybe," Gabriel shrugs. "But that''s beside the point."

    "You could have just paid the nine hundred bucks and be done with it," she says.

    "Sure," he says. "I could have paid that, or I could have paid ten thousand. It doesn''t matter. But I made that split-second decision not only to put that man in his place, but also maybe have direct control over something that has delighted me over the years. Call me sentimental, but I feel the coffee I get from that particular Starbucks is special."

    I know how special their coffee is to you, Claire almost says. Remember how I made the mistake of buying black coffee and you smashed it against the wall? Fond memories, Claire thinks.

    As they sit in traffic, a man raps on the car window. Gabriel rolls it down.

    "Hi, sir, would you like to buy flowers for the pretty lady?"

    The man has several long-stemmed roses, which he holds aloft. It''s obvious that sales have not been spectacular, as most of the flowers show signs of wilting.

    "I''m sorry, but¡­" Gabriel starts to speak, but he stops and turns to Claire, who is looking out the other window, deep in thought. He looks at the man for a moment. "How much is everything?"

    The man''s face lights up. "Are you sure, sir?"

    "Yes, the whole thing."

    The man makes quick calculations, then breathlessly tells Gabriel the total price. Without batting an eyelash, Gabriel pays the man triple of what he asked for.

    "What are you doing?" Claire asks just as Gabriel takes the flowers.

    "Well, uhh, these are all for you." He presents to her the roses, as though it has been planned. "Thank you for everything."

    "Are you serious?"

    "Claire, you''ve been a good sport through everything." On Gabriel''s mind, Claire doesn''t yet know the impending trouble with Jake Magno, nor what his mother Matilde can do when she finally is able to fly down. "So I hope this little gesture will remind you of my word. That whatever is stated in the Red Contract, I''ll do more."

    "Are we talking about money? Because I don''t¡­"

    "No, this is more than just money or compensation, but a lot more. You''ll find out in due time." He smiles.

    "Uhh, sir," the flower seller bu??s in. "I''m also selling a few bottles of Spanish fly here."

    "What?" Claire''s curiosity is piqued. Also, she couldn''t help but notice the man has been listening to their conversation. "What Spanish fly?"

    "It''s an aphrodisiac, ma''am," the man flashes a toothless smile. "For, you know, s?xytime."

    "What s?xy¡ª"

    "It''s for the¡­" Gabriel begins, but whispers the rest in her ear.

    Claire''s eyes widen. She bursts out laughing, and playfully punches Gabriel in the arm. "And why would we even need that?"

    "You''ve heard the lady, mister," Gabriel turns to the man. "We don''t need that because we''re already deliriously satisfied with our ''sexytime''."

    The man is still grinning even as Gabriel rolls up the window.

    "How dare you say that," Claire giggles. "I''m a v?r??n, Mr. Tan. Please don''t make these jokes at my expense." Yet, she laughs.

    Gabriel smiles. For some reason, mention the word "virgin" and he''s transported back to the bedroom in her suite earlier, when he found her n?k?d. Mention the word "virgin," and he''s transported back to last night, when he almost arrived too late at Jake Magno''s house. More and more, these little things seem to erode his hardened exterior and show his softer side.

    "And did you just buy everything from that man?" Claire almost couldn''t see him because she''s holding all the flowers in her arms.

    "Well, not everything. Because, you know, the Spanish fly."

    Claire ignores the last comment. "You''re on a roll, Mr. Tan! You''ve been buying up entire businesses today! But I have to warn to warn you, though. Remember Karen?"

    "Karen? Who''s that?"

    "My flatmate, remember?"

    "Oh, that. With that guy who tried to harm you."

    "Yeah. And guess what happened earlier?"

    "She also tried to **** you?"

    "Aw come on, be serious!"

    Gabriel snickers. "Alright, what is it?"

    Claire tells him everything, even the little details. Except, of course, her own inkling of what Karen is really up to.

    "And he''s with Miguel now?" Gabriel says. "Classic Miguel, always with the bleeding heart save-the-world machismo."

    "I don''t know what to say," Claire mutters. "But is Miguel really that impressionable?"

    Gabriel laughs. "Not really, Claire. Miguel is also fond of playing games. He''s generally bored with life. He gets girls so easily, as you can guess. So he loves playing these little games."

    "Seriously? Because that not how it seemed."

    "Yeah, I''m serious," Gabriel says. "And you''ll get a front seat to Miguel'' spectacular show. You''ll see it all at dinner tonight. So don''t blink."

 Chapter 56 - The Virgin Princess

    "Why are my days so very busy?" Claire speaks to her reflection in the mirror, as Miss Cassandra fixes her hair.

    "Aren''t we all?" Miss Cassandra says, smiling. "I''d rather have your kind of busy than my kind of busy."

    "Well, what''s your kind of busy?"

    Miss Cassandra sighs. "Working with the world''s top fashion houses isn''t exactly a walk in the park, Miss Claire. You have to deal with either idiots or ?ssholes on a daily basis."

    And here I thought life amid haute couture is just like that¡ªsomething to die for, Claire thinks.

    "But these moments when I have to come down just to gives you your OOTD¡ª"

    "What''s OOTD?"

    "Oh," Miss Cassandra laughs. "It''s ''outfit of the day'' for social media folks."

    "Oh, I see."

    "As I was saying, doing your outfit of the day is the high point of my work. I actually enjoy it. Honestly."

    "Thank you," is all Claire manages to say, for lack of anything else. Miss Cassandra has been nothing but kind to her, even right at the start. Even when she doesn''t have to¡ªshe''s one of the few people who know about her deal with Gabriel Tan. She''s technically an employee, just like her, but Miss Cassandra treats her like some princess.

    "Now for tonight''s dinner with the brothers, I think we should play it daring, maybe a bit glamorous," Miss Cassandra says. "Remember, you''re Claire Monteverde, that rarest of gems that someone like Gabriel Tan had the good fortune to pluck out of the heavens. We should always dress to serve as an aspiration for ordinary folks. Especially in public."

    "You''ve lost me at ''rarest of gems'', but I think I get what you''re saying," Claire laughs.

    Miss Cassandra rifles through her wardrobe, and picks out one. "This! This is perfect for tonight," she says, showing a purple body-hugging lacy dress that will not only show off Claire''s killer figure, but will also strategically show skin without being s?utty. "Then let''s pull your hair in a messy bun, pair the whole thing with some lightly shaded stilettos, then I think we have the star of the night."

    "I completely trust your fashion sense, Miss Cassandra. Thy will be done."

    Miss Cassandra laughs. She slips into the walk-in wardrobe for a second, and comes out with a classy clutch bag. "This should complete your look, Miss Claire."

    "I don''t know what to say."

    "Then say no more!" Miss Cassandra laughs. "This dinner, what is it for?"

    Claire shrugs. "I''m not sure, but perhaps it''s mainly a social thing. The Tan brothers don''t just visit each other and chat about life in general, like normal people do. Apparently, they can only do that in a social setting, like this dinner. So I presume they''d talk about their mother, my engagement with Gabriel, plans for the future, things like that."

    "I wonder how Gabriel would navigate the conversation when you come to the topic of your ''engagement''. It must be like walking on a field strewn with landmines."

    "Yeah, it''s tricky," Claire agrees. "I don''t really know what the big plan is, or until when this would all last. Sometimes I wonder about the point of this all."

    Miss Cassandra says nothing.

    "Do you know Miguel''s bringing my former flatmate, Karen?" Claire says.

    "Really? Was that the one you told me about? With the rapist boyfriend?"

    "Technically it was attempted ****, but yes, that''s the one."

    "Has Miguel run out of classy girls that he''s consorting with whores now?" says Miss Cassandra so passionately that Claire couldn''t help but giggle.

    "I don''t know, too. He''s like instantly smitten. Too bad because he looks kind of cuter than Gabriel."

    "Yeah, you know that, girl," Miss Cassandra giggles. "It''s like as if God were not totally satisfied with how Gabriel turned out, so he corrected all the little mistakes and came up with Miguel."

    "That''s funny," Claire says. Honestly, though, although Miss Cassandra is right as far as physical beauty is concerned, there''s still something about Gabriel that makes Claire''s heart choose him. Some sense of inner gravity. Or charisma. Or maybe she''s just drawn more to the type of man who doesn''t suffer bullshit. Unlike Miguel, who''s probably the least discerning person he has ever met.

    "By the way, where is the dinner happening?"

    Claire shrugs. "Gabriel said he''d surprise me."

    After finishing Claire''s hair and putting on her the lacy dress, Miss Cassandra asks her to stand and turn before the life-sized mirror. The sight of her own reflection is breathtaking, even for Claire, and she''s not normally the narcissistic type.

    "I look stunning," Claire says.

    "Yeah, safely stunning," Miss Cassandra says. "Classy, but with a little edge. It''s like you''re saying, you''re a classy lady who knows how to have some fun, if you know which bu??ons to push, but that you only let the right one in, and not everyone''s welcome."

    Claire turns to look at her. "That was good, Miss Cassandra. It''s like you''re a poet, but with dresses."

    Miss Cassandra grins. "I guess you can say I''m an OOTD poet."

    Both of them laugh.

    There''s a knock on the door. Miss Cassandra opens it, while glancing at her watch. It''s Dale.

    "You''re right on time," Miss Cassandra says.

    "Snappy is the new s?xy," Dale says snappily. "Mister Tan is already at the Residence''s threshold, madam, waiting for her princess."

    "That''s not only corny, Dale," Claire says, trying to stop herself from laughing. "It''s cornichon. Who says ''threshold'' these days, and I''m no princess."

    "A tigress, more like," Miss Cassandra adds. "But let us not keep the prince waiting at the ''threshold'', shall we? We don''t want to spoil the night."

    Claire stands, takes one last look at herself in the mirror. When she holds her gold-accented clutch bag like so, she really looks so far from the old Claire from the block. She''s like a different person. Like a real princess. "The v?r??n princess," Gabriel would have said.

    "Thank you, Miss Cassandra," Claire says, throwing her arms around the fashion stylist. "You''re like my fairy godmother each and every time. I owe you so much for this success."

    "We''re all in this together," Miss Cassandra says, and winks at her. "Until the end. Until the fulfillment of the Red Contract. And more importantly, beyond it."

    Claire gazes at her friend, her heart full of gratitude. Without Miss Cassandra''s impeccable sense of style, her talent, Claire would be committing one fashion atrocity after another, and there''s no chance she could have pulled it off. People would easily through her as some ordinary girl who couldn''t tell one fashion brand from another. "Thank you so much," she mutters. "For always making me look stunning."

    When Claire steps out into the early evening air, Gabriel is already waiting there, standing by the car. And she''s actually right: she really looks stunning, as Gabriel does indeed look stunned.

 Chapter 57 - The Girl from Ipanema

    "You look¡­good," Gabriel says as he opens the door for Claire.

    "Thank you, Mr. Tan," she says, smiling.

    For some reason, Claire''s beauty bothers him¡ªthere''s something he couldn''t quite put a finger on. He''s so distracted as he drives that he b?r?ly speaks, prompting Claire to actually say, "Is everything alright?"

    Nothing''s right, he almost says. But he just smiles. As he makes a turn toward the main road, Gabriel slowly realizes why: Claire Monteverde is extremely attractive. And he''s bothered because even now, he''s trying to maintain distance, trying to enforce his unwritten rule between boss and employee. But while technically, Claire''s in his employ through some made-up bullshit plan to exact revenge on his ex-fianc¨¦e, each time he sees this woman, all dolled up courtesy of his own directive to his personal fashion stylist, his heart goes aflutter. But he must not show it.

    And Jesus, why does she smell so good?

    "By the way, where are we going tonight?" Claire says, smiling.

    His mind blanks out for a second. "Uhh, that Italian place. Maroni''s."

    "Isn''t that the restaurant on the rooftop of some building?"

    "No," Gabriel says, "Err, I mean, yes. Yes, that''s the one."

    "I''m excited," Claire giggles. "I''ve only read about it. I''ve never been there. Couldn''t afford it, obviously."

    "The world is now your oyster, Claire, I promise," he says. "From now on, you get access to all the finest things in life."

    Claire makes a weird smile. "From now on until the thirtieth day, you mean, Mr. Tan?"

    Did he hear an almost inaudible sigh?

    "Well," he begins, "let''s see."

    Claire gazes at him for a moment too long, then she looks out the window, so sad and beautiful.

    "My brother and I love that Italian place," he says. "We usually spend our significant dinners there. It was there were I¡­"

    Where I announced my engagement with Michelle, is what Gabriel almost says, but he catches his mouth at the last moment.

    Claire doesn''t seem to be listening, anyway. She''s humming some tune, a familiar one that feels like a sad love song. Before long, the humming slowly turns into timid singing, as what Claire has a tendency to do.

    "¡­and young and tan and lovely

    The girl from Ipanema goes walking

    And when she passes

    Each one she passes goes ''ahhh''."

    Gabriel turns to her and smiles. "I know that one," he says, and sings along with her.

    "When she walks, she''s like a samba

    That swings so cool and sways so gently

    That when she passes, each one she passes goes ''ooh''."

    They both giggle. Gabriel taps the car''s entertainment screen, addresses the in-car system with, "Play The Girl from Ipanema." And immediately, the song plays. They both sing along to the lyrics, and when they reach the third stanza, Gabriel notices that Claire''s singing it with much more emotion, as if she''s singing it from the bottom of her heart.

    "But I watch her so sadly

    Yes, I would give my heart gladly

    But each day, when she walks to the sea

    She looks straight ahead, not at me."

    As the song tapers down to its conclusion, Gabriel gazes at her. "I''ve been a Jobim fan ever since he died in 1994. I love every song he made. Listening to them feels like I''m transported back to a long-lost time of innocence, and the only way I could bring it back is by listening to these songs."

    "Me, too," Claire says. "Although I discovered him long after he''s gone. I found an old CD of the Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto album in the bargain bin of an old record shop. I had no idea what it was but the title intrigued me. And when I heard it, I was instantly hooked." She smiles. "It has been my refuge song ever since."

    "Refuge song?"

    "Yeah. The song I sing whenever I feel sad."

    "Wait, are you sad now? You just told me you were excited a while ago."

    Claire, of course, couldn''t tell him the reason for her melancholy¡ªhim mentioning that everything she''s enjoying has a lifespan of only thirty days. That this happiness and excitement shall end, and shall end soon. But all she says is, "I don''t know. I just felt like singing it, for no reason at all."

    In the few days that they''ve been together, Gabriel has already known Claire, including her small quirks, and he knows the song was not "for no reason at all." But at this point, he doesn''t want to navigate this emotional landmine. He feels it''s not a good idea at all to descend with her into a deep pit of some un-nameable sadness, especially now that they''re having dinner with his brother. It''s supposed to be a happy reunion. It''s his way to compensate for having to leave the meal earlier.

    "I''m curious about Karen, too," he says. "I wonder what Miguel has in mind."

    "Are we really getting the front seat to a great show?" Claire teases. "Because that''s the only thing I''m hoping to witness."

    Gabriel shrugs. "With Miguel, anything''s possible." Including massive fu?k-ups, he thinks, but doesn''t say it out loud.

    Claire sighs. Her mind is wracked with so much worry. And her greatest fear: what if Karen tells on her, tells Miguel who she really is? That she''s not the CEO of some company, as Gabriel so brazenly advertised to the world? That she''s really of humble origin, that this is just a job arrangement? Claire doesn''t really care so much if she gets exposed; she only fears for Gabriel, and the ruin of his plans. And for these reasons, Claire is torn about her remaining days with Gabriel: half of her wants it to end now, yet half of her doesn''t want it to end forever.

    "That''s what really worries me most," she says as they arrive at Maroni''s the restaurant. "The fact that anything''s possible."

 Chapter 58 - The Goat Lover

    Miguel and Karen are already at the table when they arrive. Claire almost fails to recognize Karen¡ªshe''s wearing something fashionable and classy, and she glitters in the half-dark with all that jewelry¡ªa far cry from the woman of only a few hours ago. How in hell does a thing like this happen?

    Miguel stands up and gives Claire a hug, and whispers in her ear, "You look smashing, baby!"

    She''s taken aback by that, but she hides it. "Your date is smashing, too. Where''s Karen?" she teases.

    "You are unbelievable," Karen giggles as she stands and gives her an air-kiss. "It''s still me, the little innocent wide-eyed girl underneath this fancy exterior of glamor and signature brands."

    Claire bites her lip to stop herself from saying something scathing; Karen''s fakeness is really getting on her nerves, but she tries to focus on her singular mission: survive the night.

    "So Gabriel, it''s nice meeting you again," Karen says. "Miguel talked my ears off about his beloved older brother."

    "If it''s all impressive things, then I ?ssure you it''s all true," Gabriel says. "You clean up well, Karen. From what I hear, you passed out right in front of The French Place just hours ago."

    "Yes, uhh," Karen glances at Miguel. "It''s all thanks to your brother, Gabriel. He had me set up in his place, and ?ssigned a butler to attend to my needs. He even gave me all these jewelry. Isn''t he quite a generous dashing debonair?"

    "Yeah," Gabriel says. He grins, but he looks more like baring his fangs disapprovingly at his brother. "That''s Miguel for you. Just you wait and he might even give you his penthouse suite downtown. Or even your own private jet."

    Miguel laughs, yet the laugh is mirthless.

    "So what happened between you and that guy? Robert what''s-his-face?" Gabriel''s voice has an edge to it.

    "Russell," Karen corrects. She makes an animated shrug. "He left me."

    "That''s it?" Claire says. "Just like that?"

    "Yeah. Just like that. Some men are such ?ssholes. But I already told Miguel everything. I might bore him to death if I begin spoiling this dinner with stories about that man."

    Claire ignores the plea. "So you have no idea where Russell is right now?"

    "Well, generally, he would be in his office. He''s still running his security products business, I presume. But ever since he took away my phones and everything he had given me as a gift while we were together, I haven''t tried contacting him."

    "I see," Claire mutters. "But did he have the authority to boot you out of the apartment?"

    "Oh, he didn''t do that," Karen says. "I went a bit crazy when we broke up. I would hang out by the lobby of his office building, waiting for him. I had to be dragged out of security just early this morning. I hadn''t eaten or slept in days. I didn''t return to my apartment. When I literally stumbled into you and Miguel, I thought I was hallucinating. I was that desperate."

    Claire stares at Karen for a long moment, wondering whether or not to believe Karen''s tale of woe and dejection.

    Claire and Gabriel exchange meaningful glances. For Claire, at least, Karen is an enigma¡ªshe could just dismiss her as an annoyance, but lately, nothing happens without a good reason. What is Karen bringing with her? Is it really that neutral? That her reappearance would have no bearing in Claire''s life from here on? What can Karen possibly break?

    For Gabriel, his major concern is Miguel''s behavior. He believed Miguel to be playing some little game, but he''s surprised that his brother had already splurged on this woman. Sure, Karen''s very attractive, but she''s attractive in a Michelle Alcantara sense¡ªthat is, Karen''s beauty has an edge to it, as though she would stab you in the back the moment you turn away. And that''s what has been eating Gabriel¡ªKaren''s presence in the context of his immediate family is making his internal alarm bells set off.

    "This is turning into quite an interview," Gabriel laughs awkwardly. "Shall we order food now? Appetizers, at least?" He gestures to the waiter, who politely recites the night''s appetizers menu.

    "Those blue point oysters sound nice," Miguel says.

    "Can I have just a plate of tuna tartare salad?" Karen says. "Still watching my figure, sorry."

    "What about you, honey?" Gabriel says.

    "I, uhh," stammers Claire. She''s taken aback by Gabriel calling her ''honey''¡ªit''s titillating and surprising at the same time, yet the feeling tapers into a form of sadness¡ªafter all, it''s all just an act, right? And she really doesn''t know what to order¡ªshe''s not used to eating in these fancy schmancy restaurants, in the first place.

    Gabriel reads everything in her eyes. "Uhh, honey, the crab cakes here is to die for. Would you like to try that?"

    "I¡­yes, sure, if you say so," Claire mutters, still really undecided.

    "Or the goat cheese peppadew peppers? It''s pepper stuffed with artisanal goat cheese. Have you tried goat cheese before?"

    Claire cringes. "I haven''t even tried goat, much less cheese made of goat."

    "It''s made of goat''s milk, honey, not actual goat," Gabriel says, smiling.

    "Oh, I love goats!" chimes in Karen. "They''re cute!"

    "Didn''t you say Russell, your ex-boyfriend, looked like a goat with his goatee and his voice?" Miguel teases.

    "Oh, I hate goats then!" Karen giggles.

    Gabriel gives the waiter his instructions. The waiter makes a polite nod and disappears.

    "Well, that''s it for starters," Gabriel says.

    "I missed this place," Miguel says. "Even when I was dining at restaurants in Italy, I still missed Maroni''s. There''s something about the smells and the ambiance and the flavor."

    "And the memories," Gabriel adds. "We''ve been dining here since we were little kids, Mom and the fake Italian chef were good friends."

    "What do you mean ''fake Italian chef''?" Claire asks.

    Gabriel snickers. "Well, the chef is actually from Bulgaria, having learned the craft only from years of apprenticeship spent in Rome. So he''s not authentic Italian."

    "But the food is," Miguel adds. "Although there''s the slightest hint of difference, which you can tell especially if you''ve been to the Italian countryside and tasted the local home-cooked dishes there."

    "But you''ll see," Gabriel adds. A beat, then he says, "I wonder why we haven''t bought up this place, Miguel?"

    "Have you forgotten? The chef¡ªand Mom, for that matter¡ªdoesn''t want to sell it. If he dies, so would Maroni''s."

    Gabriel falls silent.

    Claire has been watching this exchange, noting how the brothers¡ªtwo of the business world''s most powerful men¡ªtalk about this little restaurant on the outskirts of the city as though this was the Square One of their lives, realizing that everyone starts small somewhere. That no matter where or how far you end up in life, you''re always that kid who loved the food your mother fed you.

    Claire stands up. "Please excuse me, boys. Will just visit the ladies''."

    Claire half-expects Karen to follow suit, but to her mild surprise, Karen stays there. Maybe she wants to maximize every moment of this dinner with the brothers, now that she has her foot in the door.

    In the restroom, Claire retouches her makeup. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if this pretty face could hold someone like Gabriel Tan''s attention much more than the kind of pretty Karen is. "Don''t be foolish," she mutters to the reflection. "This is just a job. Don''t fall in love, please."

    Claire stumbles into someone hanging by the ladies'' room''s door.

    "Oh, my God, it''s you," the man says, who looks somewhat familiar. Has she seen him somewhere? "I''ve been waiting for you for ages. What did you do inside that ladies'' room? You took so freaking long."

    Blood rushes to Claire''s head; such impertinence suddenly helps her remember who this ?sshole is. "You''re the reporter," she says. "From the pool party. At Gabriel''s mansion. The one the guards threw out. The one who begged at Gabriel''s feet."

    "And you''re the CEO of ten million companies, who can speak five languages, and actually looks so much hotter in a red two-piece bikini," the man snickers. "It''s Gary Smulder at your service, Miss Claire."

    He extends a hand, which Claire doesn''t shake.

    "What do you want?"

    Gary appears offended. He stares at his unshaken hand. "Well, I''m here to dig up dirt."

    "Dig up what?"

    "Dirt," Gary says. "Dirt on you and Gabriel and Miguel and that new hottie over there at your table. All for the sake of fair journalism."

    Gary grins; his one gold tooth glimmers in the dark.

 Chapter 59 - The Drive Home

    "You look pale," Gabriel says upon seeing her. "Anything wrong?"

    Claire sits down as if in a trance. She looks at him. "I just¡­"

    "You just¡­what?"

    Claire tries to gaze at the darkened corner of Maroni''s, in that spot where she knows Gary the reporter would be stalking, drinking his ???ktail, waiting in ambush.

    "Nothing," she says. "I just feel lightheaded."

    Karen puts a hand on Claire''s forehead. "You don''t feel hot, though."

    "Would you like us to go?" Gabriel is standing up. He senses that something''s up, something that Claire couldn''t say out in the open. He turns to the other couple. "Guys, let''s reschedule this dinner. But please enjoy the food. No need to cut this short."

    "Yeah, but¡­" Miguel begins to say, but he takes one look at Claire. He nods. "Yeah, let''s reschedule. There''s plenty of other chances. Will just swing by at the office maybe tomorrow."

    "Do that," Gabriel says. He tosses Karen a glance, before turning back to his brother. "We have a lot to talk about, brother. Some life-or-death stuff."

    Miguel grins. "I understand. Would love to talk about it."

    The waiter was just bringing all their food over as Gabriel and Claire slip out of the restaurant.

    Back in the car, Gabriel couldn''t help it. "Spill it, Claire. What happened over there?"

    "There''s something I have to tell you¡ª" Claire begins. "Remember the pool party a few nights ago? That reporter that you threw out?"

    "Sure. That scumbag. I know him. He interviewed my staff once."

    "He was at the restaurant, stalking us. He said something about digging up dirt on us."

    "Really?"

    "Yes," Claire says. "I don''t like this, Gabriel. This could unravel us."

    Gabriel laughs. "Look, Claire. For one thing, why in hell would that reporter tell you about his plan? If he''s looking for dirt, why reveal it, especially to you, of all people? If that''s really the card he''s playing, he shouldn''t have shown it, right?"

    Claire gazes at him. "You actually make sense."

    "I''m good at discerning intentions, Claire." But only when I''m not blinded by love, Gabriel almost says, but keeps it inside. "And another thing, that guy''s a loser. He''s like Jon Snow in the Game of Thrones TV series."

    "Jon Snow?"

    "Jon Snow. Because he knows nothing." Gabriel waits for a hint of recognition on Claire''s face, which doesn''t come. "Aw forget it, that was a joke."

    He makes a slow turn toward the main avenue, yet he drives past the TXCI building. Claire notices it, but says nothing.

    "Because if he actually knows anything of worth, he won''t tell you the reason he''s there," he continues. "He was probably fishing for information, that''s why he accosted you. He was hoping you''d unwittingly give him something."

    Claire says nothing for a while. There are other worries that rage in her heart, and she''s weighing them against this little moment with Gabriel.

    "I''m worried about Karen," she says.

    "What for? There''s nothing that woman can say that we should be worried about."

    "Karen knows where I''m from. She knows I''m not the person you announced to the world that I was. I''m not rich. I''m not a CEO of any company. I''m just a nobody. She might tell Miguel the truth."

    Gabriel is silent, but she could see he''s gritting his teeth. "That would only be a cause for concern," he says after a long pause, "If Miguel and I aren''t really close. She tells that to Migs, and he''d just laugh. He would get why we''re doing this."

    "But what if that reporter talks to Karen?"

    "Then there''s the rub," Gabriel says. "The shit hits the fan."

    "Are you really doing all of this just to hurt Michelle?"

    "Yes and no," Gabriel says. "Yes, I really want to hurt her. And no, I just don''t want to hurt her. I want to destroy her, Claire."

    "But she''s only a woman."

    "What?"

    "She''s only a woman who made a mistake. Why dedicate all your energies just to destroy a person who, after all, had been with you for many years? Isn''t it much easier to just forgive her and forget and move on?"

    Gabriel says nothing for a while. Truly, he knows all the right words to say to this. They say when you''re working to get revenge, you should dig two graves¡ªone for your target and one for you. Because revenge is never one-sided. It also destroys the one who seeks it. But despite everything, what Gabriel feels in his heart is this bottomless outrage. He''s not yet ready. Not now. And he''s not explaining himself to Claire Monteverde, the girl he hired to help him tilt the scales of justice.

    Claire sighs; he''s not justifying his behavior, and maybe it''s not really her place to do this. Maybe she should really just shut up. Sometimes you can''t stop your freaking mouth, Claire, she thinks. Sometimes you should know when to just zip it.

    So zip it, she does.

    Gabriel insists in walking her all the way to her penthouse suite at the Residence. "You don''t have to," Claire says, and in her mind: Do you do this for all your employees?

    As they reach the door to the suite, she stops and faces him. "Well, it has been an interesting night."

    "Yeah," he says.

    "Tomorrow, I''ll go ''work'' at your office as ''Bella'', right?"

    "That''s right, as part of your contract."

    "Well, goodnight, Gabriel."

    "Goodnight, Claire."

    "I ''enjoyed'' not being able to eat anything," she says.

    He makes a small laugh. "Sorry, will have the house chef bring up some food."

    "That''s okay, I''d just want to hit the bed."

    "Alright," he says.

    "Alright. Goodnight."

    "Goodnight."

    Then as Claire turns to open the door, Gabriel holds her arm.

    "Won''t you give me a goodnight kiss, just to cap everything off?"

    "Give you a what¡ª" Claire begins, but she never finishes as Gabriel kisses her. On the lips. Longer than what''s probably intended.

    "Sweet dreams," Gabriel says after the kiss.

    Claire watches him walk away, wondering if this is part of her work contract, wondering if Gabriel treats all his employees this way.

 Chapter 60 - The Missing Piece in her Memory Puzzle

    "Oh, hey, there you are!"

    It''s Mary, or Miss Braces for everyone else in the office, greeting her in the only way she knows.

    "Oh, hi, Mary," Claire, as Bella, says. She was trying to put on a semblance of work, typing a "memo" on her workstation, when Mary walked by. Gabriel hasn''t arrived yet. He''s supposed to. He must, because if he doesn''t show up, Claire would feel like this is a sorry waste of an entire day. "That floral dress looks great on you."

    "Oh, this?" Mary giggles. "Claudia gave it to me last Christmas. She really has great taste in dresses."

    "That''s so nice of her. What else has she given you?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "Has she given you her long-promised promotion?"

    At the mention of "promotion," Mary''s face crumbles. She sighs. "I''m sorry, Bella, but I have to go. There''s some paperwork I must complete before Claudia arrives."

    Claire watches Mary walk away, now the spring in her step gone. Jesus, Claire, you really know how to brighten someone''s day. And Mary, of all people.

    She''ll speak with Mary later. But right now, she wants to settle a few conflicting feelings in her heart. When she woke up early today, Claire was determined to talk to Gabriel about last night''s kiss. What was that? Is he really trying to make her crazy? She wasn''t able to react when Gabriel kissed her, mainly because she liked it. But when she closed the door last night, the kiss still fresh on her lips, the questions began to ?ssault her: what is really her role in all this drama? How does Gabriel see her? And if she''s really someone strictly in his employ, and nothing more than that, was there really need for a goodnight kiss? And one that wasn''t a smack at all but a kiss that lingered; a kiss that was unforgettably gentle and needy and hungry and¡­real. Too real for comfort.

    She felt hot last night, despite the air-conditioning turned to the max. She even spent a long time in the Jacuzzi, lately her favorite way to end the night before sleeping (and which would be among the many things she will miss when all this luxury is taken away from her), thinking over. Gabriel had the habit of suddenly popping in at the most unexpected moment, so all the while she was in the jetted tub, she kinda hoped he would re-appear. But he didn''t. He didn''t even call. But then again, why would he, anyway?

    Oh, man. Not even a full week into this "job," and already Claire is finding her own feelings as the biggest stumbling blocks in her d?s?r? to accomplish this as coldly efficient as possible. She has an eye for the future, and this is her first job, no matter how unusual the circumstances¡ªshe wants to put this job in her curriculum vitae later on, and she has to be careful in the job description. Putting "¡­and fell madly in love with the boss" wouldn''t really fly as far as job descriptions go.

    But can they blame her? The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes she has always been a passive player in this whole charade¡ªshe wasn''t the one who initiates things. It has always been Gabriel, him with his antics, his theatrics, his unexpected goddamn kisses.

    So is it really her fault if she has started feeling this way?

    She stares at the computer screen for a long time, the cursor blinking, as though it''s asking, "What now, Claire?"

    So early in the morning and already she feels an oncoming headache. Maybe it helps if she would defocus from her own dilemmas and try to help out someone else. Mary, for instance. Fight for Mary''s cause. If anything, while she''s still here and in a unique position to influence things, she might be able to help her out.

    Claire stands up. Mary''s not at her desk. At this time, she would be at the copier. People glance at her as she walks by. Who could blame them? It''s Miss Casandra''s inexplicable decision to make her a bombshell of a blonde, so as far as "going under the radar" is concerned, they''ve practically bombed it.

    The copy room is dimly lit, as though the office administrator wants to forget that it exists. Mary is on the copier, her back to Claire, as she quietly watches paper being spewed out, probably copied pages of some business profile that Claudia had asked Mary to reproduce in triplicate. Claire suddenly feels pity for Mary; the last time she was here, Mary was the cheerful one, always with some happy excuse for her own non-accomplishments. It was Claire who had asked the hard questions¡ªwhy do you let Claudia step all over you? You''re smart, why aren''t you a manager yet?¡ªand somehow those questions pierced through the thick layer of Mary''s self-denial.

    "Hi, Mary," Claire mutters, trying to raise her voice''s pitch.

    Mary turns to her. "Oh, hi, Bella."

    "Lunch date later?"

    For a split-second, happiness limns Mary''s face, yet it passes like the wind. "I¡­I''m not sure. I have a mountain-load of paperwork to finish for Claudia."

    "Come on, Mary, we''ve had this conversation before. Claudia cannot make you work through your lunch while she''s out there, taking her own sweet time and enjoying two-hour lunches at some swanky place."

    "She can do that because she''s the boss."

    "She''s not the boss, Mary. Gabriel is, and I have Gabriel''s ear."

    "Uhh, I''m not so sure about that, Bella."

    "What are you not so sure about?"

    "I don''t really know Gabriel. He''s a demigod who lives in the castle high up in the clouds. What matters to my fate in this office is the approval of my immediate superior, and that''s Claudia. And if Claudia doesn''t approve, then my life turns into a living hell."

    Claire says nothing at first. She also watches paper spewed out by the copy machine. Then a name on the document catches her eye. "Are these documents Jake Magno''s business dealings?"

    "Yeah," Mary says curtly.

    "What''s Claudia''s business with Jake?"

    "Didn''t you know?" Mary says. "Jake Magno has been fired."

    "What? Isn''t he one of the top sales managers here?"

    "Yeah, he was. But Gabriel fired him." Mary makes a big shrug and looks at the door to make sure no one''s coming. "Jake was fired the day after your dinner date, remember, the other night? And you know what the chatter is?"

    Confusion knits Claire''s brow. "What?"

    "That Jake was fired because he dated you."

    Claire is speechless; suddenly, a million questions run through her head. "Wait a minute. I don''t remember what happened with that dinner date," she says out loud. And indeed she doesn''t. For one thing, why and how does Mary know about that date? It was supposedly a private matter, she didn''t tell anyone about it. And another thing, it''s only now that she realizes she doesn''t remember how that date ended. Did Jake drive her home, back to the Residence? Was it the night before the morning when she woke up smelling of whisky and with Gabriel beside her?

    The more she tries to remember, the less it all makes sense. "Did you talk to Jake before he left?"

    "Oh, no," Mary says. "He never came back. It was his lawyer who came here and spoke with Claudia. Later I heard Claudia speaking excitedly to Gabriel on the phone. It sounded urgent. Like there''s some legal trouble or something."

    Claire sighs. There''s a big, black, inky darkness in the middle of her brain pertaining to the memory of that night. And she had never thought about it because of Gabriel¡ªhe made her so busy in the past couple of days that she never had a chance to reflect on it. And now, it boomerangs to her with a terrible sense of urgency. Jake''s termination¡ªdid it have anything to do with her?

    "Oh, there you are," a voice is heard by the door.

    "Oh, Mister Tan!" Mary says. "Good morning, sir!"

    "Good morning," Gabriel says nonchalantly. He looks like he just arrived. "I''ve been looking for you Cla¡ªerr, I mean, Bella."

    "I''ve been waiting for you," Claire mutters, her face grim. "We need to talk."

 Chapter 61 - The Non-coupleéˆ¥æªš Spat

    "You sound so serious," Gabriel says as he closes the door of his office. He even tries to smile.

    Claire, on the other hand, has her arms on her ?h?st. She walks straight to the other side of the room, to the glass wall overlooking the city, as though trying to distance herself as far away from the door as possible, away from prying ears.

    "What is this about?" he says.

    She turns to him. "What happened to Jake?"

    "What?"

    "You know who Jake is, don''t you? He was one of your top employees."

    "Yes, yes, I know who he is," he says. "What about him?"

    "Is it true you fired him because of me?"

    "Where did you get that idea¡ª"

    "Please don''t lie, Gabriel," she says. "Please tell me the truth. Did you fire Jake Magno because of me?"

    "Wait, I''m not sure what you''ve heard but¡ª"

    "Why can''t you just tell the truth, Gabriel Tan?" She''s actually beet red in the face. "Did you fire that man just because I dated him?"

    "Wha¡ª"

    "We''re not in a real relationship, Mister Tan," she says. "I''m just an employee. A contractual one at that. So it should not bother you if I date other people, especially a good and honest guy like Jake."

    "Hold it," Gabriel says. Now, it''s his turn to turn red in the face. Obviously, Claire is taking the whole thing the wrong way. There''s a tone in her voice that he couldn''t quite put a finger on. There''s something off about the whole thing. Does she think¡­

    "So tell me once and for all, Mister Tan. Did you fire Jake Magno because you''re¡­.jealous?"

    "What???"

    A deluge of conflicting feelings choke Gabriel Tan. For one thing, Claire is really taking it the wrong way; she''s so misinformed, she had no idea what kind of a monster Jake Magno is. Even now, Jake is such a pain in the ?ss, and Gabriel has been keeping it all under wraps just to protect her. For another, why would Claire immediately think that he''s jealous?

    "I''m not jealous, Claire," he says, trying hard to keep a straight face.

    "Come on, Gabriel," she says, still on fire. "Just one date, and the next thing Jake knew, he''s out of a job. Are you going to do that with every single person I date here? Why would you do that? Are we in a real relationship, Mister Gabriel Tan? Are we?"

    "Well, we''re, uhhh¡­" Jesus, Gabriel thinks, he just couldn''t really answer this straight. He feels like the "Are we in a real relationship" question is loaded, and Claire is already high-strung as she is now¡ªhe might say the wrong thing and this entire arrangement could be off.

    "We''re not a real couple, right?" Claire continues. "I''m not even here as my real identity, but as Bella Xavier. Bella, the blonde. I dated Jake Magno as a persona that does not exist in real life. That should''ve been a mitigating factor and should''ve stopped you from firing that man. But no, you went out of your way to go on a power trip, like you always love doing. What will you do if I date another cute guy."

    "Cute guy?" Gabriel''s curiosity is piqued. "Is there another cute guy here?"

    "Well," Claire stammers, trying to decide quickly who''s the cutest guy next to Jake in the hierarchy of this office''s most eligible bachelors. "There''s, uhh, there''s Kurt from Marketing."

    "Jesus, Kurt?" Gabriel face-palms. "He''s gay, Claire."

    "Then what about, uhh, Oscar, from IT?"

    "Oscar''s married and has seven kids, Claire. I doubt he''d like to add you to his growing list of dependents."

    "Then what about¡­Oh, blast it! What I''m trying to say is, what would you do if I date another guy here?"

    "Then I''ll fire his ?ss, too," he says, half-grinning.

    "That''s not fair!"

    "Claire, I''m kidding. I didn''t fire Jake because he dated you. And I won''t fire anyone you would date. I know our boundaries. I know I have no personal ownership of you at all. At least while we''re in this arrangement." Emphasis on "at least," because somehow, in the far future, Gabriel feels he might do his best to make Claire stay in her life. But now, he must not say it to avoid further complication.

    "Then what happened to Jake?"

    Gabriel sighs. He gazes intently into her eyes, and he could see how clueless Claire really is. She has no idea of what actually transpired on that night. Honestly, he would have wanted for Claire never to revisit that traumatic night. He would have wanted for things to remain as unspoken as they are. But Claire demands the truth, and she deserves nothing less.

    "Do you remember the date, where you went?"

    "Yes," she says. "Sort of. It was a steak house. I remember Jake being sweet and all and¡­"

    "And?"

    "And nothing else." Claire grimaces, trying to retrieve the memory. "But strangely, I don''t remember it ending. As if the last thing I remember is Jake''s face saying words, but that''s it. Everything is mysteriously missing. The next thing I knew is I woke up and you were beside me in the bed. Remember?"

    "There''s a grave reason why it was so," he says. "Jake''s not the sweet guy you think he is." Gabriel stops, trying to weigh his next words, composing them in his head so as not to shock her. But there seems to be no filtering this next revelation: "Jake drugged you and tried to **** you in his house."

    Claire''s pretty face knits in confusion. "You can''t be serious. Jake? He can''t¡­" Then she remembers finally. How Jake really was. How people called him "Jake the Snake." Wasn''t it suspicious that on her supposed first day at work, Jake was already hard at the effort of asking her out on a dinner date? Seriously, what kind of person does that?

    But on the other hand, what kind of girl says yes to such an invitation? Oops.

    "He slipped something in your drink, a modified version of a notoriously powerful drug called ''la rocha'' or ''roofies''. Modified because it knocked you out in mere seconds. I guess you were lucky because if he had somehow exceeded the highest possible dosage your body could absorb, you could have ended up paralyzed."

    "Paralyzed? Like a vegetable?"

    "Yes, the whole body. Paralyzed. For the rest of your life."

    Gabriel fought within himself regarding saying these dastardly details, but in the end, his d?s?r? for her to know the whole truth won.

    "Paralyzed, for the rest of my life," Claire intones, reeling from the realization of what a close call that simple, otherwise harmless dinner date had been with the end of her life. Her life hasn''t even started yet, and there she was, so stupidly allowing herself in harm''s way. And worse, she had been living the past few days without any idea of what a close call to disaster that had been.

    "Paralyzed," she mutters, and she feels an upward surge of sickness from her belly that she isn''t able to stop.

    She vomits her breakfast all over Gabriel Tan''s impeccable carpet.

 Chapter 62 - The Tale of the Almost-rape

    It takes Gabriel''s housekeeping staff a few minutes to clean up Claire''s mess, who is inconsolable on the big boss chair. Gabriel is standing in a corner, watching her, trying to make up his mind. How does he tell the entire thing?

    "I don''t even remember drinking it," she says, her voice still quaking. Claire couldn''t wrap her mind around the fact of it, what a close call it had been.

    Gabriel says nothing. Who could blame her? Claire is as innocent as they come; she probably has a picture of reality in her head where justice and fairness exist, where people mean well. She never could have imagined that someone like Jake exists, and one so near.

    Gabriel also had no idea about Jake''s secret persona. There were rumors of what a womanizer he was, but Gabriel had dismissed that as being of a sales executive''s reputation. You wouldn''t be so successful selling stuff if you couldn''t make up sweet lies to seduce people.

    And besides, it was largely Gabriel''s fault that Claire was left in harm''s way¡ªhe should have done more effort in protecting her. It took that attempted **** for Gabriel to hire bodyguards to watch her every single day¡ªalthough Claire, even now, doesn''t know it. The bodyguards he hired are expert in subterfuge¡ªthey can tail someone by hiding in their blind spot, blend in, hide in plain sight. The proof of their expertise is the fact that Claire has no idea they exist. Gabriel wouldn''t tell her about the bodyguards. Not yet. Perhaps there''s a right time for such a confession.

    But now, he must reveal the sordid details as much as possible, without traumatizing her. But how to do it?

    "After you passed out," Gabriel says, "Jake brought you to his car and drove all the way to the city''s outskirts. He has a house there, in a community where people never suspected anyone of anything. Perhaps they''re the kind of neighbors who see a man dragging an unconscious woman to his house as something ''normal'', the result of too much partying."

    "He brought me to his house?" Claire exclaims. "Where was that?"

    "A few miles outside the city."

    Claire tries to imagine it, and the more details Gabriel gives, the more the biggest question in her head grows: How in hell was she saved?

    "Are you saying Jake had successfully drugged me and brought me to his place, and somehow he was stopped?"

    Gabriel shrugs, as though it was no big deal. But inside, he''s desperately trying to make shit up in order for Claire to believe his own version of the story. He couldn''t tell her there''s a GPS transmitter the size of a grain of rice in her blond wig. He couldn''t tell her that he only realized she was out of the city because his smartwatch set off an alarm, that he grew instantly suspicious when her supposed location was in an area she was never known to go. That it took him less than half an hour to race to that location because he had connected the dots¡ªJake Magno was a womanizer, Jake was seen speaking flirtatiously to Claire that afternoon, both Jake and Claire were unavailable, and an hour later, Claire was in a strange location outside the city. You don''t need to be a rocket scientist to figure that out. And besides, he had the gut feeling that something terrible was up.

    "Yes," he begins, "and maybe it was just pure luck that I needed to see Jake that evening for some urgent sales report."

    "Really?"

    "Yes, of course," he says with a straight face. AND THE ACADEMY AWARD FOR BEST ACTOR GOES TO¡­ "I tried calling him up but he was not answering. I thought I should go straight to his place to better discuss the matter."

    "You mean I''m sitting here now, still alive, only because you needed to discuss a sales report with that monster? What if there was no problem with his sales report?"

    "I, uhh¡­" Jesus, more and more, Gabriel seems digging a deeper and deeper hole. "Well, I was also looking for you that night, and¡­ And¡­"

    Claire raises an eyebrow.

    "¡­And because I saw you speaking with Jake, I thought maybe, in the off chance, maybe you were together."

    Claire sighs. "But what if he brought me to someplace else?"

    I would still know because of the transmitter, Gabriel wants to say. But Claire cannot know that now. Not yet. "I wouldn''t have stopped trying to look for you. I would have combed the streets just to find you. And just to let you know, I have sharp instincts about these things. I''m almost like a psychic."

    "You can''t be serious," Claire says.

    "Well, I did find you, didn''t I?"

    Claire takes a deep breath in exasperation. Gabriel doesn''t seem to be getting it. From her perspective, Gabriel was able to save her only by the thinnest thread of chance. If he were late by a few more minutes, she would have been a goner. But more and more, Claire feels that Gabriel isn''t telling her everything. "Are you sure that''s how it happened?"

    Gabriel bites his tongue. He shrugs. It takes him an enormous amount of will not to say what was true. "But the bottom line is I found you in the nick of time. I stopped him. I stopped him with extreme prejudice. You have no idea what I did to him when I saw what he was trying to do to you."

    Claire almost doesn''t want to hear it, but she feels she must face it. She wants to be shocked down to the core of her being, so that she''ll remember this, burn this in her brain, so that hopefully, she would sense someone like Jake Magno from miles away. If that makes sense. "How was it, then?"

    Gabriel pauses. He looks out the glass wall. Really, he''s just trying to buy time, composing the narrative in his head. "I kicked the living daylights out of him."

    "Really?"

    "Yeah," Gabriel says, all blas¨¦. "When I first came, he was like, ''why are you here, man?'' But even then I knew something was up. He was nervous. And he didn''t want me to enter the house. So I shoved him then I began looking for you in the rooms."

    Claire is nodding; she''s straddling that "should I believe this shit, or not" fence, but Gabriel is in the middle of his narrative, and he''s starting to be emotional.

    "And then, boom! I saw you in a room, in bed, just lying there and not moving. And in that split-second, I knew what was happening. I knew what he was up to. So I whirled around, and on reflex I ducked¡ªI narrowly dodged his punch! And you know how Jake is, he looks like he could kill a bull. But I also knew it was a matter of life or death¡ªfor both of us¡ªso I let out all the rage in me and hit him in the most painful places."

    "So you instantly transformed into, like, a martial arts superhero or something?" Claire says, tongue in cheek.

    "Yeah, absolutely," Gabriel says, and he''s becoming more and more animated in his gestures. "At one point, Jake had a baseball bat, and he was pummeling at me left and right! The walls explode in powder as the bat hits it instead of me, because luckily I still got my moves and I was like a bu??erfly, just dancing around and flying, with all the footwork and the moves, you know."

    "Oh, I see."

    "And then finally, I surgically punched him in all his vital points, and before he knew it, he was down on the floor, paralyzed with pain."

    "Poor Jake," she says, not really meaning it. "I didn''t know you''re such an awesome fighter, Mister Tan." Claire tries hard to stifle her laughter.

    Gabriel shrugs, like it''s no big deal. "No big deal," he actually says. "By trying to harm you, he just brought out the beast in me. I can never let anyone hurt a single hair on you, Claire."

    There''s something about that last line that ??r?ssed Claire''s heart. Of all Gabriel''s bluster, it''s that last line that impresses her. It feels like it''s the only true thing in Gabriel''s entire story. "Thank you," she mutters, softly. "Now I know. Despite everything, I''m sitting here talking to you, alive, because of what you did. Thank you Gabriel."

    Gabriel is taken aback; one moment he was building himself up as this indefatigable white knight, the next moment Claire''s n?k?d gratitude hits him straight in his soft parts. He smiles. "Anything," he says, and hesitates for a moment. "Anything, for my dear pretend fianc¨¦e."

    "At least you saved my life." She smiles, too, despite the word "pretend." She stands up. "If everything you''ve said is true, then I think I really need to see Jake."

    "What for?"

    "I want that jerk to look at me straight in the eye," she says, "before I give him the hardest slap his face has ever tasted."

 Chapter 63 - The Avenger

    Claire couldn''t think straight. She''s pounding away on her computer, typing whatever comes to mind. It''s a good thing nobody can see her computer screen, with her back directly on the wall, because they''d know she''s just faking it.

    Gabriel had to leave immediately¡ªthere was a phone call, and even though he didn''t tell her what it was about (and it''s not really her business, anyway), she felt it might have something to do with Jake Magno again. Apparently, it turns out, Jake is a festering problem Gabriel has yet to solve. And she had no idea.

    "If I were a bad person," Gabriel told her, "I could have ended his life, right then and there. But I thought of giving that decision to the authorities. And now here we are."

    Jake is suing Gabriel. Not only that, he is threatening to make a grand spectacle of his departure from the company. "Which means shit can hit the fan," Gabriel said. "And we could attract the kind of attention that we''ve been trying to avoid."

    Claire is thinking of calling up Jake. Give him a piece of her mind. That ?sshole. Each time he crosses her mind, Claire is overcome with an urge to put her hands around Jake''s neck and squeeze it so hard until the little bones break. She wants to claw his eyes out. She basically wants to absolutely, utterly, and inexorably kill him for what he did to her.

    She''s so riled up, she can''t focus. Good thing she doesn''t have to do any actual work. This morning, she was just typing "THE QUICK BROWN FOX JUMPS OVER THE LAZY DOG" over and over, but now she''s writing her heart out, although in a totally structure-less way. She wants to expunge this pain in her heart, this anger. Learning about Jake''s crime too late only made her angrier.

    "Something seems to be eating you, Bella," Mary says, concern on her face, as she walks by.

    Claire tries to smile. "I''m just not feeling well."

    "I have a bottle of Tylenol, if you need it."

    "Thanks, but I think I''ll be fine," she says. "Maybe I just need to finish typing this letter."

    "What are you working on?" Mary asks innocently, as she maneuvers in order to see what''s on Claire''s computer screen.

    Claire panics¡ªon her screen is nothing but a jumble of words that basically describe how to skin Jake Magno alive¡ªand in one desperate move she stamps with her palm the screen''s power bu??on. The screen dies instantly.

    Mary''s brow knits in confusion. "How are you able to write there? Your screen''s off?"

    Quick, Claire, think! "Uhh, Mary! I have a little joke for you. Say, you and your boyfriend are about to ride a rollercoaster, but before the ride even starts, your boyfriend breaks up with you! Imagine that! But then, the ride begins, and you bet on board the rollercoaster anyway, even as you watch your boyfriend walk away. Now the question is, what do you call that rollercoaster?"

    Mary looks at her funny. "Uhh, I''m not sure. What is it, then?"

    "It''s called an emotional rollercoaster! Get it?" Claire laughs at her own joke.

    It takes Mary three seconds to get it. She laughs, too. "That''s so bad it''s good. Only problem is I''ve never had a boyfriend."

    "Never?"

    "Never ever," Mary says, yet she smiles. "I don''t mind, though. There''s a right time for everything."

    "You''re absolutely right," Claire says, glad that Mary''s mind is elsewhere and not on her mysteriously dead computer screen.

    "I don''t want to be like the girls you see here, so desperate to have anyone, just anyone, that they''re willing to hook up even with a married guy."

    "You don''t say!" Claire''s eyes go wide. "Are you talking about actual persons in this office?"

    "Yes," Mary whispers conspiratorially, looking around her. "You''ll never believe the unspeakable lows some girls here would stoop. It''s a good thing Jake''s gone. He kept hitting on everyone."

    Claire pretends she''s too shocked. "Oh, my God! Is that true?" Then she shuts up because the conversation has just entered awkward territory¡ªafter all, Claire was among the women who actually said yes to a date with Jake. So technically, she''s no better than anyone else that Mary considers "too desperate."

    Mary gazes at Claire. "You know what, you said something strange this morning in the copy room."

    Claire''s heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"

    "In the copy room. About your dinner date with Jake. You said you don''t remember how the date ended. Were you serious about that?"

    Claire fake-laughs. "Oh, that? I was just kidding. I mean, I had forgotten about the date because it was too awful to even remember. Jake was so insufferable."

    "Really? You''re not the first person who ever said that!"

    "Yeah," Claire says, her mind on over-drive, trying to make shit up. "Err, I mean, I didn''t know what I was thinking in the first place, saying yes to that jerk. I immediately regretted having agreed to the date, but I thought, maybe I could learn something from him about the culture of the company, things like that."

    "And then?"

    "Well, I was wrong. There''s nothing Jake can teach me. He was all about himself, from the very first moment he sat across me at the table. I was bored to death that my brain tried to forget that date even while it was happening. Ha ha ha!"

    Mary shrugs. "Well, at least, he brought you to a nice steak house. I haven''t even tried it there, yet. It''s too expensive."

    "Wait a minute," Claire says, her curiosity mixing with irritation. "How did you even know about these details? I don''t remember telling anyone else about that date."

    "Sorry," Mary whispers, glancing behind her. "It''s all the office chatter. Whenever there''s a new girl, everyone expects that Jake asks her out. People make bets. Money changed hands when you actually said yes. I don''t really know, but I just overheard. People talk at the water cooler, you know."

    Claire stares at her, uncertain of what to feel. This is her first job, her first exposure to a corporate setting. And it bothers her that the culture of an otherwise modern organization seems no different from the gossip-loving culture of a small village in the countryside in the boondocks. It''s small-minded. "People are the same wherever you go," goes a line from an old song her mother loved singing, "Ebony and Ivory."

    "What else have you heard?" Claire asks.

    Mary pauses to think. "Hmmm. I think everyone wonders whatever happened to your date. Jake usually regales his boys the morning after with an exciting story. But he never came back. And then we got word about his termination. So that''s an incredibly strange turn of events for everybody."

    "And speaking of Jake," Claire says, composing herself. "Would you know how to contact him?"

    "Why?"

    Claire fake-sighs. "I don''t want to have anything to do with him, but Gabriel, he asked me to call Jake up and relay a message."

    "Well, I can have Jake''s former secretary relay the message to him, if you want."

    "It''s important, Mary, that I personally call him up. Gabriel Tan''s specific instructions."

    Mary gazes at her for a long moment, probably trying to glean the truth. "Okay," she says after a while. "I think I have his contact details from the documents I''ve been processing. Give me a moment."

    Much later, in Gabriel''s empty office, Claire dials Jake Magno''s phone number. Her hands slightly tremble, but she steels her resolve. She has to do this. Her soul is dying to do this, to find closure. She imagines a hundred ways this could go.

    "Hello," a man''s voice speaks coldly on the other end. "Gabriel?"

    "No, it''s Bella Xavier, Jake," Claire says, in the sweetest voice she could muster. "Forget about Gabriel. Let''s have a little heart to heart chat. And who knows, maybe I could actually let you do to me what you were not able to do that night."

    The man''s voice trembles with initial disbelief. Is this really THE Bella Xavier? Maybe, because she''s using Gabriel''s office phone number. But like all men who tend to think with their smaller heads, Jake Magno, despite the utter weirdness of the message, agrees to a time and place, his suspicions drowned out by his eagerness to finally have his hands on Bella''s smoldering hot bod.

 Chapter 64 - The Rendezvous

    The meeting place was an unassuming bar downtown, the kind frequented by the down and out. Yet, Jake Magno has set the "date" here; if anything happens, no one would be suspicious. Brawls erupt spontaneously here; women pass out and shoved into waiting car trunks, and nobody bats an eye; all the more perfect for Jake.

    Claire has no idea what she''s walking into. She''s never been to this part of town, and she merely found it because of her chauffeur''s expertise. Her heart pounds in her ?h?st. "What exactly do you intend to do, Claire?" the voice in her head says. "You could be walking into the lion''s den."

    The viper''s pit, more like.

    It''s not hard to spot Jake, even when he''s sitting at a table half-hidden in the shadows. Claire would recognize that profile anywhere. Jake sees him and he raises his glass. Claire nods, like some gunslinger come to the town''s saloon, ready for a duel.

    "You look amazing, Bella," Jake says, standing to greet her with a hug, as though everything is normal and he never tried to **** and probably murder her a few nights ago. But Claire recoils, so Jake stops and looks at her. "You smell heavenly, too," he snickers. "Sit down. Let''s have that chat you were talking about."

    Claire quietly takes the seat opposite him. "I''d like a double shot of whisky, please. On the rocks."

    Jake grins as he signals to the waiter. "That''s good. You''re coming on strong and hot."

    The waiter only takes a second to arrive. Claire doesn''t take her eyes off the whisky; she remembers very well what Jake did the last time. Her nerves are frayed and she''s trembling underneath this fa?ade of coolness. She takes a swig of the whisky, pours it directly down her throat so that she won''t taste the bulk of it, and her mind almost whites out. Holy fu?k! That was nasty! She has never had hard liquor before, but she had asked Mary at the office what could be the easiest drink to calm the nerves, and Mary said whisky, on the rocks, make it double. She had no idea what those words meant. Now she knows; gawd, that shit tasted awful.

    But she keeps a straight face, and pretends she''s made of steel.

    Jake Magno watches her quietly, like a predator watching prey. He''s curious, above all. Why would Claire ask for this meeting? What is she really thinking? He presumes, and correctly at that, that Claire already knows what he did to her that night. And probably Gabriel painted himself as her knight in shining armor, maybe making shit up too so he would come off as superbly heroic. That buffoon! That privileged idiot! He wouldn''t be the boss if his mother didn''t own the company. All that wealth was merely served to Gabriel on a silver platter, and he didn''t have to work hard for it, unlike what Jake did. Every cent in Jake''s bank account was thanks to his sharp talent¡ªhe could sell the Eiffel Tower to a common Parisian, if shit came to that. That''s how good he is at his craft. He knows why people buy things, and he knows which bu??ons to push. And Gabriel? All he does is reap what others have sown.

    And it hurts Jake''s pride that he wasn''t able to consummate his raging d?s?r? for Bella Xavier. There''s something about this woman that drives him crazy. She''s incredibly attractive, but not in a s?utty, college-girl-whore kind of way, but in that rare, special sense that makes a man marry a woman. He had recognized that early on, how Bella is the type of girl you bring home to Mama. But Jake''s jaded and no longer entertained that na?ve fantasy of finding "The One"¡ªhe knew he''d never have her, so he tried to take only what he could get¡ªa night in bed with her.

    "Who did that to your face?" Claire says, seeing him up-close for the first time since that night.

    And only then does Jake becomes self-conscious; he realizes how he must look to her. All the more reason to hate Gabriel Tan, because he''s the one who did this to him¡ªhe has stitches above an eye, on his cheekbone, and his left earlobe had to be re-attached with a special medical-grade glue. All this damage from that night, and meeting Gabriel the following morning without a scratch on him only added to the aggravation. How could that puss? beat him to a close-quarter fight? Even now it boggles Jake''s mind.

    Of course, he doesn''t know that for Gabriel Tan that night, he was fighting not only for his life, but for the woman he has learned to truly care about. That was why all his rage is unleashed, like a cornered lion, serving Jake Magno an all- or-nothing fight for Claire.

    "You''d have to thank your awesome boss, Gabriel Tan, for this," he mutters. "Tell him I haven''t forgotten."

    Claire smiles patiently, fighting the urge to scratch his face. "Surely, you did something that made Gabriel do that, right?"

    Jake says nothing; he glances at her sidewards in disdain, and takes a swig of his beer. "Let''s cut the chase. What do you want?"

    "Oh, you don''t want foreplay now?" Claire snickers. She adjusts how she''s sitting, slyly pushing out some more cleavage for Jake''s benefit.

    Jake doesn''t miss that. He glances at her milky-white cleavage, which secretly takes his breath away. Imagine if Gabriel didn''t arrive at the house that night¡­

    "If it''s foreplay you want, I''d give it to you. And more," he says. "Let''s start with what are you willing to give me?"

    "Everything," Claire smiles flirtatiously. "And as long as you want it. And although I''m young and inexperienced, I''m willing to make up for it with the willingness to experiment."

    Jake Magno almost creams in his pants upon hearing those words come out of that lovely mouth. He can''t believe he''d be alive to hear it; it''s the hottest thing he''s heard in years. That face, that mouth, those words. "As long as you want it," she said. Holy fu?k.

    Jake gazes at Claire''s now empty glass. "Would you like another shot?"

    "Yes, please," she says without hesitation. "Double, on the rocks."

    Not five seconds pass by since she uttered those words, and here''s the waiter, serving her drink.

    "I never knew you''d be so¡­agreeable to discuss with about these things. Had I known, I wouldn''t have had to resort to that bit of¡­naughtiness a few nights ago." Jake leisurely wets his lips with the tip of his beer bottle.

    Claire almost chokes with her rage, but she soldiers on; she even smiles. "It''s because you never asked." She ever so slightly inclines towards him, squeezing out a bit more cleavage. She''s now so close to him that Jake can drink up her scent. "I think a lot of problems would have been avoided if people only asked first, before making deadly ?ssumptions."

    "I couldn''t agree more," Jake Magno says.

    "And speaking of asking for things, I''m here because there''s one little thing I''d like to ask you."

    Jake''s flesh trembles with excitement; whatever she asks, he would give it to her. "Go on, ask it. I couldn''t wait."

    Claire gently puts a hand on Jake''s leg, squeezing it slightly. But before Jake could even react, Claire does something that instantly turns Jake''s world upside-down, and bloody red.

 Chapter 65 - The Rendezvous Part Two

    At first, Jake thinks Bella''s hand would ??r?ss him up his th??h, and he welcomes it¡ªfor once in his life, he''s not the aggressive one in this foreplay. If Bella wants to touch him down there and waken the dragon, right here in this bar, then so be it. He could die tomorrow. So Jake closes his eyes in anticipation.

    Yet, what he doesn''t see is how Claire deftly grabs with her other hand the glass of whisky, still with its contents, and with the strength of her entire being, smashes the glass against Jake''s face.

    The pain is instantaneous, and it drowns him. He tries to open his eyes, and sees only her blurry silhouette against the dim light of the bar. "What the¡­"

    Claire kicks him in the groin. Unbelievable pain explodes there, and he doubles over. Jake couldn''t believe this is happening. He attempts to stand up but his vision whites out once again as Claire slaps him across the face so hard that the momentum sends him falling on his back.

    "Stay away from me," Jake hears Bella mutter as she stands over him. "And stay away from Gabriel. Drop all those stupid charges. Because if you don''t¡­"

    Jake feels Bella''s warm breath in his ear. He cowers in fear, expecting another blow from this surprisingly strong woman. "Please don''t," he whimpers like a wounded puppy.

    "Sure," Claire whispers. "But know this. I''m only not suing you to high heavens because I''m giving you a chance to go away, to start a new life elsewhere, outside this city. So take this opportunity. Get away. Drop all your made-up, gadfly charges against Gabriel. If you''re still in this city tomorrow, I''ll go straight to the district attorney''s office and file a massive case against you. I''ll find all the women you date-raped in the past, I''ll go big on social media and tag you as a s?x offender, I''ll do everything to send you rotting in jail for the rest of your life."

    "You¡­you can do that?"

    "Oh, yes," Claire says. "And more. Gabriel is only being patient with you because he''s inherently a good person. But me? I''ll use Gabriel''s resources to make your life a living hell, I will testify, and you know how charming I can get with people. So consider this the best deal you''ll ever get: before the massive shit hits the fan, get out of our lives."

    Jake Magno says nothing. He groans in pain and tries to get up. But Claire digs her heel on his groin, sending Jake crying out in pain. "I didn''t hear you say yes," she says.

    "Y-yes," Jake whimpers. "Yes."

    "You''re gone tomorrow."

    "Yes," Jake says, trying to look at her but could not because of the blood in his eyes. "I-I''ll go."

    Claire gazes at him for a moment, and without saying a word, turns her back on it all. She walks out of the bar like it''s just an ordinary day, like she didn''t just smash a man''s face and threatened to ruin his life. The chauffeur, upon seeing her with bloodstains in her hand, dutifully gives her a box of tissue and a hand sanitizer.

    What Jake Magno doesn''t realize as he lies there on the floor of this nondescript bar is that Claire, or Bella, took a big gamble when she did what she did. Claire knew that Jake valued his public persona¡ªhe''s a sales person after all, whose career depended on reputation and social network, and showing him that she''s not afraid to go public and do damage, even if she''d end up damaged as well, would compel him to cave in. The ace up Jake''s sleeve as far as harassing Gabriel with a lawsuit is that Jake knew Gabriel hated bad publicity and would do everything to avoid it. Of course, Jake also hated bad publicity, but he had been bluffing and had no intention of going ahead with it¡ªhe was just waiting for Gabriel to make a settlement offer, probably in millions of bucks. When Claire as Bella walked into that bar, all feisty and seemingly a woman with nothing to lose, Jake''s confidence in his own scam fell down like a house of cards. Worse, Bella isn''t bluffing¡ªhe indeed was an almost-victim, and she can back up the charges against him.

    On the other hand, what Claire didn''t know when she walked into that bar is that the four bodyguards Gabriel had ?ssigned to protect her were also there, posing as customers, ready to jump into action should Claire appear threatened in any away. But awesomely, Claire handled herself very well. The bodyguards were secretly impressed with the woman''s "balls," which can also be regarded as utter recklessness. Yet, it worked. And like all other men who abuse women, Jake Magno''s true colors are revealed¡ªhe''s really a yellow-belied low-life who couldn''t hold a candle to a woman like Claire.

    As for Claire, the truth was, she really did "dive" into that situation with her eyes closed. Her heart pounded madly in her ?h?st¡ªshe had never done anything as gutsy as this before¡ªyet she held on to logic and the fact that she''s on the side of truth.

    Unfortunately for Jake, Claire still intends to file a case against him¡ªbut only after this whole charade of pretending to be Gabriel Tan''s fianc¨¦e is over. She''ll never let the likes of Jake Magno get away unscathed.

    Being driven back to the Residence, Claire wonders what came of her, really. Where did she get courage to do that? Maybe it was pure, simple outrage. She couldn''t swallow what Jake had done to her. Sure, it was unconsummated, but still. He drugged her. And she knew that in those moments between when Jake succeeded in bringing her to his house and Gabriel knocking on the door, Jake probably had a little fun with her as she lay there unconscious. She couldn''t live with the fact that someone, some idiot she doesn''t even respect would get away with such a stunt. She''s probably crazy for setting up that date, but she was crazy with anger and an overwhelming sense to right what was wrong.

    And even as she sits there in the backseat of that Benz sedan Gabriel has ?ssigned to serve her, Claire seethes with rage, her brain going through like a fine-toothed comb how she''d give Jake Magno what he deserves. Just you wait, Jake, until all this is over. Until Gabriel no longer cares about bad publicity.

    As soon as she steps into the lobby of the Residence, Dale greets Claire. "Good evening, Madam. Miss Cassandra has been waiting for you at the lounge."

    "For what?" she says.

    Dale apologizes. "I''m not privileged to know of such things, Ma''am."

    Miss Cassandra''s sipping a blood-red ???ktail when Claire finds her. She stands up upon seeing Claire, holding her arm with clammy hands. "Oh my God, Claire. There''s something you need to know."

    "And good evening to you, too," Claire manages to say, half as a joke, and half as a way to diffuse nerves. "What is it?"

    Miss Cassandra gazes at her. "It''s about Michelle Alcantara. Remember, Gabriel''s former fianc¨¦e?"

    "Oh, yes, the evil bitch," Claire says matter-of-factly. "What about her?"

    "She''s coming to the office tomorrow," Miss Cassandra says breathlessly. "And I don''t know what she''ll be bringing, but my contact says it''s going to hurt Gabriel. Really, really hurt him."

 Chapter 66 - The Visitor from Hell

    "Really?" Claire says incredulously. "Is this really for me?"

    She''s pointing at a trenta-sized coffee that Gabriel is handing her. They''re in his office at nine in the morning.

    "Yes, of course," he says cheerfully. "I bought two, see? So the other one''s for you."

    "I''m sorry, Gabriel," she sighs. "I''m just not used to this. It''s usually me who gets you your caffeinated beverage."

    Gabriel smiles as he throws his body on his big boss chair. He seems to be in good spirits. Today seems to be one of those days when he''d woken up on the right side of the bed. "I feel good today, Claire. One of my problems got mysteriously solved."

    That sends a jolt to Claire''s heart. She immediately has an inkling of what Gabriel is talking about.

    "Imagine that," Gabriel continues. "One day your shoulders are heavy with untold burden of so many untold complexities. Then another day, everything seems to have vanished."

    "What are you speaking of?" Claire has to ask, although she somehow knew what is coming.

    "Got a phone call from Jake Magno''s lawyer this morning," Gabriel says. "He''s withdrawing all the charges. Everything. Even says sorry. Unbelievable."

    He gazes at her, as though waiting for her to say something. The truth is, Gabriel really knows what happened. The commander of the secret bodyguards he had ?ssigned to protect Claire had called him up as soon as Claire ordered her chauffeur to drive to that bar. They sensed something was up, and the bodyguard, acting on long-standing instructions, felt it proper to let him know. "Don''t ever let her out of your sight," he had told him. "Anticipate the surprises, if you can. Read the environment. Act two steps ahead of whoever Claire''s meeting."

    Later, that night, the bodyguard called him up again to report, in detail, what happened. The bodyguard''s account dropped Gabriel''s jaw¡ªhe''d never expect Claire, the "Virgin Princess," would be capable of acting like that. It was like a scene lifted from a comic book. And here he was, all the while thinking he''d been trying to save this damsel in distress, when as it turned out, she could very well defend herself¡ªyou just give her a fighting chance.

    And what really touched him deeply was the bodyguard''s account of what Claire told Jake, as the man lay on his back, his face bloodied: "Get out of our lives."

    "OUR lives," she said. For some reason, that tickled Gabriel Tan''s heart. He kept muttering the phrase to himself as he tried to sleep that night: OUR lives. Get out of OUR lives. OUR lives, she said. He couldn''t stop but feel a childlike glee, some deep-seated gladness, whenever he uttered that phrase out in the open.

    That''s the reason why he was so cheerful this morning. Not the fact that Jake Magno''s withdrawing all his stupid made-up bullshit legal charges. Because if push came to shove, Gabriel would have no choice but to stomp on the little fires Jake would make with all the might of his clout. He was a giant, a titan that Jake had the unfortunate mistake of waking up. Truly, Claire didn''t have to risk her safety just to threaten Jake. But then again, maybe give the woman some credit: maybe she really needed to get that rage off her ?h?st.

    What Claire had done only endeared her deeper to him. As the days wear on¡ªand these are precious days¡ªGabriel discovers things that make him realize Claire''s beauty, not only physically, but as a well-rounded beautiful person.

    "Maybe he had a change of heart," Claire says. She smiles. She shrugs. "It happens, sometimes."

    "Yeah," he says. "I just wouldn''t expect any change of heart to be coming from that snake."

    "Sometimes things work in mysterious ways," she says coyly.

    Back at her desk, trying to pretend to work, Claire is also feeling a bit cheerful. She''s glad that it worked. Of course, she has no idea that Gabriel knows. She wouldn''t tell him to brag about it¡ªit''s enough that it worked, and she will keep it as a happy secret¡ªthat is, until her employment here is over. She will still pursue filing a case against Jake. But that can wait.

    Claire keeps gazing at the office''s entrance. Mary has not yet arrived. She has a ton of questions for Mary. What Miss Cassandra told her last night gave her the screaming mimies, but she has kept reminding herself that this is just some bitch; if she survived the likes of Jake, surely she can overcome whatever Michelle Alcantara can throw at her. But she needs Mary¡ªshe wants to know a lot of stuff about Michelle, and perhaps, Mary can throw some light upon the mystery.

    The next time she looks at the wall clock, it''s almost noon. Gabriel is still in his office. She can hear his voice; he''d been on the phone the entire morning. And oddly, he hasn''t summoned her. It''s times like these that make her realize how her role in this office is purely ornamental¡ªshe has no real contribution. She disappears today and it would even cause the slightest ripple on the grand scheme of things here. For a moment, that thought depresses her.

    "Jesus, of all the days you had to be unavailable, why today?" Claire mutters to herself, noting that Mary hasn''t arrived yet. After a while she stands up, intending to knock on Gabriel''s office door. In her head she''s trying to make up some excuse to talk to him. Maybe ask him about where he''s having lunch,which might remind him to ask her out. After all, executive secretaries normally have business luncheons with their bosses, right?

    But as she stands up from her desk, she catches a sight of the main entrance door opening. It''s as if the world slows down as the double glass doors swing open, and in walks none other than Michelle Alcantara, looking impeccably fashionable wearing what looks like the hide of dead reptiles. And the first thing she does is set her laser-guided sight upon poor Claire, who freezes like a deer in headlights.

 Chapter 67 - The Return of the Big, Hot Mess

    Michelle, with all her sense of entitlement and privilege, sashays toward Claire, who stands there as if struck by lightning. And in those few seconds, everything comes back to Claire: the pool party of just a few days ago, where Michelle and she tried to drown each other.

    "Good morning," Michelle actually says, which surprises Claire¡ªshe didn''t expect Michelle to actually be courteous. "I''m here for Gabriel. We have a meeting."

    "A meeting?" Claire rummages through her desk, as if trying to look for a note about Gabriel''s schedule for the day, which actually doesn''t exist. She pulls out a blank sheet of paper, and pretends to read from it. "Uhh, I think Gabriel''s still finishing up his teleconference," she lies, buying time.

    "Wait, you look familiar," Michelle says, looking at her from head to toe, her brows knitted. "Have we met before?"

    "I¡ªI''m not sure, Ma''am," Claire manages to say. "I''m just new here."

    "Oh," Michelle says, "so you''re the new executive ?ssistant." She smiles as she takes a small step back to get another good look at Claire. "As always, Gabriel knows how to choose the nicest looking secretaries. I''ve always been jealous of Gabriel''s girl Fridays, you know. I always had this recurrent nightmare of finding him in bed with one of them." Michelle makes a dry laugh.

    Oh, that''s rich coming from the very person who cheated on him, Claire says, but only in her head.

    "Do you know who I am, dear?" Michelle says.

    Of course, you bitch, you almost clawed out my eyes at that pool party, is what Claire almost says, but she bites her tongue. "I''m sorry, Ma''am, but I believe this is the first time we''re meeting."

    "What''s your name, sugar?"

    "Clai¡ªerr, I mean, Bella."

    "Even your name is pretty. ''Bella''. Did you know ''bella'' is Italian for ''beautiful''?"

    "Yes."

    "Really?"

    "Only now," Claire says, "when you said it." She grins.

    "Sense of humor!" Michelle says. "I like that. I''m Michelle, by the way. Michelle Alcantara. Gabriel''s fianc¨¦e."

    Claire fakes being surprised. "Oh, my God! So you''re THE Michelle Alcantara! I feel honored to be in the presence of such a legendary¡ª" Bitch? ¨C"woman!"

    Michelle giggles. "Thank you. No need to mention it, Bella."

    "You said you''re the fianc¨¦e? I thought Gabriel has a new one," Claire says coyly.

    "Oh, a little misunderstanding," Michelle says. "The new one is a usurper to my throne. I''ll put her in her place shortly."

    Claire reddens in the face, yet she puts on the fakest smile. "Have you met her, then?"

    Michelle scoffs. "It hardly qualifies as a ''meeting''. She hardly qualified as my equal. I don''t know. I feel Gabriel is just blinded by anger that he picked up any cheap girl he met in some far-flung area. Nobody knows who that woman is, and Gabriel''s selling her as some high-class super-achieving businesswoman. If that''s true, I should have heard about her. But nothing." Michelle shakes her head. "The lengths Gabriel goes to just to try and piss me off."

    "You mean, you don''t believe that Gabriel''s engagement with that new girl is genuine?"

    "Of course not!"

    She knew it, Claire thinks. So that''s why Michelle has not been bugging them. She''s never felt threatened. She''s just laughing off the whole so-called "engagement" with one Claire Monteverde.

    But there''s something else. There''s something about Michelle''s uncanny confidence here. As though she knows something that Gabriel doesn''t.

    "You know what, Bella," Michelle says, "I like you. You don''t give off that ''bitchy'' vibe. Maybe we can be close here, now that I''m going to be holding office here."

    "What? You''re working here, too?"

    Michelle laughs. "Yes, and speaking of work, please check if Gabriel''s okay now, please."

    But Claire stands stunned there for a few moments. A lot of questions go through her head, foremost of which is "Why?" What in hell is happening?

    Hesitantly, Claire knocks on the door. She hears Gabriel grunt in ?ssent.

    "Why is your face as white as sheet?" Gabriel asks, staring at her weirdly. "Have you seen a ghost or something?"

    "I, uhh," she stammers. "There''s someone out there. She says you two are supposed to have a meeting."

    "''She''? A woman? That''s odd. Who is it?"

    Claire sighs. "It''s Michelle."

    "What Michelle? Michelle who?"

    "Michelle. Your ex-fianc¨¦e. THAT Michelle."

    Waves of emotions flit through Gabriel''s face. First is disbelief¡ªsurely, Claire is joking. Sometimes, you never know with this girl, with her misplaced sense of humor. But then she''s staring at him like she has seen something ghastly. So disbelief melts into curiosity¡ªwhat in hell is happening? Is this a prank? But when Claire follows it with, "Michelle Alcantara''s here. And she says she''s coming back," the gravity of it sinks in, just as the door opens.

    "Hi, Gab," Michelle says cheerfully, like nothing ugly has happened in the past few weeks. "It''s so nice to see you again. I''m here to discuss our joint management of this company¡ªnow that the merger has been finalized."

    Michelle smiles. It''s a smile that''s so sweet with secret poison. It''s a smile that Gabriel only knows too well. He''s so shocked that he actually blurts out, "Holy fu?k."

 Chapter 68 - The Big Shocker

    "What merger are you talking about?" Gabriel says, but deep inside he already has an inkling¡ªand it all feels ugly. Like someone has pulled out the carpet from under him.

    "Come on, Gabriel," Michelle says, still with that smile on her face. "You know what I''m talking about. The merger. The one you and your chief finance officer have been cooking up with one of my companies. Relentless Holdings, remember?"

    Michelle''s words burn in Gabriel''s brain. Relentless Holdings. Oh my God. How did this happen? This is impossible. Whatever happened to the supposed due diligence performed by his top finance persons, his legal team? Gabriel grinds his teeth. He feels betrayed. He smells a rat. But who among his people, he has no freaking idea.

    "I''m here because I need to personally take care of my business interest," Michelle says, parking her ?ss on one of Gabriel''s luxuriously cushioned seats.

    "No," Gabriel says, and it comes off almost as a yell. "Get out."

    "Oh my," Michelle says, appearing offended. She glances at Claire who''s standing in a corner, as if to say, "Look how I am being treated here by your boss."

    "Get out, Michelle, before I forget that I have already come to terms with what you''ve done to me."

    "Come on, Gab," Michelle says. "Past is past. Let''s move on. Start acting like an ?du?t. I come here bearing the dove of peace."

    "No," Gabriel mutters. "Get up and get out. Don''t force me to throw you out."

    Michelle bolts up in outrage. "How dare you. The ink hasn''t yet dried on the contract, yet you''re starting to self-destruct. I have a right to be here!"

    "The only right you have is to get out of my fu?k?n? face," Gabriel hisses. He''s all red in the face. His eyes are on fire. Even Claire starts to feel like she should get out, too. Don''t get in this man''s way. Gabriel turns and sees on his desk his trenta-sized Starbucks drink, and in a mad moment flings it with such fury in Michelle''s general direction. Michelle ducks just in time; the coffee explodes like a supernova on the white lacquered wall.

    "You''re crazy," Michelle huffs, her eyes round and bulging in disbelief. "You''re crazy! You could have hit me, Gabriel!"

    "Get out!" Gabriel hisses.

    "Alright, alright!" Michelle yells. "But I''ll come back. You better be straight in the head when I do, Gabriel. I have a significant stake in this new company. Stop acting like a child or¡ª"

    Michelle never finishes her words as she dashes out when she sees Gabriel trying to yank out a painting off the wall to throw at her.

    "Jesus Henry Christ, Mister Tan," Claire mutters after Michelle slams the door shut. "You''re throwing furniture at a woman! You could have hurt her!"

    Gabriel never manages to throw the painting, which he currently holds awkwardly. "Goddamn it," he says, hyperventilating. "Goddamn it. Who are the idiots who¡­Who¡­" He turns to Claire. "I can''t even begin to fathom what has happened, Claire. Either my people are such monumental idiots, or somebody betrayed me."

    "I don''t understand," Claire says, still standing a safe distance from him. "What merger is she talking about?"

    "My holdings company," he says. "Months ago, we started exploring ideas to further expand our business, so we sought partners with the particular business expertise that we need. One of those who aggressively proposed was a company called Relentless Holdings. Their proposal was good. It was the most equitable, as far as these mergers go. But it turns out Relentless is owned by Michelle."

    "How could that happen?" Claire mutters, her mind reeling from the gravity of this realization. She''s as stunned as Gabriel. "Didn''t you investigate first?"

    "That''s what I''m trying to wrap my head around," he says. "We didn''t just jump into this thing. We did due diligence. I saw the numbers. None of the data pointed back to Michelle Alcantara, goddamnit."

    "That''s not¡­" Claire stops, staring at him like she''s trying to connect something. "I don''t understand. You broke up with Michelle only a couple of weeks ago. You started working on this merger months ago, you say. If that''s true, then Michelle has been doing things behind your back for much longer than you knew."

    Gabriel stares at her. He looks at the painting he''s carrying and quietly returns it on the wall. "I know that, Claire. That''s why we''re here now. That''s why you''re here now. What I didn''t know is that she''s been trying to cheat on me even through my business. I couldn''t find one good reason why she would send one of her companies¡ªwhich was totally unknown to me¡ªto try to undermine my control."

    "Hmmm," Claire sighs. "The proposal from Relentless seemed so good because, as your fianc¨¦e, Michelle knew everything."

    "You see what kind of snake I''m dealing with here, Claire."

    "Now I have a ton of things to settle. This is a massive failure on the part of my own legal team, my finance team. Oh, God. Heads will roll, goddamnit. Heads will roll. I won''t stop until I find out whose fault this is."

    "Is there anything I can do?" Claire says, her voice quiet. She knows she might actually be utterly useless, but she had to ask. She''s hoping Gabriel would at least ask for a hug. She wants to tell him what Michelle told her, how Michelle didn''t believe his new engagement. But she feels that would only add to his growing sense of failure. If Gabriel, right now, at this mad moment, asks her for a kiss, she might be persuaded to give it all to him.

    But Gabriel, his mind is already elsewhere. "No, thank you," he says. "I just need to be alone."

    The words sting. She didn''t expect that. "Okay. I''ll be out there if you need anything."

    Gabriel says nothing.

    As she walks out of the room, everyone is standing and staring at her. "Alright, people. The show''s over," she yells. That sends everyone scampering back to their cubicles.

    Back at her desk, Claire tries not to overthink Gabriel''s words. "No, thank you," he said. "I just need to be alone," he said. Not even a "no, thank you, Claire." Like she didn''t matter. Claire sighs. The plot thickens. And things are getting uglier. She''s no longer sure if she can even stand being here for the remaining days of her contract. Because as things stand right now, Claire couldn''t see the point of it all.

 Chapter 69 - The Heads that will Roll

    "Conference room, five minutes," Gabriel mutters to the phone. On the other end, Mrs. Gomez, Gabriel''s trusty old receptionist and the de-facto executive ?ssistant (because Claire wouldn''t handle this, he knows), trembles¡ªshe knows something bad is up.

    Mrs. Gomez is grace under pressure¡ªshe calls up the entire Legal Department and Finance Department of TXCI Holdings, which occupy offices on the lower floors of the building. Gabriel is pissed; she has never seen him this angry, not since the breakup with Michelle. It seems rage is, well, all the rage right now, with Gabriel.

    Meanwhile, in his office, Gabriel is solemnly putting on his suit. His eye catches the coffee-stained wall, the first casualty of his anger, and realizes it looks like a world, a galaxy that exploded. Well, if what Michelle had the liver to tell him here, his world is indeed exploding.

    What stews in his brain is shock. Disbelief. The merger was supposedly routine; this wasn''t the first time he sought it as a means for his business'' growth. There were set protocols. People knew what had to be done. So what went wrong? Who fu?k?d up? And perhaps most importantly, who betrayed him?

    He steps out of the office and sees Claire slumped at her desk. For a small moment, he feels sorry for her. There are a lot of things he wants to explain to her, but there''s no time. Not yet. Not now. And maybe, if Michelle is really setting up office in this building, right here on this floor just to rub salt on his wound, then he needs to revisit his arrangement with Claire. Keep her out of harm''s way. It won''t do her good to be so near this fire.

    Claire sees him and immediately she stands up. "Gabriel," she says. "Do you need me?"

    He gazes at her. Of course, he needs her. He needs her in his mess of a life. He is consumed with this deep longing to spend every moment of his life with her. But it stays on the tip of his tongue; always on the tip of his tongue. He''s still not in a good place as far as his heart is concerned. And with what''s happening right now, Gabriel realizes this might not be a good time to fall in love. Maybe he should keep things professional. Kill this love, as the popular song goes.

    So he says, "I''m fine, Bella. You can take the rest of the day off."

    That''s it. He turns his back on her like she means nothing. Like she''s nothing more than an employee. As if the past few days never happened. But the look on her face when he said that¡ªit will haunt him.

    But an interloper has slipped past his defenses and infiltrated his empire. This problem needs all his attention, his energy. This is the worst time for gentleness.

    Meanwhile, Claire doesn''t know what to feel. How could Gabriel suddenly turn cold and distant? Doesn''t he need her at a time like this? Why are men such ?ssholes when it comes to their true feelings? Or maybe Claire''s insecurity and self-doubt actually had a basis¡ªthat she''d been deluded into thinking that her boss actually cared about her. So when Gabriel told her she can actually go home, even if it''s still mid-day, Claire suddenly finds her entire afternoon empty. She watches Gabriel walk away. Everything suddenly feels different. As though the world has just turned upside-down.

    Everyone who matters is already in the conference room when Gabriel arrives. It''s a room full of suits, Gabriel thinks, but no brains. His rage burbles underneath his cool exterior. These are the people who should have helped him avoid the huge fu?k-up that is Michelle Alcantara''s Relentless Holdings getting a foothold in his own empire. Imagine the audacity of that coup d''¨¦tat. Imagine that.

    He takes his usual place at the head of the conference table. No one''s speaking. No one even dares to clear their throat or fake-coughs or makes the slightest noise with whatever paper they''re holding. Perhaps everyone''s holding their breath.

    "I want to know what in hell happened," Gabriel begins. He turns to his chief finance officer, a silver-haired man with an unlikely smooth face. "Who vetted for Relentless Holdings?"

    "I-uhh," the man mutters, but words seem to have lodged in his throat.

    "Is there a problem with them?" a younger lawyer at the other end of the table says. "The merger has been finalized weeks ago. You''ve signed the documents."

    There''s something about that tone that makes Gabriel snap. "I know I signed the documents," he says. "But who in hell checked every nook and cranny of that company''s business? Its decision makers? Its goddamn provenance?"

    "I-uhh," the CFO tries again. "We all checked it, Gabriel. It''s a good company. Stable. Has been in business for decades. Boasts of a well-diversified portfolio. Everything checks out."

    "Really?" Gabriel snickers, but it drips with menace. ""Really, Ferdinand? Everything checks out? Then why in hell Michelle walked into my office this morning, claiming ownership of Relentless Holdings?"

    "Michelle who?" one of them has the balls to ask.

    "Michelle Alcantara," Gabriel says. "THAT Michelle."

    The room vibrates with surprised murmurs. "Oh, my God," a voice from the other side of the room is heard. "How could that happen?"

    "Holy fu?k," Ferdinand, the CFO, says.

    Gabriel turns to him. "No, no, no, no, no, no. This is not a ''holy fu?k'' moment. This is a run-for-your-life scenario."

    "Maybe there''s a loophole in the merger contract we can exploit," someone from Legal says. "If they''d hidden Michelle''s ownership of the holdings company, then maybe we can declare the merger null and void."

    Gabriel says nothing. He scans everyone''s faces. These are supposedly the best talents, the finest minds money can buy. And yet here they are, a bunch of idiots, outsmarted by the same woman who had also outsmarted him. And that''s the very thing he couldn''t accept, the thing that drives him so mad.

    Gabriel stands up. "I want to know how Relentless Holdings has ended up in Michelle Alcantara''s hands. I want to know every little detail. Everything by Friday. Or else, you are all fired. Every single one of you."

    He turns and leaves; he doesn''t even have to slam the door shut. The silence he has left in the conference room is deafening. The company''s top legal minds, the vice presidents, all look at one another with a big question mark in their faces. They''re all clueless. And that''s what only makes it worse: they''re supposed to be on top of everything.

    Outside, it has begun raining, and he could see the city getting soaked up as he walks along the glass-walled hallway. He gazes at the dark clouds still churning over the city, and somehow, he feels these clouds are there to mourn him, to commiserate with his failure,to mirror the storm in his heart.

    While in the elevator, he''s thinking of one thing: Maybe it''s time he stopped this charade with Claire Monteverde. Clearly, it''s not working. Yes, that''s it. He will tell her tomorrow. Find the right moment to tell her he''s ending his fake engagement with her, all so he could meet Michelle''s challenge head-on.

    But when the elevator doors ding open, and he steps out into the lobby, he sees Claire standing there, by the entrance door, watching the rain. Even from this distance, Gabriel could see Claire''s face, so sad and beautiful. For some reason, the sight of her tugged at his heartstrings. Could he really¡­ But no. He cannot pursue this. This must end, he thinks. Then he walks away, taking a different route to avoid Claire. He doesn''t know Claire has seen him. He never saw how teary-eyed she is, and how she''s trying to walk in the rain, so that no one sees that she has been crying.

 Chapter 70 - The Fall of the Ice Queen

    Has anyone died from walking in the rain? Claire has no idea. But since Gabriel told her she''s free to take the rest of the day off, and she thinks maybe she could give the chauffeur some "me time" too and not call him up, she has decided to just take the sidewalk. Revel in the overcast weather. This midday rainstorm is rare, especially in these months, and it brings with it so much melancholy. Perhaps walking all the way to the Residence will help clear her head.

    That''s what she has been telling herself. But the truth is, she has been on the verge of tears even while the elevator descends. She''s confused, really. Why does she feel this way, anyway? It''s not like Gabriel had told her to disappear from his life. Other "employees" would be happy to get a precious half-day. So why does she feel like when Gabriel told her to take the rest of the day off, it sounded like a death sentence.

    The rain has faded into a drizzle, but as Claire didn''t use an umbrella, she''s soaked. People stare at her like an oddity. "Is she crazy?" she overheard one. "Are they filming a movie here? Is this a drama scene?" muttered another. "Is she a goddess?" she thought she''d heard one say, too, but maybe it''s just the voice in her head.

    She passes by the Starbucks where she used to get his coffee. For a split-second, Claire thinks of entering it and see of Brad is there. She stands by the threshold for a minute, undecided. Then she walks on¡ªGabriel, again. All these things. All these memories. Has she turned into a drama queen?

    Back in college, or high school even, Claire Monteverde was the Ice Queen, because she defended her lack of a lovelife as her own decision. "I''m too busy for boys," she''d say. "I''m just focusing now on completing my studies," she''d say. But the truth was, she had been longing for someone who could be with her, to share those nights when she''d been cramming for an important exam or writing a thesis paper. But she intimidated all the boys, and the few that managed to actually date her and get the dubious privilege of being called her "official boyfriend" were social misfits, anyway, the dates awkward and insufferable, leaving her more scarred than hopeful. Long story short, no one has "popped her cherry," as the slang goes. Worse, Claire didn''t really "grow up" in an emotional sense; despite her striking beauty and intellect, she''s just a little girl, waiting for someone to love. And she''s na?ve to the core, never realizing that accepting Gabriel''s job offer of posing as his fake fianc¨¦e would change her, trap her in a vicious cycle of hope and despair, love and melancholy.

    All these thoughts run through Claire''s head now, and she feels like drowning. She looks up at the sky, and the gray clouds offered little reprieve.

    "You''re quite early, Ma''am," Dale greets her as she walks absent-mindedly into the Residence''s lobby. "And you''re wet! Did you have an accident? You could get sick!"

    "Then that''s good because I want to die," she mutters, but a voice in her head simultaneously berates her with, "Don''t be a goddamn fool, woman."

    Dale laughs awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to that. "Let me ?ssist you to your suite, Ma''am. You need fresh, dry towels and maybe a soak in warm water."

    "What I need is love," Claire slurs, as though she''s drunk even when she''s not. "The kind of love that won''t tell me to take the rest of the day off just because his ex-fianc¨¦e paid him a visit!"

    "I, uhh," Dale stammers, "I''m not sure about¡­ Are you okay, Ma''am?"

    "I''m okay, of course, I''m okay," she says. "I''m just¡­" Then she remembers the lyrics of a song she''d overheard on her way here. "¡­Dying inside¡­to hold you¡­" she says in sing-song.

    Now Dale is panicking. He''s thinking maybe he should call up the big boss, Gabriel Tan, and report this strange behavior. Because you don''t come in soaking wet, if you''re still normal, right?

    "Please wait for me here, Ma''am, I''ll just call up someone at the reception desk. Will be gone for a sec," Dale begins to say.

    But Claire grabs his hand. "You''re going nowhere," she says. "Bring me to my lair, pronto!"

    Dale gazes at her and wonders if Miss Claire Monteverde''s under some kind of spell or something. Maybe some bad juju. But instead of repeating his question, he decides to go along with it. Maybe he''ll try to call up Mr. Tan once Miss Claire''s safely tucked away in her penthouse suite. "It will be my p???sur?, Miss Claire."

    Once inside the suite, Claire''s demeanor suddenly changes. As though she remembers who she is, where she is. "Thank you, Dale," she says calmly. "You can leave me now."

    "But Miss Claire," Dale protests. "You don''t seem¡ª"

    "I''m fine, Dale," she says. "I''m better than fine. I''m super fine. I''m supercalifragilisticexpialidocious fine."

    Yeah, right, Dale thinks. You say something like that, then you''re the opposite of being fine. But he plays along, promising himself to call up Mr. Tan once he''s out of her hair. "Alrighty, Miss Claire. Just press zero for ?ssistance, as always."

    Dale is supposed to say the rest of his concierge spiel but Claire has already shut the door to his face.

    Standing in the middle of the living room, Claire quietly takes off her blonde wig. She looks at it, as though it''s the first time she''s seeing it. Then she tosses it over to a corner. She walks toward her favorite place in the suite, the gorgeous Jacuzzi bathroom, the one with breathtaking views of the city below. She climbs into the Jacuzzi and sits in the middle of it, still with her wet dress on. She turns on the water, gazing wistfully at the city''s gray, rain-soaked skyline.

    Meanwhile, Dale''s on the phone as soon as he reaches the receptionist desk. But Gabriel wouldn''t seem to pick up. "That''s odd," he mutters to himself. "He said to call this direct line for anything that concerns Miss Claire." He makes a few more tries, then gives up. He then tries to call up Miss Cassandra, but his office phone on the second level of the Residence just rings and rings; Dale doesn''t remember if she had gone out.

    "This must be a bad day for things concerning Miss Claire," he thinks. Something really must have happened. He makes mental note of visiting Claire and asking how she''s doing later, before dinner time.

    At around 6 PM, just as when Dale''s about to go up the elevator to check on her, he hears a cheerful voice coming from the lobby. He cancels the lift and retraces his steps back to the reception area.

    "Oh, hey," Miguel says cheerfully, looking every bit like the man-god from wherever they produce gorgeous rich men. "Is Claire here yet?"

    Dale hesitates. If he answers yes, he might inadvertently be allowing an intrusion into Miss Claire''s privacy at a time when she probably needs to be alone the most. But then again, this is Miguel Tan, not just any other visitor. And maybe he will do, in the absence of his brother. Maybe Miguel could help decode the funk in which Claire seems to be in.

    "Miss Claire''s in her penthouse suite," Dale says. "Probably sleeping. But I can check her availability for you."

    "Sure," Miguel says. "Please tell her if she''d like to join me at the lounge. There''s something important I must tell her."

    Dale''s eyebrows very slightly arc at that. Since when did Gabriel Tan''s newcomer brother has been appointed to be the bearer of "important" news? But then again, Dale tries to remind himself, this is Miguel Tan. It would be foolish to be on Miguel''s bad side. So Dale, flashing his best smile, just says, "I''ll do my very best."

 Chapter 71 - The Lounge Meeting

    The doorbell must have been ringing for minutes before Claire realizes it''s actually happening. She opens her eyes. She had fallen asleep in the Jacuzzi, with still her dress on. Good thing the water''s deliciously warm. She stands up from the jetted tub; the water sloshes and overflows and creates a micro-tsunami in the bathroom. "I''m coming," she yells.

    She pads toward the front door, dripping wet. At the back of her mind, she promises to apologize later to the chambermaid, or whoever would be ?ssigned to clean up her room. When she finally opens the door, Dale''s eyes are big and wide.

    "What is it, Dale?"

    "Uhh, are you okay, Ma''am?"

    Claire rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. "I think so. I have fallen asleep. So I think I''m fine now."

    "That''s great to hear!" Dale scans her from head to toe. "But you seem soaking wet, Miss Claire. You''d get sick if you keep that up!"

    "Nah," she says. "It would take much more than a wet dress to make me sick." A beat. "So¡­what''s up?"

    "Oh, sorry," Dale says. "Miguel sent me up here to request your presence at the lounge."

    "Miguel?" she says. "We''re talking of Miguel Tan here, right?"

    "Yes, Ma''am."

    That''s odd, she thinks. What could be Miguel''s business? And at this hour at that. He wouldn''t have come here if it was not important.

    "Sir Miguel says it''s about something important," Dale says, as if reading her mind.

    "At the lounge, you say?" Claire mulls it over. "Give me fifteen minutes, okay?"

    But it takes Claire about an hour to fully get ready. She had to shower to "wash off the heartache," as she repeats in her mind, then it takes her thirty minutes to choose something to wear. Something that''s casual enough so Miguel won''t think she got ready just for him, but not too casual that Miguel would think she''s a slob. And while she''s at it, Claire realizes: Why do I care so much about what in hell Miguel thinks of me?

    In the end, she manages to choose something classy from her limited wardrobe: a white slip dress that''s so sultry it fantastically compliments her curves. "Thank you, as always, Miss Cassandra," she mutters as she looks at herself in the life-sized mirror. Then at the tail-end of that thought is this: Why is she trying to look good for Miguel Tan? Why should she even care?

    On the way to the lounge on the ground floor, as the elevator descends, Claire tries to resolve her own motivations. Sometimes she does things without really thinking them through; at times she entertains feelings that are unjustifiable. Like today, for instance: how she''s so emotionally vulnerable over things that other people would simply shrug away. She didn''t even have to feel sad or depressed; it had been just a normal day at the office. Michelle Alcantara visited and dropped a "bomb," no big deal. She shouldn''t have emotional attachments to whatever happens to Gabriel Tan''s personal life, correct?

    The lounge, as usual, is empty, save for its lone guest, whose back is to her. She knows that profile even from a distance. Miguel is very similar to Gabriel in many ways¡ªin fact, if you blink fast enough, you might even mistake one for the other. Miguel is wearing a white long-sleeved shirt¡ªwould he think she''s also wearing white because of him?¡ªbut there''s something about how he carries himself, that air of confidence, that in-born sense of privilege, that somehow elevates whatever he''s wearing into something that only a signature brand exudes.

    Miguel stands up upon seeing her. "Hello, there," he greets. He acts as the perfect gentleman, ushering her to her seat.

    Claire smiles sweetly as she takes the seat. "So," she says. "What earns me the p???sur? of your visit?"

    Miguel laughs nervously. "Oh, well," he begins. "Would you like something to drink, at least, for starters? Your poison of choice?"

    Scotch on the rocks, double, is what comes to Claire''s mind, and inevitably, Jake Magno, too. She cringes inwardly. "I''ll just have water, please. My throat is parched."

    "Really?" Miguel says. "On a rainy day like this?"

    "Well," she plays along, "the rain doesn''t reach what''s inside of me. So¡­"

    "You look lovely tonight," he says.

    Claire makes a face. "Don''t I always?" She grins.

    "Attagirl!" Miguel laughs. "That''s the spirit. Always believe in yourself."

    "Funny you should say that," she says, "because I''m not exactly feeling awesome about myself lately."

    "How so?"

    "Haven''t you heard?"

    "What have I not heard?" Miguel''s curiosity is piqued.

    Claire gazes at him, trying to guess if he''s being truthful or just pretending ignorance. "Are you sure you don''t know yet?"

    Miguel holds his palms up. "I honestly don''t know. If this concerns my brother, then I''m sure I have no idea. Haven''t spoken to him, yet. Although I intend to, very soon."

    Claire sighs. "She''s back. And she has turned your brother''s life upside-down, it seems, for the umpteenth time."

    "Wait, are we talking about his ex-fianc¨¦e here? Michelle?"

    Claire nods.

    "How is that possible? And how do you mean ''she''s back''?"

    Claire tells him. All the details of the day''s drama, or at least, as far as she knows. She leaves out the part where she sentimentally walked in the rain, though.

    "Unbelievable," he mutters. "But I guess you can expect Michelle to fight back. I''ve always thought she''d never give up that easily. It''s not in her character."

    She shrugs. "How about you?" she says. "You said you have something important to tell me. What is it?"

    Miguel stops. He takes a long pull of the beer, as though he''s trying to channel some courage from it. "I don''t even know how to break this to you, but I''ll say this as simple as I can." He takes a deep breath as he gazes at her. "Claire, I know everything."

    "What do you mean?"

    "Everything. As in everything. Your arrangement with my brother. The whole plan. The Red Contract. Everything."

    But all these questions, they lodge in her throat, and the only thing she manages to say is, "I guess the cat''s out of the bag now."

    Miguel doesn''t speak for a while. He just gazes at her, as though weighing his next words. "Claire," he says, "that''s just beside the point of why I''m here. I''m here because I like you." He reaches out for her hand across the table, and squeezes it gently. "I like you very much."

 Chapter 72 - The "Bomb" Miguel Drops

    Miguel''s hand is surprisingly rough, like it has gone through some bit of hard work. And to Claire, it feels so warm it''s almost as if it''s burning. "Sorry," she mutters, as she politely withdraws her hand. She''s not a total prude or anything, but she''s thoroughly confused right now. She doesn''t even know what to say or feel. Everything''s so overwhelming.

    "I really like you, Claire," Miguel repeats, gazing at her so intently that Claire''s compelled to look away. "I would even say I love you, but you won''t believe that. We''ve practically just met a few days ago. Of course, love should only arise after you''ve been with a person for a fair amount of time, after you''ve gone through experiences, created memories you''ll cherish for a lifetime. We don''t yet have that, but I promise you, we will."

    Is this real, Claire thinks. Am I right here, right now, and is this truly happening? "Miguel, I can''t¡­But what about Karen?"

    "What about her?"

    "Aren''t you two together?"

    "Oh no," Miguel laughs. "I befriended her only because I wanted to know more about you."

    "Do you mean you''ve learned about my job arrangement with Gabriel through her?"

    "No, I got it from other¡­reliable sources. Also, it''s not hard to connect the dots. Seriously, I couldn''t believe that Gabriel would quickly bounce back from his break-up with Michelle. So when I was told that you''re supposedly engaged with him, I thought that you were either just some rebound girl, or it was all a sham."

    Claire mulls it over for a moment. Now it appears that it''s only Gabriel in the entire world who thinks he could fool everyone else with this little charade. And she''s in on it.

    "So what do you think?" Miguel says.

    "What do I think about what?"

    "About me," he smiles. It''s a handsome smile, as though he''s trying to win her over. Claire tries to resist swooning over that smile by focusing her stare on her glass of water.

    "I don''t know, Miguel. My head"¡ªand heart¡ª"is full of things right now. And besides, I can''t entertain anyone or date anyone while I''m still under contract. At least I have to hold my end of the bargain with Gabriel."

    "Well, you can go out on a date with me as Bella Xavier."

    "What?" Claire''s besides herself in shock. "You know about that, too?"

    "I told you I know everything." He grins.

    Jesus, Claire thinks. So this is all useless. Imagine how they''d gone through great lengths in order to create this complex drama, only to be unraveled by someone like Miguel not a few days of his arrival.

    "Let me talk to Gabriel," he says. "Just to keep things clean and simple. After all, you''re not really engaged with each other. I''m sure he won''t mind. But I''ll ask his blessing as a formality."

    Yeah, Gabriel will say, sure, go ahead, take this girl, Claire thinks, not without a pang of bitterness.

    "Listen, Miguel, I''m not sure if this is a good idea."

    "Why not? It''s just a date. A totally harmless date. Maybe we''ll just have dinner. Talk. I''d like to get to know more about you."

    Claire gazes at him. The truth is, Miguel''s an incredible catch. Any girl would go crazy about him. What''s not to like? He''s rich, he''s incredibly handsome, he''s oozing with s?x appeal. In fact, Claire''s not sure if she''s truly awake; she feels as if she''s dreaming. Maybe she''s delirious with fever after walking in the rain earlier, and Dale would barge into her suite any moment now to slap her across the face and shake her out of the dream.

    "Please slap me," she suddenly says.

    "What?" Miguel''s face is half-amused, half-curious.

    "Please slap me, and slap me hard."

    Miguel grins. "Are you even serious?"

    She grabs him by the collar and screams, "PLEASE SLAP ME MIGUEL TAN BECAUSE I THINK I''M DREAMING!"

    And Miguel is so surprised that he panics for a moment, and gives her a backslap across the face.

    "Ouch! Why did you slap me!"

    "Because you told me so!"

    "You didn''t have to slap me THAT hard!"

    "I''m sorry," Miguel says. He''s trying hard not to laugh. "I''m sorry. Please, return the favor. Slap me even harder. I can take it."

    "Really? Because I really feel like slapping someone now," she says, her left cheek still so red.

    "Go ahead and slap m¡ª"

    He never finishes as Claire slaps him like she means it.

    "Ouch!" Miguel holds his right cheek like it''s about to fall off. "That was hard. Like there''s anger in it!"

    Both of them are giggling like crazy. There are actual tears in Claire''s eyes. "At least, now I''m sure I''m not dreaming," Claire says. "And that Miguel Tan really told me he likes me."

    Miguel''s laughter slowly dies down. "This is not a joke, Claire. I''m not kidding. I''m serious about you."

    Claire stops laughing, too. "I''m sorry," she says. "But really, it''s a lot to process. Also, and I''m saying this not to offend you, I really don''t like rich, handsome guys with biceps like those"¡ªshe actually playfully stabs a finger into Miguel''s biceps¡ª"Not my type. I usually fall for the greasy, unfashionable ones. If you have a beer belly or something, that would be really hot!"

    Claire says that like she actually means it; yet, inside, she''s dying of laughter.

    Miguel gazes at her, trying to fathom her words. He''s so confused because he''s not used to being treated like this, not by any girl. He''s used to getting chased, and he''s had them all: the high-society ones, the celebrities, the fashion models. The truth is, he''s quite unsure of what he really feels¡ªhe has been intrigued by Claire''s cheerfulness, and he finds her personality refreshing. She''s candid, she''s bubbly, and she has this kind of beauty that seems to light up a room whenever she enters. "Luminous" is perhaps the best word to describe her.

    And Claire treating his confession of affection lightly, like it''s all a big joke to her, is totally confusing and disorienting for someone like Miguel Tan. It''s the kind of confusion that would soon melt into some sort of melancholy. And for a man who''s so used to getting what he wants, Claire''s response is like a kick in the balls.

    "Alright," Miguel says. "You don''t have to give me an answer tonight. You don''t have to do anything at all. It''s enough for me that you know." He smiles.

    Claire looks intently, deeply into his eyes, trying to find there the truth. "You cannot possibly like me," she mutters. "As you said, you''ve just met me. How can it be possible that suddenly you''re professing these feelings for me?"

    "I didn''t believe in love at first sight, Claire," he says. "But here I am. Honestly, I''m unsure of what I''m going through. The only thing I know is I''ve never stopped thinking about you ever since I met you a couple of days ago. I couldn''t forget your smile, the way you say words like, ''Jesus Henry Christ''"¡ªhe laughs¡ª"or when you curse under your breath, or when you look at a person sideways and tilts your head at an angle. Or when you tuck your hair behind an ear." Miguel sighs. "Everything about you, everything you do, fascinates me."

    The more Miguel talks, the more Claire is running out of things to say. Deeply, she''s touched by his words. Nobody has ever said things like that to her. Even her fake fianc¨¦ didn''t think of crafting such a script for public consumption, as part of their so-called "show." Is it possible, then, that Miguel is telling the truth and not just trying to pull her leg or list her as one of his conquests? Because surely, after having a run of the usual celebrities and social media influencers and fashion models, Miguel must be jaded enough to actually pursue some nobody like her, you know, just for shits and giggles. But to believe in this man is to engage in a high-risk game. Miguel won''t be broken; she would. And there''s the rub. Claire''s heart is the most vulnerable thing in the world right now, and it doesn''t take more than a whisper to break it. So she''s guarding it with everything she''s got.

    "So what do you say to a dinner?" Miguel insists.

    She pauses for a moment, thinking about it. She doesn''t want to reject him outrightly, but she also doesn''t want to give him any hint that she likes him or something. This is too tricky to navigate. But in the end, she decides that honesty is still best.

    "I don''t know, Miguel," she says. "I''m sorry, but maybe, I''m too shocked and this hasn''t sunk in. What do you say we both sleep on it, then let''s just cross the bridge when we get there?"

    It''s practically a non-answer. It''s just Claire, saying, leave me alone because I''m too tired to have to think about this. But Miguel, upon hearing it, suddenly jumps from his seat like a child in glee. "Terrific! That means the door is open!"

    Claire panics. "Wait, I didn''t say anything¡ª"

    Miguel bends down and hugs her. "Thank you, Claire. You''ve made me happy. That''s enough for me, for now. I promise you won''t regret it. But I''ll leave for now. I believe you need some rest."

    Then he suddenly kisses her¡ªon the lips, just a smack, but a kiss nevertheless¡ªand Claire''s so shocked she sits there, stunned, long after Miguel has left, feeling utterly weird about the seemingly familiarity of this moment, its dejavu-ness, and wondering if she isn''t, in fact, wildly dreaming.

 Chapter 73 - The Miscommunication

    "Are you alright, Miss Claire?"

    It''s Dale, as always, asking her if there''s anything she might need. Sometimes Claire wonders: How much does Gabriel pay Dale to take care of me? Because as things look, Dale must be excellently paid.

    Dale''s words yank her out of her reverie. "Oh, sorry. I think I''m too sleepy that I''m now fading."

    Dale smiles. "Sir Miguel has left. Was your meeting with him to your satisfaction?"

    "I''m not sure," she mutters, because truly she isn''t sure. "It''s the strangest meeting."

    Dale looks at her, but decides it''s not his place to pry. "Perhaps you would like me to accompany you to your suite, Ma''am?"

    "Oh, I''m alright, Dale," she says, standing up. "I''m fine. I think I''ll walk myself to the elevator now and retire."

    "Good night, Miss Claire."

    "Good night."

    Even as Claire speaks, her mind is elsewhere. This is torture. Truly. In her heart is a mish-mash of feelings she doesn''t fully understand. But what if she tries to approach this logically? What if she deconstruct all the elements of her current dilemma?

    Upon entering her suite, she''s surprised to find it clean and in excellent order. There''s even a feast on the table. Claire makes a mental note of telling Lucille or Dale to stop putting so much food on her dining table¡ªit''s just so wasteful. Either they have a plan of making her hopelessly fat at the end of her tenure, or they''re just trying to cook everything in the Residence''s gigantic walk-in freezer, which had been sitting there ever since Gabriel repurposed the building into her own sole address. Claire shakes her head involuntarily, as she realizes these are the things she might miss when it''s over. But then again, she had lived for a long time without anything, so it should not be a big deal to return to being nothing, a nobody.

    Absent-mindedly, she picks up a piece of fruit¡ªeverything else will go to waste, she thinks, and she''s almost tempted to say a silent prayer of apology to the turkey and cow and pig that had been slaughtered to be part of this standby feast¡ªand tentatively bites into it as she recalls the evening''s meeting. It was hardly a meeting but a confession, if unusual at that.

    The turn of events these past few days is baffling. It''s too much to take. With Gabriel seemingly occupied with his problem with Michelle, there seems no one Claire can turn to for guidance, and for answers to burning questions such as: Does she continue "working" as executive ?ssistant to Gabriel, especially now that Michelle might also set up office in the same building? How crazy is that? Good thing his engagement with Gabriel is fake; if it were genuine, Claire wouldn''t know what to feel, knowing her sweetheart had been hoodwinked into signing a merger contract with the very woman he had vowed to take revenge on.

    More and more, she''s led into questioning the wisdom of Gabriel''s plan. She should tell him or remind him that maybe it''s high time he reconsidered, or at least change the direction of his plans. Michelle Alcantara, it turns out, is not someone to trifle with. She''s smart and cunning, and possibly dangerous, and Gabriel, with his eccentricities and his temper, might be no match to that woman.

    Maybe they should just admit it. Or perhaps Gabriel should just drop the news to Michelle one day that he and his supposedly new fianc¨¦e have broken up. Whether or not Claire would still be part of the plan from then on, she wouldn''t make any presumptions¡ªthey''ll cross the bridge, as they say, when they get there.

    Meanwhile, as there are no new instructions from Gabriel, they''d just keep things as they are. Keep the status quo, so to speak. She''d go to the office, try to glean as much as possible from the company''s corporate culture, which may help her when she finds a real job later on. She''d play things by ear, and change plans or adjust by the day. Looks like a solid plan, isn''t it, Claire? She chews the apple, and is delighted to find it''s still crunchy.

    Now, how about Miguel, that crazy little brother? Oh, God. Truth be told, Claire is flattered. The words uttered by Miguel earlier that night had never been uttered to him by anyone, prince or pauper, tycoon or salaryman. No one. And it had to be Miguel. She doesn''t know what to think. Of course, it''s easy to get seduced by the fact of it. She can imagine another woman who would easily jump into the opportunity. This is different from the job offer Gabriel made to her, though. This is no job offer. There are real, and possibly painful and life-changing stakes here.

    Miguel is not really bad-looking. He''s the quintessential playboy¡ªhappy-go-lucky, devil-may-care dashing debonair. And that''s both the awesome and bad parts. Awesome because she''s also attracted to him, somehow. He looks almost exactly like Gabriel, for crying out loud! And in some ways, he looks prettier¡ªthat is, if real feelings will only be based on physical beauty, then she has no reason to have second thoughts about Miguel. Add to that is the fact that she wouldn''t have to work a day in her life if Miguel''s serious about spending his life with her. On top of all these things, Miguel has been nothing but nice to people¡ªnone of Gabriel''s temper, tantrums, and sudden flashes of rage. Miguel seems truly alright.

    On the other hand, no one can ever be sure of a person''s feelings. And she''s put here at a severe disadvantage. She has no experience. She''s the Virgin Princess, as Gabriel would have it. Would she be able to glean if Miguel''s simply manipulating her? Would she sense it if Miguel''s just testing her, or just intends to "experience" her? Miguel can easily make her fall in love¡ªhe must know the right moves, what bu??ons to push, and in no time she would be so dependent on him and desperately in love with him. And there''s the rub¡ªdesperation makes a person unattractive, and when that happens, would Miguel still say he loves her and wants to spend his life with her?

    Claire is deeply thinking and weighing the pros and cons of these possibilities that it is giving her a headache. And a heartache. She gazes longingly at the dining table, realizing she had not eaten anything since morning. Her stomach has begun to grumble. Oh, how does she respond to Miguel? How does she make sense of what she''s feeling¡ªshe''s frightened and excited and titillated and hopeful and full of despair all at the same time. All these thoughts and feelings fight for space in her head and heart that it''s all driving her crazy. Is this the reason why people who are driven to the brink of despair almost always shoot themselves in the head or in the heart?

    She''s about to yank out the leg of the roasted turkey when the phone rings. She merely stares at it, thinking it must be Miguel. The phone rings and rings. After maybe the twentieth ring, the phone finally falls silent. Claire breathes a sigh of relief¡ªthis has been quite a long day. She''s done with it. She doesn''t want any more addition to her ongoing drama.

    Meanwhile, on the other end of the phone line, Gabriel wonders what happened to Claire. After a few meetings with his most trusted ?ssociates, and getting a clear picture of what happened, Gabriel''s mood has somehow lightened up. He has time to realize what a d??k he was toward Claire earlier in the day. He''s sitting alone in his office, surrounded by things that make him remember Claire, and he''s overcome with remorse. Claire has been nothing but nice to him. She has always tried to make him happy. So he calls her up in her penthouse suite¡ªbut strangely, no one''s picking up. Either Claire is not there, which would be highly unlikely, given the hour (he doesn''t want to actually check her GPS location at this time because, hey, give her a break and stop spying on her, will you, Gabriel?) or Claire''s mad at him. Maybe he has pissed her off, having treated her like dirt soon after Michelle left the office.

    Oh, Claire, Gabriel thinks as he puts down the phone. "I''m sorry," he mutters to the silence of his office, "but please hang on. We''ll sort everything out. And hopefully, we''ll get through this."

 Chapter 74 - The Beer Belly

    Claire has steeled her resolve to act normal at the office. So when Gabriel arrives, she puts on her fakest smile and greets him with a cheerful, "Good morning, Mr. Tan," in full view of everyone else in the office."

    "Good morning," Gabriel replies, smiling. He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, as though he''s about to say something. In his head, he wants to ask Claire why she didn''t pick up the phone last night, where was she, don''t tell me you''re out on another date, et cetera. But all these questions simmer down inside his head; after all, he doesn''t want to sound like a nag. He was the ?sshole yesterday; don''t add another dimension to your ever-worsening reputation, Gabriel.

    "Is there something you want to say?" Claire asks innocently.

    He smiles. "Oh, no, nothing."

    "So how was the¡­" Claire is about to ask about what happened to Michelle and the status of the so-called merger, but changes her mind. As she promised to herself last night, she would let Gabriel divulge things; she won''t pre-empt him too much. Less talk, less mistake.

    "How was what?" Gabriel says.

    "Oh, nothing," she smiles. "Your coffee awaits you at your desk, Mr. Tan."

    He nods tentatively. "Alright, thank you, Bella," he says aloud for everyone to hear.

    That was strange, Claire thinks. Gabriel seems like a walking zombie, like he''s not himself today. "I wonder what happened with him yesterday?"

    Claire even interprets the way Gabriel firmly closes the door to be saying, "Don''t disturb me." While on Gabriel''s part, he''s so absent-minded because of his internal mental confusion that he merely uses an elbow to close the door, and it ends up slamming shut loudly. Like he hates her. He stands momentarily behind the closed door and thinks of opening it and re-closing it gently, just so Claire would not think he''s in a foul mood again. But then, he feels silly. "You''re overthinking," he mutters to himself. "Stop it."

    Claire feels a pang of sadness as can be expected, but she sighs and tells herself, one day at a time. Don''t overthink. No, don''t over-feel. This is all just a job, and it will be over soon.

    Last night, she decided she''d let things run their course. She''d just let Gabriel decide what to do with their pretend engagement or whatever. Anything Gabriel wants, she''d just play along, without feelings or emotion. Eyes on the prize, she keeps telling herself. Eyes on the prize, Claire. After thirty days, you''re free.

    She''s sipping her coffee when a man who somehow looks eerily familiar arrives and walks directly straight to her desk.

    "May I help you?"

    "Bella," the man says. "We''re going out today, remember?"

    It takes Claire a moment to realize the man''s actually Miguel, and she''s so surprised she almost snorts the coffee through her nose. "Oh, my God, is it really you?"

    "Yeah," Miguel says proudly. He puts his hands on his h?ps to let Claire see his fake beer belly in all its glory. He''d also put on a totally comical wig, and matched it with clothes so ill-fitting you''d think he''d stolen them from some old person''s laundry. "You said last night that having a beer belly would be totally hot, so here I am."

    Claire couldn''t help but giggle. This is crazy. "I was kidding! How can you get out of your apartment looking like that?"

    "I told you I am serious," Miguel says. "If this is what it takes to make you say yes, then so be it."

    "But your fake belly looks so bad, it''s like the special effects used in a cheap movie."

    Miguel shrugs. "So later tonight, I''ll come back for you?"

    Claire says nothing. All the other employees are giving them curious glances. This may look bad for Gabriel, her boss. "I''m sorry, but this may be a tad inappropriate, Miguel."

    "How come?"

    "It''s too early in the morning, and I haven''t even started working¡ª"

    Miguel laughs. He bends down and whispers to her ear, "Claire, it''s not as if there''s actual work, you know."

    "Even so," Claire clears her throat and says aloud, "I have yet to clear you for your meeting with Sir Gabriel, Mister, uhh, Tan. You may please wait for a moment at the reception lobby."

    Miguel laughs. "Really?"

    Claire says under her breath, "Yes, really. For appearance''s sake, Miguel. Gabriel is already in a foul mood as it is."

    Clearly, Miguel is undaunted; he knows his brother, and he can handle him, bad mood or not. "Okay, I''ll wait. For my meeting. With my very own brother who I grew up with and who cannot hide any secret from me." He grins. "I''ll be out there with the hot and s?xy middle-aged cougar of a receptionist, Mrs. Gomez."

    Claire shakes her head. She grapples with an obvious dilemma: basically, Miguel wants to talk to his brother for "permission" to date her. She hasn''t even said yes, yet Miguel ?ssumes that the only permission he needs is that of Gabriel. But at least, Gabriel must know first; she doesn''t want to be caught in the middle of a spat between these two.

    She makes tentative knocks on the door. She peeps inside even before Gabriel could answer. "Sir Gabriel, may I disturb you for a moment?"

    Gabriel''s reading something on his computer monitor, but his face lights up upon seeing her. "Sure, Clai¡ªI mean, Bella. What is it?"

    Claire closes the door firmly. She hesitates. "Your brother''s here. He wants to speak with you."

    "My brother? You mean, Miguel?"

    She nods.

    Gabriel''s brow furrows. "What about? He could have just called me up. I have three phones. He''s just a few blocks from my place. He could have just¡­Wait, where is he?"

    "He''s outside."

    "Okay," Gabriel says, because seriously, he doesn''t know what to say anymore.

    Miguel enters with a big grin on his face. Gabriel stares at his brother, his mouth open.

    "What in hell is that?" Gabriel gestures towards Miguel''s outfit.

    "Oh, this?" Miguel snickers. "Claire said she likes unfashionable men with a beer belly, so I thought I''d humor her."

    "Really?" Gabriel mutters. "That''s interesting."

    "Which brings me to the reason why I''m here, Gab."

    "Why do I feel like I''m about to hear a laughably serious thing from you?" Gabriel says, smiling.

    "Well, this isn''t really ''serious'' serious because I know that your engagement with Claire isn''t real, so¡­"

    "What? Who told you that?"

    "I have reliable sources. Have you forgotten, I''m a Tan, too?"

    Gabriel says nothing, but his face says it all: he''s visibly upset that his most "previous" plan is starting to unravel.

    "I don''t want you to find out from someone else. I''d just like to let you know that¡­" Miguel hesitates because his older brother is staring at him like he''s afraid of what he''s about to say. "I''d just like to let you know that I''ve asked her out on a date."

    It takes a while for Gabriel to react. He arranges and rearranges himself on his bog boss chair, trying to appear cool and nonchalant, but the more he tries to hide it, the more his awkwardness and discomfort shows. And he can''t hide it from the person he grew up with.

    Miguel notices it, too, but he chooses to ignore it. At this point, he''s not ready to accept any response but yes.

    "I hope it''s okay with you," Miguel mutters.

    A beat. Then Gabriel flashes a big smile, probably the fakest smile he''s made in years. "And why would it be NOT okay with me? Of course, you can go out! Go crazy! The world is your oysters! Do whatever you want, it''s not like I own her." It''s not like I love her, Gabriel''s mind screams.

    Miguel''s face lights up. "That''s great to hear. I was afraid you''d say no. Don''t worry, if we''d ever go out, she''d go out as Bella, and not Claire."

    If Gabriel''s surprised that Miguel also knows about the Claire/Bella connection, he doesn''t bother to show it. "I''d just want to ask one thing, Miguel," he says.

    "Shoot."

    "Keep her safe, okay? She''s not like other women," Gabriel mutters, his voice heavy with rare gravitas. He speaks as though he won''t see Claire again.

    "You don''t have to worry," Miguel says. "You know me. I can handle women well."

    That''s what I''m afraid of, Gabriel thinks. All the "handling" you can possibly do to a girl like Claire.

 Chapter 75 - The Dilemma

    Miguel has left an hour ago, but Gabriel is still so stunned he has said nothing. He keeps staring at the door, which is closed for the moment. Outside that door, sits Claire, posing as Bella. Miguel wants to date Bella, but that also means he''s dating Claire, for all intents and purposes. And from the looks of it, his younger brother seems to have taken a liking for Claire. And Gabriel believes it¡ªwho would not like Claire? Who would not fall in love? After all, Miguel and him, they''re truly brothers, because they tend to fancy the same thing, even in women.

    Ten years ago Miguel dated Michelle. Miguel had been talking his ears off about "this fabulous girl I met at the party," to which he didn''t pay much attention because he thought Miguel was just being impressionable. Miguel would see cleavage, and he would fall in love instantly. He''d see a particular hairstyle on a girl, and he''d instantly declare undying and eternal affection. Miguel was young, much younger than he was, and Gabriel had gotten used to his younger brother''s fickle-mindedness. But when Miguel brought home Michelle to introduce to him, Gabriel was instantly smitten. And to his surprise, when it became obvious that Gabriel liked Michelle much more than Miguel, the younger one gave way. Miguel broke up with Michelle, citing some flimsy excuse. He then egged Gabriel on about asking Michelle out, to help nurse her broken heart. In no time, Gabriel and Michelle were steadily dating, and Miguel would often "remind" his older sibling of the "sacrifice" he had made.

    That was ten years ago. It would have been a good sacrifice, one that had a lifelong import, except Michelle turned out to be such a manipulative, overbearing, and cunningly ambitious woman who had latched on Gabriel''s money and growing success as subtly and yet tenaciously like some parasitic shadow. Having heard about what Michelle had done, Miguel had at times called him up and apologized for bringing to his life this kind of scourge.

    "Why are you saying sorry," Gabriel kept telling him. "Ten years ago, who knew what this woman would do? As they say, it''s all fair in love and war."

    "Yeah," Miguel would say, "but still."

    And now, although Miguel doesn''t say it, the mere fact that he didn''t do this over the phone and actually visited him in his office just to let him know he''d like to date Claire¡ªthis is Miguel trying to cash in from the Favor Bank. He''s like saying, I gave way for you; this time, can you do the same for me?

    There are so many things Gabriel wanted to say, but the problem is, most of those things are not official. For one, Miguel doesn''t know¡ªin fact, perhaps the whole world doesn''t know, not even Claire herself¡ªthat Gabriel has started to have genuine feelings for Claire. It all started when¡­wait a minute. He doesn''t know when it all started. It just grew within him. Maybe it germinated in those small moments, in those intimate conversations, in those small instances when he''s alone with Claire and she laughs her kind of laughter and the sunlight shines upon her hair and makes her glow in a strange way as though the universe is telling him, Gabriel, that She''s The One. How does he explain all that to Miguel, the pragmatic conquistador? He doesn''t even know if Miguel''s truly serious. For all he knew, his younger brother might just be in on it for the carnal p???sur?, the sick sense of accomplishment of adding someone like Claire Monteverde to his long list of conquests.

    Miguel''s dating Claire as her alternate persona, as Bella, in order to let his game play out, whatever the d?s?r?d outcome. And Gabriel''s hands are tied; he couldn''t say outright what he feels. He couldn''t say no. He couldn''t tell Claire to say no to his own younger brother. Because what possible reason could he give? Avoid Miguel like the plague, because he''s only after your body, shit like that? Brothers have a code. A Bro Code: Thou shall not ???k-block your own brother. He cannot possibly break that code.

    After all, many years ago, no matter how much Miguel had liked Michelle, he buried his own feelings and had given way to him. Shouldn''t Gabriel do his brother the same favor now?

    All such unspoken disposition, it''s driving him crazy. This is on top of his current problems with Michelle. He has yet to receive a more definite report on how Relentless Holdings happened. There was a break in the clouds, a little breakthrough, just last night. But it wasn''t enough. And now this: how does he even survive the day without breaking down?

    He hears little knocks on the door, and he knows that the only person who knocks like that is the lovely girl just outside his office.

    "Bella, come in."

    Claire enters and carefully closes the door. She smiles. For some reason, she couldn''t look at him in the eye. "I guess he already told you," she mutters.

    Gabriel gazes at her, and his heart sinks. Can he really give way? Can he really give HER away? Can he not step in? "Yes," he says. "He just told me."

    "So what do you think? Should I?"

    "Claire," he says, "this is not a decision I''m supposed to make. It''s your personal life." But please say no, say no, say no, Gabriel''s heart quietly says.

    She makes a small smile. "I don''t know what to do. He''s your brother. I didn''t want to disappoint him or anything. I think maybe he just wants someone to talk to. Maybe he feels alone."

    I can ?ssure you Miguel never feels alone; he can have a dozen women squirming at his feet at a flick of his finger, thinks Gabriel. But what he actually says is, "Yeah, maybe my brother feels a bit lonely. Did he tell you what he wanted?"

    "You mean, where we''re supposed to go?"

    "Yeah."

    "I don''t know. I haven''t said yes, you know. I don''t feel like going out with him."

    THEN PLEASE DON''T GO, FOR PETE''S SAKES, Gabriel screams in his mind, but his mouth says, "Well, maybe you should give him a chance. Maybe it''s just dinner. Just a little talk or something."

    "You think so?"

    "Yeah, whatever."

    "Okay. Are you sure it''s okay with you? Because he''s coming back later tonight, and he would need my answer."

    Oh, please say no, tell him to go back to our mother in Switzerland or wherever underground bunker she''s currently living in, Gabriel thinks, but as always, his mouth says, "Yeah, sure, whatever. Just¡­you know, try to stay safe. Just dinner or something safe."

    "Yeah, okay," she says. "I''ll give him a shot, then." She smiles. And for some reason, Gabriel thinks that''s the saddest smile he had ever seen in his life. Like Claire is about to cry. Like he just sent her to the gallows.

    After she leaves and closes the door, Gabriel feels like choking himself. You goddamn idiot, he mutters to his reflection on the dead computer screen. You''ve just let that woman out of your grasp, and perhaps, out of your life, forever.

    Now what?

 Chapter 76 - The Early Birdie

    The workday is yet to be over, but Miguel is already back, but this time, none of the fake beer belly or any of that clowning around. He''s the usual debonair, like the more relaxed casual version of Gabriel Tan. Everyone in the office stares at him when he appears by the door, winking at no one else but Bella Xavier. Many of the office girls, bitter over Miguel''s lack of attention to them, whisper among themselves not very flattering things about Bella, which she merely shrugs off: none of this matters to her, anyway. It''s all part of the game.

    "You''re too early," she says.

    Miguel only grins. "The early birdie catches the worm."

    "So you think I''m a worm?"

    Miguel laughs. "Oh, no, no, no! It''s just an expression, of course."

    Claire makes a face, as she pretends to type very important things on her computer. She can leave now, but she wants to observe the exact time an employee here is supposed to clock out, or else people will talk. On his part, Miguel seems to behave well. He''s browsing magazines in the reception lobby, sometimes chatting with Mrs. Gomez, presumably about nice things. Claire could hear Mrs. Gomez''s laughter from where she sits.

    She wonders about Gabriel. What does he think about all this? Why does she get the feeling that Gabriel''s not saying everything, like he''s hiding something, such as what he truly feels. But how does she even probe? She already said the right words. She was waiting for him to "command" her to say no to his own brother, to avoid him like the sickness. But all Gabriel kept saying is "Sure, go ahead," or "Yeah, that''s fine," or "Yeah, okay." So how does she respond to that? If he doesn''t care about her, then maybe she should really try and have a good time with Miguel.

    When the clock strikes the right hour, Claire dutifully shuts down her computer, quietly arranges and cleans up her desk, and knocks on Gabriel''s door. She doesn''t wait for him to respond. She slightly pushes it open, finding him deep into the documents he''s reading. Must be the legal documents concerning Michelle''s thing. She must be giving him some terrible, excruciating headache.

    "Hi," she says. "I''m running along. Miguel''s already here."

    Gabriel looks up from the paperwork. He gazes at her for a moment. Jesus, look at that. Wearing that thing. Why is everything that Claire wears looks so good on her? Claire, with that white pencil skirt and black sleeveless top, simply takes his breath away. He recalls that night at the pool party, when Claire wore a red two-piece bikini. Jesus, that was skimpy! What was Miss Cassandra thinking? Or better yet, kudos to Miss Cassandra for having the good sense to have her wear it. Claire''s curves¡ªthey''re all perfectly proportioned. Like some dude made a wish list long ago, and God listened, and unleashed someone like Claire upon the Earth. Now, as he gazes at her, he fights himself hard to not even go there and start imagining her underneath all this corporate attire. He tries so hard to convince himself that Claire''s looks don''t really matter as much as her personality; that he appreciates every little thing about her. That even if the looks should go, he''d still want to be with her.

    "I said I''m running along," she repeats.

    "Oh," he says, as if waking up from a dream. "Sure, go ahead. Run like the wind!"

    So typical Gabriel, Claire thinks. He''s always saying "Sure, go ahead." His middle name should be Gabriel "Sure, Go Ahead" Tan or something. Claire feels a pang of resentment because even at the very last moment, she''s hoping that Gabriel would stop her. And he doesn''t. It''s like ever since Michelle showed up yesterday at the office, the world has changed, and Gabriel Tan along with it.

    "I haven''t said yes to Miguel, though," she says. It''s true: Miguel''s only here on his easy ?ssumption that she''d say yes, no matter what. Who says no to Miguel Tan, anyway?

    Can''t you really read my mind, Gabriel thinks. SAY NO.

    "But what the heck," she says. "He''s already here, and I don''t want to send him home after all his trouble."

    Gabriel smiles. "Okay. Stay safe."

    "Alright," she says. She couldn''t even smile.

    By the door, Gabriel calls out, "Are you having dinner with him? Or somewhere else?"

    She stops and turns back. "Actually, I don''t know. Like I said, I haven''t even said yes. Should I ask him then report back to you?" Claire''s voice slightly quivers with emotion; did this stupid boy get her sarcasm? Probably not.

    "Oh, no need for that," Gabriel says, smiling. "Go and run along, will you. And please stay safe."

    Sure, go ahead, she thinks, as she slips out of Gabriel''s office. Miguel finds her immediately.

    "Are you free now?"

    "Free for what?" she says coyly.

    "Come on, Bella," he says, making a face. "I''m all set. Please say yes. And I promise, you''re going to have a lot of fun."

    "Alright," she mutters. "No monkey business."

    "Yes, absolutely."

    Gabriel could hear their voices inside his office. He strains to make out the words, until the voices grow fainter. He stands up, and paces the length of his office, deeply in conflict with himself. He told himself he won''t spy on her again. She deserves privacy, like any individual. But then again, he''d only use it to protect her. But this is his brother¡ªwhat protection are we talking about? Gabriel feels the onslaught of an oncoming headache.

    In the end, he could not resist¡ªhe takes out his phone and runs an app. Claire''s location blinks, in real time. They''re still in the building, probably in the elevator lobby. There''s usually a line of people at this time, as everyone clocks out and tries to go home. He stares intently on the screen. It''s a good thing he never took out the micro-transmitter. Jesus, Miguel, he mutters. Don''t ever do anything stupid, or I might forget you''re my brother.

 Chapter 77 - The Stalker

    In the old days, he would need to maintain visual of his subject. And there are tricks in order to avoid detection: hug the horizon. Hide in plain sight. Determine her blind spot, and hide there.

    But now, with the GPS tracker, Gabriel can maintain a safe distance. The little blue circle that blinks on his phone''s screen is Claire, and he doesn''t have to panic even when he doesn''t actually see her. And besides, the four bodyguards are spread out in all directions.

    But then again, this is Claire dating his brother¡ªwhy so heavy-handed? This isn''t another Jake Magno. You can actually relax, because although Miguel''s such a womanizer, he doesn''t try to drug and date-rape people.

    But still. Gabriel is overcome by a powerful sense of protectiveness. He couldn''t bear the thought of not seeing Claire, knowing she''s with another.

    Or maybe¡­he''s just jealous?

    Jesus. Jealous? Me? Gabriel laughs at his own thought. Why would I be jealous? I''m on top of the world, I can have anyone. But Gabriel almost trips on a brick fragment, and the train of thought is lost.

    The more Gabriel tracks Claire and Miguel, the more he is confounded: why are they merely walking? Where are they going? If they''re having dinner, surely, Miguel would choose something fancy to impress her, or at least somewhere private where he could turn the situation to his advantage, because that was what he could do. But the rate of travel that the app shows him makes it clear that the duo are not only walking, but they''re strolling leisurely¡ªas though they''re having a nice chat while drinking up the sights. What could they be talking about? Gabriel quickens his pace¡ªhe wants to see them, even at the risk of getting detected.

    Gabriel hides behind a tree. People are staring at him; he stares back and smiles and acts as if it''s the most ordinary thing in the world. Even from this distance, he could see Claire, with that pencil skirt, that blond hair. Miguel is walking with that confident swagger, the trademark Miguel Tan sweep, as though he knows everyone in this world is at his beck and call. Gabriel sees that the pair stops by a hotdog stand. They talk and laugh and even though this is his brother, Gabriel couldn''t help but feel a bit envious, now that Miguel has Claire''s full attention. It somehow pains him that right at this moment, Claire isn''t thinking about anything else but the handsome man speaking to her right now and charming her socks off. The two get a hotdog sandwich. Miguel acts as a gentleman, as he shows Claire how to properly hold the sandwich in order to protect the rest of her body from possible mustard stain. Gabriel''s brow furrows¡ªwhy is Claire acting as if she has never eaten a hotdog sandwich before in her life? Does she really need intimate instructions? Gabriel grits his teeth¡ªis this flirting?

    Miguel whispers something in her ear, and it must be so goddamn funny because Claire laughs. She tries to cover her mouth but she almost bends over due to uncontrollable laughter. Miguel laughs with her, and he even touches her arm lightly. Boom! Monkey business, Gabriel thinks. His brother has started doing his subtle moves, and for a swift moment, Gabriel''s irritation is such that he forgets this is his brother he''s looking at, and not some random idiot.

    They continue walking. A few paces behind them, there''s Gabriel, trying to act cool, trying to blend with the crowd, trying to hide behind every lamp post. Then he panics¡ªMiguel suddenly leads Claire by the hand, and Claire allows him. Miguel seems to be taking the girl to some place exciting, and he''s using it as an excuse to hold her hand. "Damn it, Miguel," Gabriel mutters, "you''re using all the old tricks in the book, you dog."

    "Oh, my God, Gabriel Tan? Is it you?" Says a much older man in a suit and cane. And before Gabriel knows it, the man is giving him a tight hug. "It has been a long time. How''s your mom?"

    It takes Gabriel a few moments to recognize who the man is. It''s one of his mother''s friends from way back. "Hi Uncle Leo," he mutters, his eyes elsewhere, trying to see through the thickening crowd. "She''s fine. She''s absolutely fine."

    "Well, what are you doing here? Where''s your ?ssistant? Are you walking on the sidewalk without a bodyguard like a normal person?" The man laughs. "Or are you up to something?"

    "Oh, no. I''m just¡­" Claire and Miguel have disappeared, and Gabriel sort of panics. He glances at his phone, but the blue dot that represents Claire has stopped moving. He looks up and realizes some of these buildings may be equipped with a signal jammer of some kind that interferes with his GPS. "I''m just strolling, enjoying the early evening air, you know."

    "Still a funny kid, huh," the man says, tapping him on the arm. "Trying to get some fresh air in the middle of this city is like shoving ash into your lungs. You should try the park, by the boardwalk. At least the sea breeze cleanses the air. You''d enjoy it there."

    Gabriel looks at Uncle Leo upon mention of the park. Yes, that''s right. That''s why Miguel and Claire are walking. They''re not going to some fancy place. Miguel''s trying to level with Claire. He''s bringing her to the park. Hence the stroll along the sidewalk, the hotdog stand. And if he knows his brother well, then the next destination would be¡­

    "Cat got your tongue, kid?" Uncle Leo says, his eyes nestled in deep wrinkled furrows.

    "Sorry, Uncle Leo, I need to run along. There''s something I must¡­" He never finishes his words as he starts walking and half-running toward the general direction of the park.

    "Hey, Gabriel, please say hi to your mom," Uncle Leo yells from behind, but his voice is immediately drowned out by the growing evening noise of a city that is starting to wake up in the deepening darkness.

    Gabriel looks at his phone¡ªthe blue dot stays unmoving. That''s when he realizes there''s actually no data signal in this area. He''s not worried; Gabriel knows the area pretty well. This is near the place where he and Miguel grew up. He knows that beyond this tree-lined avenue is a place that''s dear to their heart; a place that holds a lot of his cherished memories with his brother and mother. He tries to catch his breath as he half-sprints, making a mental note of how he must resume his cardio work-outs soon. But perhaps because of the uneven lighting in the place, and the rush of the early evening crowd, Gabriel''s foot trips again over something on the ground. He stumbles, and in trying to regain his balance, he unintentionally hurls his body forward¡ªand directly upon the back of a man walking ahead of him. The force of the impact makes them both fall on the ground. The man curses, and in a mad moment, the man grabs Gabriel on the collar¡ªbut he stops.

    "Gabriel? What are you doing here?"

    It''s Miguel, holding back his fist.

    Gabriel is so stunned. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He looks up, and sees Claire standing there, her mouth slightly open in surprise. And in Gabriel''s mind, he thinks: Was that delight, was that happiness on Claire''s face upon seeing him?

 Chapter 78 - The Cityéˆ¥æªš Unstoppable Jogger Person

    "What are you doing running around in the dark?" Miguel says, helping his brother up.

    In the dim light, Gabriel''s face is all red from embarrassment. He dusts off his shoulder, and looks around¡ªhe presumes Claire''s bodyguards are around them, and maybe they''re shocked, too, upon seeing him here.

    "Can''t a free man jog whenever and wherever he wants to?" Gabriel says.

    Miguel laughs. "When have you started jogging while wearing your suit? Is this a new fashion?"

    "Well," Gabriel mutters, unsure of what to say. "I was really going home to change clothes, when I felt like running. So¡­"

    Miguel gives him a strange look. "Gabriel, this is quite the opposite direction to where your home is. And besides, you seem to be wearing your Prada loafers. Those are hardly any good for jogging."

    Jesus, Miguel, quit the questions, Gabriel screams in his mind. The more he talks, the deeper the hole he seems to be digging. He tries to smile. "I don''t know what came to me. I just¡ª"

    "Are you alright?" Claire says. She approaches and fixes his collar. Claire looks truly concerned. Gabriel catches a whiff of her scent, and he fights the urge to throw his arms around her, right here, right now. "Your shirt is soiled. I don''t think Mr. Wong at Leed''s would be very happy about this," she says.

    Gabriel says nothing; he just allows her to take her time in fixing his collar. He feels weird. As though this little act of caring feels so intimate. His mind is instantly transported to some future he longs for: he imagines Claire as his wife, caring for him, doing these wifely things for him. It gives him a warm wonderful feeling in his stomach.

    On the other hand, Claire feels strangely weird, too, as she looks up (Gabriel is much taller than her) in fixing his collar. She takes her time. She doesn''t care if people passing by are beginning to stare or wonder what these people are doing. Even after she has already removed the dirt, she still pretends to obsessively remove that stubborn stain, even letting her hand touch Gabriel''s neck and ?h?st.

    Miguel approaches and looks closely at whatever Claire''s trying to clean. "I don''t see anything wrong with that collar? It''s fine, Claire."

    Reluctantly, Claire stops. She stands back as though trying to get a big picture of what she has completed. "There, it''s gone."

    Gabriel touches his collar as though something magical has happened to it. "Thank you." He sighs. "I guess I better be going then."

    "Wait, you''re leaving?" Miguel says. "You can''t possibly be continuing to jog in that situation?"

    "Yeah," Claire says. And then after a pause: "Why don''t you join us?"

    "What?" Miguel says in surprise, obviously not liking this sudden turn of events.

    "Yeah," she says, trying to disarm him with her smile. "Why not? He''s your brother. And it''s not like this is an exclusive date, right? We can have a good time, the three of us."

    Miguel couldn''t speak; he has that pained expression on his face. He looks at Gabriel, then to Claire, trying to make sense of what''s happening.

    Gabriel senses it and decides to avoid the awkwardness. "That''s alright, Claire, this is your thing. I don''t want to stand in your way or cramp my brother''s style in any possible way." He tries to smile, but it more looks like he''s squirming.

    "No, I''m sure it would be fun if there''s three of us," Claire insists, and she touches Gabriel on the arm.

    Miguel doesn''t miss it. He glances at Claire''s hand on Gabriel''s arm, and it baffles him, this gesture. As though Claire actually wants Gabriel to accompany them, that she''s not doing this out of politeness.

    "But three''s a crowd," Miguel says.

    "A crowd''s more fun," she says.

    Miguel gazes at Gabriel''s eyes, trying to implicitly send the message of "Give way, bro. Remember the Bro Code?"

    But Gabriel is undecided; Miguel sees that his brother obviously wants to stay and be with them. How else can you explain his sudden presence here, in this place, an area Gabriel had never visited in ten years? Surely, this was a sly move. And right now Miguel is confused: why would his brother go to great lengths just to keep an eye on Claire, if that''s what this really is? Why be so obsessive about your "employee"? Is it possible that¡­Gabriel actually likes her, in the same way Miguel likes her?

    Claire also playfully grabs Miguel by the arm, and with her in the middle, she says, "Come on, let''s go. Let''s stop overthinking, shall we? Miguel, where did you say you''re taking me?"

    "Well, uhh," he stammers, glancing at his brother. ""We''re going to a magical place."

    "Really?" Claire''s reaction is pure child-like wonder, and she seems a hundred times more beautiful in that moment.

    "Yes," Miguel mutters. "We''re going to¡ª"

    "¡ªThe City Amusement Park," Gabriel suddenly finishes. A pause. Suddenly, Gabriel realizes: he shouldn''t have known that! Now it becomes plain and obvious of what he''s been doing all along¡ªspying on them, or at least, second-guessing Miguel''s intentions.

    Miguel only laughs, though. "You know me too well, my brother. I missed that place. Remember when we were kids?"

    "Of course," Gabriel says too eagerly, perhaps to deflect attention and stop Claire from wondering why Gabriel knows where Miguel is taking her. "Remember the half-burnt corndogs that Mother buys because it''s cheaper."

    Miguel laughs. "Yeah, and how we really tried to hit all the balloons in the shooting gallery, because you wanted to much to win that huge teddy bear?"

    "Oh, my God, so embarrassing," Gabriel laughs, glancing at Claire, who''s grinning, too, and secretly amused at the brothers'' exchange of funny childhood anecdotes.

    "Why did we even stop going here," Miguel says. "We should have had a yearly pilgrimage to the amusement park. You know, to remind us of how we used to be. To not lose the child in us."

    "Wow," Claire exclaims, "that was beautiful, Miguel. I love that."

    Miguel almost turns his head so quickly because he thought he heard Claire say, "that was beautiful, Miguel, I love YOU." But upon realizing his mistake, he grins. "You know, you just don''t know I''m a poet."

    Secretly, Gabriel cringes at what Miguel said. "He''s going to recite one of his poems, Jesus," he screams in his mind. Please, Miguel, have some sense. Don''t spoil this moment, Gabriel begs mentally.

    But thankfully, Miguel has fallen silent. He seems to have realized or recalled something. They''re just awkwardly walking to wherever they''re going, with Claire in the middle and chain-linking them in her arms, like some clever child who''s trying to reconcile her feuding parents.

    On the other hand, Gabriel is thinking, too, about how fast things have gone down this way. Just a couple of days ago, it would never have entered even his wildest dreams to find himself in this unspoken "competition" with his brother. He seems to be saying all the wrong things ever since Miguel had arrived. Maybe he should just try not to talk too much. Yes, Gabriel thinks. That''s a good plan. Zip it.

    By the time they''re at the grand entrance to the amusement park, Gabriel has vowed to himself to never open his mouth again¡ªnot as long as he''s here with them. Because the more he opens his mouth, the more he only demonstrates that he''s the world''s biggest idiot.

 Chapter 79 - The Third Wheel

    "Oh, wow," Claire exclaims, gazing at the fantastic world of lights and sound before them. "I''ve never been to an amusement park. I''ve only seen them in pictures."

    "Are you serious?" Miguel says? "You''ve never tried riding on a rollercoaster, or the horror booth, or one of those great slides that make you feel like you''re about to die?"

    Claire laughs. "Oh, no. Never. Never had time for it. Never had someone to bring me to one."

    "Well, now you have me," Miguel says, laughing. "Right, Gabriel?"

    Gabriel smiles and nods. No talking, right?

    Claire looks at Gabriel, who seems to have become weirder and weirder, but decides she should let it go. If she calls him out, Gabriel might only become more embarrassed.

    "So where shall we go first, my Princess?" Miguel says playfully as he curtsies.

    "Stop that," she says. Then she turns to Gabriel. "What do you think I should try out, first? I''m an Amusement Park Virgin, mind you." She giggles; it''s the kind of childlike playfulness that almost melts Gabriel''s heart.

    Yet, Gabriel shrugs, and points forward with his mouth. As if saying, let''s walk along and see what stands out.

    Miguel throws him a meaningful glance. "Maybe," he begins, thinking about what Gabriel would want to revisit most. "Maybe we should try the shooting gallery, right, brother?"

    Gabriel smiles and nods.

    "So who''s the night''s sharpshooter, eh?" the gallery''s host says, handing Miguel a loaded air rifle.

    Miguel accepts the rifle and examines it. He tests its heft and feel, like some shooting gallery connoisseur. "Showing off," Gabriel thinks. Miguel aims the rifle at a random target, but eventually decides to hand the rifle to Claire. "Do the honor," he says.

    "I don''t know how to use this," she says, but even so she takes the rifle.

    "You just aim it at those balloons, then pull the trigger. That simple. Don''t worry, it''s not a real gun. It only shoots pellets."

    "I''m not sure if I can hit that," she says.

    "It doesn''t matter. Just start shooting," Miguel reassures.

    "Yeah, just aim at ''em balloons and let ''em pop, then you get one of these nice fluffy things," the gallery host says.

    "Well, I¡­" Reluctantly, she lifts the rifle, but she does so awkwardly.

    "Wait," Miguel says, then he brings her arms around Claire in order to ?ssist her aiming. There''s an awkward expression on Claire''s face for a moment, surprised at Miguel''s body''s closeness to hers, like he''s actually hugging her tightly. "You hold the handle here," Miguel says, closing his hand around her hand. "Then you use this to guide the sight. There, aim. Wait, hold your breath."

    Gabriel watches it all in silence, but in his mind, he almost protests. Miguel''s doing all the sneaky moves in the book, and Gabriel could almost read Miguel''s next plan. There''s nothing Miguel can hide from him. It''s so goddamn obvious. If this were not his brother, he would have strangled him.

    Claire holds her breath, but as she does so, Miguel also holds his breath, his face almost right next to hers. She could smell his cologne, some expensive-smelling perfume not unlike what Gabriel uses. She feels awkward, and her aim worsens because of it.

    "Now, pull the trigger," Miguel says.

    Claire closes her eyes as she pulls the trigger, which is, of course, a mistake. She hits nothing but wall.

    "Alright, let''s try again," Miguel says. "Point it at that big red balloon. Then don''t even think. Just pull the trigger."

    Claire takes a deep breath. She aims down the barrel, then pulls the trigger. But like the previous one, she hits nothing but wall. Then before Miguel could speak, Claire unloads her bullets in quick succession, trying to hit at least one of these balloons.

    Unfortunately, she runs out of bullets without hitting anything. She turns to Miguel, red in the face. "I told you, it''s my first time."

    "That''s okay," Miguel says, smiling. "Here, let me show you."

    Miguel holds the rifle like an expert, like he has done this every single day all his life. He flicks his head and runs his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, like a rock star with a weapon. Then he holds the rifle aloft, aims at the balloons, then pulls the trigger.

    Nothing happens. No balloon pops. Confused, Miguel looks at the rifle. "This rifle is faulty," he says to the gallery host.

    "Oh, no, rifle''s super-fine," host says, then he takes the rifle from Miguel. He points the rifle at one of the balloons and shoots it. He balloon explodes. "See?" Then he hands back the rifle to Miguel.

    Miguel sighs. This doesn''t seem to be going well in his favor. He makes sure the rifle has pellets, then he goes through the same motions: he aims, pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. The balloons sway to the wind, as if mocking him. A little pissed at this point, Miguel starts shooting; he empties the load upon all the balloons, yet none of them pops. In the end, he hands the rifle back to the host without a word.

    The gallery host snickers. "Bad day of shooting, eh?" He refills it with pellets. Then he notices Gabriel standing by the side. "What about you? Won''t you try it?"

    Gabriel shrugs and still doesn''t speak.

    "Just for shits," the gallery hosts insists, handing Gabriel the rifle.

    Without another word, Gabriel takes it.

    "Be careful," Miguel says, and even tries to give him some tips. "Just try to aim a little higher than the target."

    If that''s effective, why didn''t you do it, Gabriel thinks. But he nonchalantly aims the rifle at one of the balloons, he pulls the trigger, and it pops!

    "You''ve hit it!" Claire exclaims in amazement!

    "Maybe you''re lucky," Miguel says.

    "Oh, my God!" Claire exclaims. "That''s amazing!"

    Gabriel tries to downplay it. He simply shrugs.

    "Maybe you''re really lucky," Miguel says.

    "At your rate, you might clean me out," gallery host says.

    "What do I have to hit to win that big teddy?" Gabriel says, finally breaking his short-lived vow of silence.

    "Well, that pink balloon in the far left, the one in the corner. That''s the target. If you hit it."

    "That should be easy," Gabriel says.

    "Oh, no," gallery host says. "There''s a reason why that balloon pays the top prize. There are factors, you see. The wind comes from that corner, and it tends to influence the bullet. And there''s the angle of the wall, et cetera. So¡­"

    Gabriel simply shrugs, ???ks the rifle, holds it up, aims it, then pulls the trigger.

    "Maybe you''re really, really lucky," Miguel says.

    "Yeah," gallery host says as he accepts the rifle from Gabriel. "Some guys have all the luck."

    "Where are the prizes?"

    "Oh, so eager to pillage a poor shooting gallery, eh?" gallery hosts says, as he starts piling on the counter all the toys Gabriel has won: one Peppa Pig stuffed toy, a couple of dinosaurs, and the grand prize: a teddy bear half the height of Claire.

    Claire''s face lights up as Gabriel gives her everything. "I can''t hold them all!" she shrieks in delight. Truly, there''s something about this amusement park that seems to have made Claire so happy, like a child unleashed. And the happier she is, the more she glows beautifully, to the point that even the gallery host stares at her.

    "She''s really something," the gallery host says, smiling despite his loss.

    "Yeah," Miguel mutters, gazing at Claire happily accepting Gabriel''s prizes. "She''s truly special."

 Chapter 80 - The Emotional Rollercoaster

    Miguel couldn''t see where they''re going¡ªhe''s the one who was ?ssigned to carry the Peppa Pig stuffed toy and the two dinosaurs, while Claire has the big teddy bear in her arms, walking with that spring in her gait like a child on the first day of summer. Only Gabriel is carrying nothing¡ªhe''s not officially part of this date. He''s just the third wheel. So the unspoken disposition is that why make Gabriel carry anything when he''s not supposed to officially participate?

    Gabriel doesn''t mind. As long as he''s here, he would behave. He''d try not to steal Miguel''s thunder, although he seems to have done that already at the shooting gallery. He couldn''t tell Miguel, at the risk of calling him sentimental, that he had been faithfully going to this amusement park almost every month. This is his good place, the sanctuary of his innocent childhood memories, long before the wealth and the personality changes and rift that has since grown between him and his mother. Whenever he''d feel sad or down in the dumps, he''d walk the half-mile of tree-lined sidewalk right to the wrought-iron entrance to the amusement park, away from the eyes of his underlings or anyone who only knows him as The CEO Gabriel Tan, and spend hours wandering its countless booths and amusements or just watch kids with their parents, or teenaged couples trying their hand with some of the games.

    "That was awesome, Gabriel," Claire says. "Thank you. I''ve never had a teddy bear as big as this." She giggles.

    Gabriel only smiles. Of course, nobody knew that because he''d been frequenting the amusement park, he had become an expert at, among other things, shooting the balloons in the shooting gallery. The gallery host, the white-haired cigar-chomping old guy''s name is Albert, and he knows Gabriel all too well¡ªthat''s why he''d been winking, secretly grinning each time Gabriel hit the target. Albert almost hated him¡ªhe''d usually clean out the gallery''s prizes, as Gabriel would hit almost all the balloons¡ªbut Albert also knows who Gabriel really is, and has always treated him with some sort of deference. What''s more, Albert purposefully let them use the very rifle Gabriel loves using¡ªhe knows it like the palm of his hand, even the rifle''s smallest oddities.

    Meanwhile, Miguel is throwing Gabriel meaningful glances. There''s something about Gabriel that he finds strange, he just can''t quite put a finger on it. It''s the way Gabriel moves in this situation, like he''s a fish back in the water or something. While he, Miguel, is fascinated to be back in the amusement park for more than a decade of not having seen it, Gabriel''s all blas¨¦ about it.

    And Claire¡ªwhat''s up with her? Is this normal behavior for these two, Miguel wonders? Is Claire''s behavior, which borders on affectionate, normal for a mere "employee"? Sure, the job is odd¡ªposing as your boss''s fianc¨¦e¡ªbut does it mean you should act a bit "intimately" with your boss.

    These nagging questions, Miguel keeps them to himself as he carries the stuffed toys. He doesn''t want to spoil the night. As long as Claire seems enjoying every moment of it, then he''ll play along. He also doesn''t want to feel any kind of resentment toward his brother¡ªmaybe there are things here that he doesn''t fully understand. Maybe given time, he''d finally get what "this" is. But for the meantime, the night is young, and there are so many things they can still do to have fun.

    On the other hand, Gabriel surveys the crowd¡ªhe thinks he has caught a glimpse of one of the bodyguards he has ?ssigned to tail Claire. They''ve seen him. He ?ssumes his presence would up the security level. That''s fine, as long as they remain largely unseen. Especially that Miguel is here with them¡ªhis brother won''t stop talking about it if he discovers the bodyguards, and then he''d have a lot of explaining to do. He doesn''t want to talk to Miguel about Jake Magno; he wants to keep that information private, for Claire''s sake.

    If there''s one thing Gabriel doesn''t like about the amusement park, it''s the gigantic rollercoaster, whose vertigo-inducing railroad track snakes all above them. He hates it, fears it; it gives him a funny feeling in his balls, just imagining him on that open cart, precariously zooming through the night air, feeling like he''d vomit his dinner. He''s afraid of heights; it''s a phobia he should have had treated, but haven''t. And even now, at his age he won''t dare even try it. And if there''s one thing he fears, it''s Miguel choosing to¡ª

    "Hey, guys," Miguel says. "Let''s try the rollercoaster!"

    Oh, shit, Gabriel thinks. Why, Miguel, why?

    "You haven''t tried that, right, Claire?" Miguel says.

    Claire''s face lights up. "No, but I''ve always been curious about it."

    "Then say no more! Let''s go!"

    Gabriel stays rooted in his spot.

    Claire looks behind her and sees him. "What''s the matter?"

    "Go ahead," he says, smiling. "

    "Don''t be a party pooper, Gabriel," Miguel says, with that mischievous grin on his face; of course, Miguel knows he never rides the rollercoaster. "This is a group date, right? We don''t want anyone to be left behind, do we?"

    "But I¡­" Gabriel begins, but his brain is not fast enough to make up a good excuse.

    "Come on," Claire says, taking his arm. "Let''s at least try everything once."

    Gabriel looks at her for a moment. Hey, that sounds meaningful. Let''s try everything once. But even as he mulls it over, they''re already trooping down to the rollercoaster booth.

    Miguel takes all the stuffed toys and deposits it with the booth attendant. This is so rich, he thinks. This would be the perfect excuse to get physically close to Claire. He can just imagine what''s going to happen up there, as the rollercoaster zips on the convoluted track. Claire would hold onto him for dear life. Claire would¡­be vulnerable.

    "Guys, I''m not really sure about this," Gabriel protests. He''s standing like he''s afraid to even go near the platform.

    "Aw come on," Miguel says, already holding the tickets. "Keep an open mind. Nobody has died riding a rollercoaster, so we should be perfectly safe. It''s all just fun!"

    Hell no, a LOT of people died riding rollercoasters, Gabriel wanted to say. But he doesn''t want to be the person who mentions the word "death" in a situation like, in a "date" like this. He does that, Miguel would resent him.

    Miguel takes the first cart, and waits for Claire to settle beside her. But as soon as he sits, he realizes his mistake: he should have acted the gentleman and let Claire to board the cart first. In that way, Claire wouldn''t be able to say no. Because now, it''s too late to change that, as the attendant approaches them with another girl. "Sir, can she sit here beside you?" The attendant says. "So she doesn''t have to wait for the next ride."

    Miguel looks at the girl, then looks at Claire standing on the platform. "That''s okay," Claire says. "I''ll just sit with Gabriel."

    Gabriel says nothing; yet inside, he''s torn: he''s rejoicing the fact that Claire ends up with him; but he''s deathly terrified of riding the rollercoaster. He''s starting to get tunnel-vision, as though he''s seeing everything through a long and dark tunnel.

    Miguel sighs. He says nothing as the girl meekly takes the seat beside him. He looks on helplessly as Gabriel and Claire take the cart right behind him.

    "Please make sure you''ve properly fastened all the straps, will you," Gabriel snaps at the attendant.

    "Yes, sir," the attendant says. He also checks Claire''s straps, spending a few minutes checking it closely.

    Gabriel says nothing. Ahead of him, Miguel''s sitting there, taking it coolly. Only now he realizes how much he wants to put his hands around Miguel''s neck, and strangle the shit out of him.

 Chapter 81 - The Emotional Rollercoaster Part 2

    The thing with this rollercoaster is that it had been Ground Zero to Gabriel Tan''s most embarrassing childhood memory.

    Years ago, when they first visited this amusement park, there were three of them: Miguel, Gabriel, and their mother, Matilde. They came to celebrate¡ªtheir mother had built their first small business, and that afternoon she signed a partnership agreement with a major shopping mall. They had quite a big lunch¡ªpizzas and milk shakes and gigantic burgers. For some reason, as soon as Miguel had set foot on the amusement park''s grounds, he looked at the elevated tracks of the rollercoaster, and suddenly threw a tantrum: he wanted to ride that thing, that "train in the sky," and he''s kicking and screaming on the ground to compel their mother so go directly to the rollercoaster booth.

    And so there they were. Gabriel didn''t know what to expect, but he played along. It started fine¡ªthe coaster rolling out of the platform tunnel and into the sunlight, people good-naturedly screaming, expecting the excitement to go up. But then the coaster climbs up what is called The Olympus, the highest point, and when the coaster descends from the crest, that''s when all hell broke loose. Gabriel''s vision turned upside-down, while his lunch went up his gullet and out of his mouth, spraying bits and pieces of the pizza and spaghetti and the burger he had for lunch.

    The rest was muddled in his memory, and what that episode left in his heart was a general sense of nastiness.

    And now he''s back in this place, sitting on what''s probably the same coaster (although that''s highly unlikely). He sits there so stiffly, like he''s made of wood, that Claire finally couldn''t resist saying, "Are you alright?"

    Gabriel tries to smile, but it comes out as a lop-sided grin. "I, uhh, I¡­Y-yeah, I''m fine."

    "You look pale, Gabriel," she says. "If you don''t want to continue this, we can abort from this."

    "No," he mutters. Then he turns to her. Claire looks frightened, too, but she isn''t saying anything about it. It''s as if she''s trying her hardest to make the best out of this. So if this girl who''s taking a rollercoaster ride for the first time in her life could throw all caution to the wind and still want to proceed with the ride, then how could he¡ªthe great Gabriel Tan¡ªnot go on with it? What is he, a chicken? He had done greater things than riding on some stupid rollercoaster that''s probably a gazillion years old and¡­and could fatally fail. "No, I''m fine," he says, his voice hoarse.

    Claire smiles. "Don''t worry. Just look at the bright side. I know you''re afraid. Maybe you think this rollercoaster might kill us. But to tell you the truth, if we die on this ride tonight, I''m glad I''m with you."

    Gabriel gazes at her. Did he hear that correctly? Did she really say that? But even before he could speak, the rollercoaster starts moving forward¡ªslowly at first, but Gabriel knows it''s deceptive. He knows it''s going to get faster and faster and faster and faster. He closes his eyes. Already the others are starting to scream, but they''re screaming in glee. Oh shit, he thinks. His body is going to hurl into space. He''s going to¡­

    Claire is screaming, but her screams are screams of delight. In the blur of Gabriel''s vision, Claire seems so far away; like he''s watching this from somewhere else, that this body is not his body. He tries to scream, too, but the coaster makes a sharp turn, and instantly he feels like his insides are going to burst out of his ?h?st. Oh, this would be embarrassing, if he retches here, what would Claire feel and think?

    All these things zig-zag across Gabriel''s brain, and with his eyes closed, he just wants the whole thing to end. His arms flail about, he''s also screaming, but these are screams of terror. But then suddenly, he feels a hand grabbing him. When he opens his eyes, he sees that Claire has partly freed herself from the straps and is throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. Around them is the white noise of the whole world.

    "It''s okay," she screams through the din.

    He says nothing. He shakes his head, as if telling her that he might not¡ª

    But then she hugs him. And as she does, she''s not sure, but she''s very closely whispering to him to take it easy, it''s just a ride. As she speaks, maybe it''s the madness of the moment, but Gabriel stares at her lips, as it mouths out words and syllables, then he suddenly kisses her¡ªa kiss that''s so deep and desperate that everything else disappears¡ªthe rollercoaster reaches the crest, The Olympus, and makes a steep descent, yet Gabriel doesn''t notice that. All he has on his mind is Claire''s lips, and he seeks it, tastes it, playfully nibbles it, his mouth tasting Claire''s entirety. And just as he thinks it could not get better, a miracle: Claire responds. She also nibbles his lips, she uses her tongue, she m??ns. He drinks her up, all her scent, her taste, the sensational feeling of her lips locked with his. And all this happening while they hurl through space at a maddening speed.

    He''s not sure how it lasts. It feels like forever. When finally the rollercoaster hisses to a stop, Claire suddenly detaches herself from him, as though waking up from a dream.

    "Are you alright?" Gabriel says.

    Claire says nothing. She simply looks down. At one point she touches her lips absent-mindedly, then as if realizing Gabriel is gazing at her, she looks away. The attendant arrives and starts unstrapping them. Gabriel stands up first, then Claire. And as they both stand on the platform waiting for Miguel, Gabriel reaches for Claire''s hand. He squeezes it. Claire says nothing, then very slightly, like a bu??erfly flapping its wings, Claire squeezes back without looking at him. She only lets go as they see Miguel arrive.

    "Hey, guys," Miguel cheerfully says. "Tell me that ride didn''t blow your minds away? It was awesome!"

    "Yeah," Gabriel mutters, smiling, his face still blushing red. "The most mind-blowing ride of my life."

 Chapter 82 - The Booth of Bottomless Terror

    "What''s eating you both?" Miguel says. Because since they left the rollercoaster platform, Gabriel and Claire have fallen silent.

    Claire smiles. "What do you mean?"

    "Did that rollercoaster ride traumatized you?"

    Gabriel laughs. "No, it was fine. I just thought¡­well, it made me feel certain feelings." He glances at Claire, who looks away.

    "Fine," Miguel says. He turns to Claire. "Are you hungry? Would you like to take a bite?"

    Claire shrugs. "Sure."

    They blend with the amusement park crowd, but Gabriel stands out. He''s still wearing his Armani suit, and people are staring at him, like they''ve seen a celebrity. After a while, he borrows the giant teddy bear from Claire. "What for?" she asks. "I''m using this as cover," Gabriel says, holding the stuffed toy in front of him in such a way that it hides his face.

    "Don''t worry," Miguel says, "nobody''s going to ask for your autograph, man." He grins.

    Gabriel "gets" the sarcasm. So he returns the toy to Claire, who accepts it, confused at what''s going on.

    They pass by a crowd milling about some attraction''s entrance. Miguel looks up and realizes they''re standing before the fa?ade of the classic horror booth. His face lights up. "Hey," he turns to Gabriel, "remember this place?"

    Even Gabriel has to laugh. "Yeah, this was a riot. Remember how Mom screamed her lungs out?"

    "I wonder if this could still scare the shit out of me," Miguel says.

    Gabriel says nothing. Of course he knows the answer to that question, because just a few months ago, he tried getting into this booth, and everything he had remembered from childhood¡ªthe scary white witch, the mummy, the demons, even the zombie babies¡ªhad gotten stale and boring when seen through the lens of ?du?thood. He just went there for nostalgia''s sake, and for that he wasn''t disappointed¡ªeverything was still in place, including all the smallest jump scares. But he doesn''t say anything about this to keep up with the pretense. Instead, he says, "Yeah, I wonder if that white witch would still be as scary, now that we''re all grown-ups."

    Claire is looking at Gabriel, then at Miguel, with that bemused expression. "This should have been a ''date'' between you brothers."

    "What do you say to a quick revisit to the booth of bottomless terror?" Miguel says.

    "I''d love to try that out," Claire says. "Gabriel?"

    "Maybe I can just wait for you here outside," Gabriel almost says. Almost, because in the split-second his mind had thought about saying that, the other half of his brain quickly reckons, "That would be like giving her away to your brother, who would have free rein in that dimly lit place."

    So what Gabriel actually says is, "I''m down for some jump scares, you guys!" He''s actually grinning, trying to hide what''s really on his mind.

    "Awesome!" Miguel says.

    They make a beeline for the horror booth, but apparently, there''s a new rule about going in batches of seven. But since they''re the last to arrive, they have to wait for their turn. Gabriel looks around¡ªhe quickly calculates that, if no other visitors arrive, then their batch would only include the three of them. Hmmm. It seems things are being too contrived for their situation tonight. But at least, he can quietly watch over her and make sure where Miguel keeps his hands.

    After Miguel pays at the booth, the attendant issues three red-colored tickets, which he solemnly hands over to Claire. "Here''s your passage to the seven circles of Hell," he says in mock-monster voice.

    The entrance to the horror booth begins deceptively quiet. They enter through huge double doors, which theatrically creak as they open. The icy blast of air from some hidden airconditioner greets them, setting the mood for what''s advertised as a "bone-chilling experience."

    "This seems different from what I remember," Miguel comments. "There was a man wearing a skeleton suit that immediately tries to grab you by this door, if I remember it right."

    "Yeah," Gabriel says, keeping up with the pretense.

    Claire seems quiet, but Gabriel could see she''s alert, her eyes gazing at everything. If she was brave enough to withstand that horrendous rollercoaster, then this silly childish horror booth should be a walk in the park. The amusement park, that is. But then again, maybe her courage on the rollercoaster track was due largely to the delicious distraction of that kiss. The truth is, Gabriel is baffled by Claire''s behavior. One moment, she seems open to anything; the next moment, she acts as though she''s ashamed of what she''d done. What is it about women? Is this how all "virgins" behave? Gabriel has no idea. But as she gazes at her from behind, he tells herself he''d do his best to be patient.

    Suddenly, Claire screams¡ªthe "rock" she apparently stepped on is a severed head of some man. In the darkness, the "head" looks realistic enough, except when Gabriel reaches down to touch it, it''s obviously made of foam and dried paint.

    "That''s the severed head of the former janitor here," Miguel mutters, "killed by some serial killer on the loose."

    Gabriel snickers at that. "Is that written on the brochure?"

    Claire doesn''t speak, but she stops and waits for Gabriel, who has been trailing behind. But Miguel notices her, and so he grabs her by the hand.

    "Let''s go, Claire, I''ll show you all the sights of the most hellish parts of this place," he says in sing-song.

    With Miguel holding her hand firmly, Claire has no choice but to let herself be led down the path.

    Meanwhile, Gabriel is taken aback when he sees Claire and Miguel holding hands. What in hell is this? As he walks a few paces behind them, Gabriel sees the "couple" seemingly enjoying each other''s company. Miguel would even sometimes whisper something in Claire''s ear. Are those whispers of sweet nothings? Is Miguel doing his legendary moves now? Are they setting up what they''re going to do later, where they''re gonna go? Damn it. Gabriel quickens his pace to catch up until he''s abreast with them.

    Miguel is whispering to Claire''s ear when they notice Gabriel. "Oh, hey, there you are," Miguel says. "Don''t walk too slow, man. Or else the bogeyman might get you." He laughs.

    "I''m just enjoying the sights," Gabriel says, glancing at how Claire and Miguel are holding each other''s hands.

    Claire is aware of it. She has been trying to pry her hand off Miguel''s grasp, but the man insists on holding her, "just for safety and fun." And being a "nice" girl afraid of giving offense, she allows him, although deep inside she senses she''s being taken advantage of.

    Then round a bend on the path, all the three of them stop: before them, a few meters away, is a huge man, or the shadow of a man, and he''s holding something like a huge knife. He''s very calmly walking towards them. While others in demon masks tried so hard to scare them in silly ways, this one seems different. He''s calm. Yet he has that sinister air about him. And the fact that they couldn''t clearly see him made Gabriel stop.

    "Is he still part of the horror booth?" Claire mutters.

    "I don''t know," Gabriel says. He''s not sure if this man was part of the attractions when he last visited the horror booth. "But I guess we''re about to find out."

 Chapter 83 - The Booth of Bottomless Terror Part 2

    As the man or shadow continues his inexorable approach towards them, Claire whispers, "Is this real?"

    "Don''t worry," Miguel says, and grabs Claire''s hand and steps in front of her. "I won''t let anything to happen to you."

    Gabriel takes note of that. Claire glances at him as she has no choice but to cower behind Miguel.

    "That''s a long knife, right?" Gabriel calmly notes. "Can you defend against that, Migs?"

    "I''ve defended against knives longer than that," Miguel mutters. "I think we can disarm him easily. I''ll snap his head off."

    Gabriel says nothing. His gaze is straight at the approaching shadow¡ªand at Miguel''s hand holding Claire so tightly. He knows this isn''t the right time to think of such things, but he couldn''t stop himself. So what he does is he actually grabs Claire''s other hand, and places himself in front of her and right behind Miguel. Miguel turns to look at him and has no choice but to let go.

    "She should be in the safest place," Gabriel says, secretly squeezing Claire''s hand as if to tell her it''s alright, "Which is right behind both of us."

    Miguel makes a face. "But what if someone appears right behind her while we''re busy defending the front, huh? Wasn''t that more strategic that Claire''s sandwiched between us?"

    "Well, uhh," Gabriel stammers. But he''s not returning her to Miguel. "No, get ready. He''s about to reach us."

    Miguel hisses in disappointment, yet he looks ahead and braces himself against what he perceives is an oncoming onslaught. The shadow is weird, at the very least. He seems to be walking through water, in that slow-motion kind of way. And they couldn''t glean details of him, no matter how much they squint their eyes. The shadow seems to be shifting in the dim light, like he''s being projected on the wall or something.

    "Here he comes," Gabriel mutters. In those few moments as they stand there, Gabriel wonders why they have come to this point. They were supposed to just enjoy the night, in an amusement park they have known for decades. Why, of all nights, must they encounter such a thing? What happened to the first batch that came through this horror booth, then? What are the chances that just as when they''re the ones in it, this person, this apparent "killer," must show up? Gabriel smells something fishy, so to speak. So he, too, braces himself up, as the shadow continues walking, ever so calmly, towards them.

    "Oh, my God," Claire whimpers from behind them.

    Miguel shushes him.

    Then when the shadow is just but a few paces from them, just as when Miguel is about to make his all-out karate yell, the shadow, or whatever it is, continues walking¡ªTHROUGH them.

    This drops their jaws. Gabriel looks around at the ceiling, on the wall, as the "shadow," which now turns out to be a projection of some kind, continues walking beyond them, then disappears into a wall. When they look ahead, there it is again, standing before them, seemingly holding a huge knife¡ªthe projection repeats in an endless loop.

    "Jesus," Miguel mutters." That was crazy. I didn''t know they have that now."

    "Yeah," Gabriel agrees.

    "What was that?" Claire says, still not getting it.

    "It''s a 3D projection, Claire," Gabriel says. "It''s a mirage, something like a three-dimensional movie."

    "Oh," she simply says. Then she suddenly throws her arms around Gabriel in a hug. "Thank you," she whispers.

    "I did nothing," Gabriel says. "You don''t have to thank me."

    "But if you must, just because we were ready to die for you if that thing turned out to be a killer," Miguel says, "then feel free to express your gratitude to me, too."

    Claire laughs, but she gives Miguel a half-hearted hug just the same.

    "Now I think we should proceed to getting out of this tunnel," Gabriel says with some impatience.

    "I''m famished," Claire says.

    As they proceed, they enjoy the more usual jump scares¡ªmummies jumping out of the shadows; there''s the usual line-up of zombies, some even more enthusiastic than others; ghosts and severed heads; there''s even a s?xy vampires, if that makes sense. Miguel even tries to get her number, which he says is just "for shits and giggles." Claire gives him the look.

    At one point, Claire almost stumbles, and because she''s walking right beside Gabriel, she almost falls upon him. "Take it easy," he whispers. "Yes, thank you," she just says. But Gabriel starts holding her by an arm, and he doesn''t let go. She feels warm in that part that is in contact with Gabriel''s skin, as though her nerves have concentrated in that area to fully report to her the full sensation. Gabriel would even glance at her as if to reassure her he''s got her and she doesn''t have to worry.

    Miguel doesn''t notice them as he walks quite ahead of them, playing the "advance guard" role so seriously.

    There''s something about the darkness, Claire realizes. She''s less afraid here to show her feelings. She''s less insecure. As though the sheer absence of light has given her all the license to just follow what she feels, and what she feels right now is to hold Gabriel''s hand like she means it; to hold it like she doesn''t want him to go; to hold it and somehow make him feel what she wants him to feel. She still hasn''t processed in her heart and mind that wonderful, inexplicable kiss on the rollercoaster¡ªthe taste, the sensation, the magic of it, and how they''re now acting as if that didn''t happen. What is really going on in Gabriel''s mind? What does he really want from her? One moment he acts as though she means nothing to him; the next moment, in her moment of weakness, nonetheless, he kisses her like his life depended on it. If this is his idea of torture, then she''s thoroughly tortured to the point of madness. So much that these little moments, this walking and stumbling in a dark fake tunnel and holding hands with him, are the little refuge that quenches her thirst for answers, even if this is a non-answer itself.

    It''s the same thing with Gabriel. He cannot think. He acts on impulse. But if his series of impulses reveals a certain pattern¡ªwhich all concerns Claire and to be near her and do things with her¡ªthen doesn''t that say something? Is he being like this because he''s a classic narcissist, does he just want all attention to be always upon him, that everything revolves around his ego? Or¡ªand this is a big deal¡ªis he really falling in love?

    As they emerge out of the tunnel, they are greeted by another amusement park attendant who checks their tickets and asks them how the experience was.

    "Awesome," Miguel says, as always. "I especially loved that little touch with the serial killer projection! It was totally rad!"

    The attendant''s brow furrows. Her name plate says she''s Kitty. "How do you mean?"

    "The projection. About in the middle of the tunnel, there''s a shadow of a man holding a knife, and it walks towards you and disappears into a wall? We really thought it was real. It must be a recent high-tech installation, right?" Miguel grins.

    "I''m not sure what you''re saying," Kitty says. "We don''t have any high-tech thing inside the horror booth. All we have in there are costumed actors and actresses and dolls and statues. We don''t have a projection. Perhaps you imagined it?"

    Three people "imagining" something simultaneously would be impossible, Gabriel wants to say. But they all look at one another, on their faces throbs a big question mark.

    So what in hell was that?

 Chapter 84 - The Corndogs of Tender Reminiscences

    Indeed, what in hell was that?

    "Maybe we hallucinated," Miguel says, as the three of them stroll on the main avenue of the amusement park. "Or maybe the light and shadows played tricks on our eyes."

    Gabriel shrugs. "The bottom line is, we were not harmed. Nothing bad happened. We got spooked, that''s all."

    "If that had been a legitimate ghost, then I''d choose to come face to face with that than an actual living, breathing serial killer," Claire says.

    "Fair point," Miguel says.

    If anything, that strange experience in the horror booth was indeed an experience of a lifetime, just what the brochure promised. Gabriel also realizes that Claire''s bodyguards would only be a fair distance away¡ªthey were probably in the tunnel, too, and that they were not alone, if that turned out to be a real person.

    They are almost at the end of the avenue, and about to enter the short promenade that leads to the exit, when Miguel stops them, sniffing something in the air. "Oh, yes," he says. "I smell corndogs. What say you we try that out? Just, you know, for nostalgia."

    "I think we''ve had enough of that for a night," Gabriel says.

    "I second the suggestion that we try the corn dogs, though," Claire says. The childlike smile has never left her face, and she looks even seemingly younger with that big teddy bear in her arms. "I''ve never tried one."

    "Oh, always the ''virgin'' of everything," Gabriel says with that grin.

    "So?" she snaps. "I''d rather be a v?r??n than be a jaded, cynical washed-up person." Who couldn''t even properly move on over his fianc¨¦e, she would have said, too, but she manages to stop herself.

    "Hey, that was a mouthful," Miguel says, smiling. "I guess someone''s really hungry, now with that temper."

    Claire says nothing. She casts Gabriel a sideward glance, then in an impulse, takes Miguel by the arm, who is only happy to take the lead. "Come on, Miguel, let''s find the purveyor of that corn dog!"

    Gabriel scratches his head, and it isn''t even itching. What did he do? He was only kidding. Ah women, and their inscrutable ways. One moment they''re fine, the next moment they''re the red-hot center of bad temper.

    Claire and Miguel sally forth toward the corndog hut, while Gabriel trails behind them. The corndog hut is now manned by a different person, not the old lady who used to work the counter and dip the batter-coated sausage-on-a-stick years ago. But it''s the same corndog brand, and it''s probably safe to presume that as far as nostalgic trips of the palate go, this one won''t disappoint.

    "Look, they''re now offering different flavors, imagine that," Miguel says, reading off the laminated list of corndog options."

    "If you want to walk down memory lane, you should only have the classic corndog," Gabriel says.

    "Three classic corndogs, then," Miguel says to the server.

    "No, I want a different one," Claire says, reading the menu. "One ''hellish spicy corndog from hell'' for me, please."

    "Are you sure?" Gabriel says. "There are two ''hells'' in that corndog''s name. I''m pretty sure they''re serious about it being extremely spicy."

    Claire pouts. "Well, if this ''virgin'' wants an extremely spicy hotdog to enter her mouth, then so be it!"

    Gabriel snickers and shakes his head; Claire is so innocent she doesn''t even realize the s?xu?? double-meaning of what she just said. He just shrugs and holds up his hands. "Alright, one corndog from hell for the lady who wants to try it all!"

    "Coming right up," the server says, with that knowing half-grin. He''s probably wondering about the dynamics of these three people. He probably feels the tension. But he''s just here to cook and serve batter-coated sausages, so, like that famous Foster the People song, he just "focuses on his ability."

    In no time, the two classic corndogs are served, while the server takes a bit more time finishing up Claire''s spicy corndog.

    Miguel gobbles up his corndog, while Gabriel picks at his serving, trying hard to pretend excitement yet failing dismally at it. He''s not really interested in nostalgia here, as he''s always visiting this amusement park. His mind is on Claire, even when she''s standing almost right next to him, trying to understand what he feels about her. This "date" seems to have taught him a few things, and foremost of it is that Claire knows how to kiss; at least she''s not a hopeless ''virgin'' as he loves teasing her. Also, and now he''s totally admitting this to himself, he''s probably going crazy¡ªobsessed¡ªabout her, yet he tries so hard to maintain distance, to keep things "proper." Yet he feels that there''s probably a point in the near future when he would just snap and cave in and surrender to his feelings.

    "One hellish spicy corndog from hell for you, Miss," the server says, so courteously handing Claire''s food on a paper plate.

    Claire''s face lights up. "Wow!" She gleefully takes it and examines it. "This smells terrific. Thank you, Miguel."

    Miguel nods. "See if you enjoy that spicy sausage, Claire. So that I''d know how to adjust in the future."

    Gabriel throws Miguel a disapproving look¡ªit was a subtle s?x joke, and one that Claire didn''t get because, after all, she''s being Claire. But Gabriel never misses it, and secretly he feels some resentment towards his brother. If Miguel can make jokes like this even now, then maybe he''s making his intentions clear. Maybe he only wants to list Claire as one of his conquests. Gabriel cannot accept that.

    Claire has removed the stick from the corndog, and now is stabbing it to "let the air in" and cool it down quickly. She licks her lips; obviously, she''s been hungry. When she thinks the food has cooled down enough, she takes a sizable bite of it. "Oh, my, the flavors are amazing," she stammers as she chews. "This sausages and the batter, they blend well with the spices. It''s unbelievable."

    The thing with the hellish corndog from hell is that it''s deceptive; the extreme spiciness doesn''t immediately ?ssault the palate. It acts like the flavor version of the Trojan horse, letting you eat a big chunk of it, then like a bomb, all the horrific spiciness suddenly explodes in your mouth.

    Which is exactly what happens. Claire suddenly stops chewing, her eyes wide. She mutters, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God, it''s hot!"

    Miguel and Gabriel scrambles to get a bottle of drink from the corndog hut''s own cooler, handing Claire a newly popped open bottle both at the same time. In her panic, she takes both and tries to gulp it down, one at a time. The men watch helplessly as Claire tries to "douse the fire" in her mouth. She''s almost teary eyed. "So hot!" she keeps saying in between gulps of drink.

    Gabriel panics. He''s always been the knight in shining armor, right? So as he watches Claire trying to quickly wash down the spiciness, in his mind, he thinks of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He doesn''t have time to realize how inappropriate that is in this situation. So he grabs Claire, and with all the wetness of his mouth (he intends to "saturate" the spiciness), gives Claire a long, wet, sucky kiss, right there as they stand. And Claire, so surprised and confused at what''s happening at the same time, shoves Gabriel away.

    He kissed her, in full view of Miguel, and in embarrassment and shock, Claire slaps him in the face. "Gabriel, you''ve been kissing me all night long," she yells, with tears in her eyes. "And not once did you ask me nicely!"

    She storms off, leaving both men standing there by the amusement park entrance.

    "You were kissing her?" Miguel says. "Why would you even do that, man? She was my date!"

    Gabriel gazes at him as he holds the cheek that Claire slapped; he opens his mouth, but no words come out. He also couldn''t explain. Maybe he''s just an ?sshole trying to take advantage of a vulnerable woman. Maybe he''s just selfish, and he doesn''t want his brother to enjoy his "special employee." Or maybe, just maybe, he''s just falling madly in love with her.

 Chapter 85 - The Post-date Walk Home

    What has gotten into you, Claire? Why did you have to do that? It''s not like you didn''t enjoy Gabriel''s kisses?

    Claire stomps through the dark path exiting the park, and out onto the main city avenue, her head on a spin. What she has are not simple feelings; they''re hopelessly entangled, as though each thread of thought is entwined with ten more.

    She yelled at Gabriel, in public, in front of everybody. In front of Miguel. Not only that, she also SLAPPED him. Take a moment to appreciate the gravity of that word, "slapped." Slapped across the face. The face of her boss, who''s now standing there, wondering where she got the balls¡ªballs, that''s a funny word for a woman¡ªto do that.

    But then again, she was in a state of panic¡ªher mouth was on fire, and everything seemed a blur. The moment she felt Gabriel''s mouth was on hers, she acted on reflex¡ªand everything else was a follow-up meant to justify the slap.

    She stands at a street corner, wondering if she should call up her chauffeur, then realizes it is not "her" chauffeur, but it is Gabriel''s employee, the man she just slapped and left. Jesus Henry Christ. Not ten minutes have passed and already Claire regrets her action. Maybe she should walk back to the amusement park and just say sorry? But if she does that, then how about her dignity? After all, he did take advantage of her in her moments of vulnerability. In fact, he has done that a number of times in the few days she has been in his employ, and in her moments of dark honesty, she wonders if that had been proper. Should she have allowed that, even if secretly she enjoyed every moment of it¡ªand actually craves for his kisses even now?

    For a split-second Claire thinks of walking into the path of incoming traffic and just end everything right there. But as soon as she thinks that, she takes it back¡ªthere''s so much she must still accomplish. "Focus on what matters, Claire," she mutters to herself. "Focus. And for now, all you need is get home."

    Even the word "home" is currently a paradox to her, mainly because even the place she calls home right now is, you guessed it, owned by the man she just slapped. More and more, Claire realizes that her world, as much as she''s under contract with Gabriel, is entirely limited by what Gabriel gives her, nothing more, nothing less. It is her entire reality. And there''s no point in rebelling against it. She can quit¡­but will she?

    So what she does is walk. Good thing, she doesn''t have a mobile phone even now. Gabriel doesn''t seem to mind it, although there were times he almost got irritated by her "unreachability." "Who doesn''t use a mobile phone in this day and age," he once chided her.

    "I can''t afford it," she simply said, although her real reasons were a bit more complicated than that.

    "I''ll tell Mrs. Gomez to issue you a company phone," he said, but that was it. He seems to have forgotten all about it.

    Having a mobile phone would have made her impulsive; she would have called him up by now, saying sorry, saying things she would later regret. She would have said things even before she could think about it. What''s more, she would always be a mere phone call away, no matter where she is or what she''s doing. And she would have hated that¡ªshe''s always valued her distance, her ability to take a few steps back and re-consider things from a certain perspective. If he''d call her up every time he wants, then that would really shake her sense of calm at its very foundation.

    Before she realized it, she''s standing right in front of the Residence. She''d been thinking deeply as she walked that she didn''t notice how much distance she has covered. Could it really have been five blocks already? She walked that? After what happened at the amusement park, all that excitement, who knew the night would end like this, back to her lonesome, with no one to say goodnight to, except Dale.

    "Good evening, Miss Claire," Dale actually greets her. "You seem quite¡­lovely tonight."

    "Thank you, Dale," she says. She feels good upon seeing a familiar face, and one that doesn''t seem interested in taking advantage of her. "It has been quite a day."

    "Oh, I''m sure whatever your day had been, it was far more interesting than mine." He smiles.

    "Maybe. But I''m sure you''d had some fun, too, right?"

    Dale giggles, as if he remembers something that fits the description of "fun."

    As she enters her penthouse suite, the sense of delicious bliss envelops her. Ah, this has become her sanctuary. Why is it that the past few days seem to end with her almost crawling back to this sanctuary with all the weight of the world on her shoulders? What''s going on?

    And of course, the night wouldn''t be complete without a few minutes spent in the Jacuzzi overlooking the city. Right now it''s night, and the city''s lights seem to tell her everything''s alright, that all is fine in this world. As the warm water massages her tired body, Claire gazes at the city''s evening skyline, her mind playing the events at the amusement park in an endless loop. She relives that moment on the rollercoaster, when she was trying to comfort him from his fear then he suddenly kissed her. That was¡­weird¡­and exciting and unforgettable at the same time.

    She''s thinking about what happened in the horror booth, inside that tunnel, when suddenly the phone rings. She doesn''t think of getting up and answering it, so she lets it ring and ring. But after the tenth or so ring, she rises from the jetted tub, wraps a towel around her n?k?dness, and dripping, paddles to the living room. She stares at the ringing phone for a minute, deciding whether or not she should answer it. It''s either Gabriel or Miguel, and she doesn''t have the heart to speak to either. But then maybe she needs closure, too. Gingerly, she picks up the phone and waits for someone to speak. On the end, she hears someone breathing; a song plays in the background, some old music she once heard when she was young.

    "Hello?" she says. "Who''s this, please?"

    But no answer.

    Claire sighs, then says, "Miguel, is this you?" Because after all it was Miguel who had asked her out on tonight''s little date.

    Gabriel is in a bar downtown, the kind that still has a jukebox machine. The song, Nina Simone''s "My Baby Just Cares For Me" currently plays on the jukebox, and Gabriel''s thinking about the lyrics moments after he''s put the phone back on the receiver. He almost said sorry. What kind of a man couldn''t say sorry to a woman he likes, perhaps even loves? This is the dig he frequents when he wants to be anonymous, when he wants to feel like he''s not Gabriel Tan, a place where only the bartender knows him but keeps his mouth shut. And this is where he tried to call up Claire to say something, only for him to change his mind, the supposed words lodging in his throat. It could have been simple. It could have been good. But he said nothing and hung up. Ain''t that grand?

    After all that has been said and done, today has shaped up to be one of the "best" days of his life.

 Chapter 86 - The Sunlight in her Hair

    On the way to the office the following morning, Claire''s chauffeur, some old guy named "Dean," is extra cheerful, for some reason. "You look especially lovely today, Miss Claire," he greets her. Even tips his hat.

    That puts a smile on her face. "Thank you, Dean." She thinks: in less than a month, I would be losing all these privileges. She couldn''t help but sigh, despite Dean''s cheerfulness.

    Dean had always been quiet whenever he services her. He''s always professional, almost to a fault. He''s probably one of those old school employees of Gabriel Tan, who belong to a world that no longer exists. He even hums a song as he drives, which eventually intrigues Claire.

    "What song is that?" she asks.

    "Oh," Dean laughs and looks at her on the rear-view mirror. "It''s an old song, Miss Claire. A hit on the airwaves long before you were born. I''m sure you haven''t heard of it."

    "Try me," she says, smiling.

    "It''s called ''Venus,''" Dean says. "A song sung by a boy named Frankie Avalon a long time ago. I just thought of it the moment you stepped out into the street. I remembered the lyrics, ''Venus make her fair, a lovely girl with sunlight in her hair''. Because that''s how you looked. I swear!"

    "I didn''t realize you''re quite a poet, Dean," Claire says. She giggles.

    "Yeah," Dean says. "Forgive me for saying this, but you''re quite lovely, Miss Claire. Mister Gabriel is such a lucky guy."

    Claire says nothing; the mention of Gabriel''s name pinches her heart with a little sadness. Dean, and most of the rest of the world, think the engagement is real. Only a handful of souls know the real score. "Thank you, Dean," she says after a while. "I''m sure your wife is even lovelier than me."

    "Oh, she truly was," Dean says, his eyes, set deep within wrinkled skin, light up despite everything else. "God bless her soul. She left the world ten years ago."

    "I''m sorry to hear that."

    "It''s fine, Miss Claire. I''ve learned to move on. I take comfort in the notion that perhaps we''ll meet again."

    Claire decides to speak no more. And somehow, the mere mention of his long-dead wife took away a bit of Dean''s previous cheerfulness.

    Claire still thinks of her chauffeur as she arrives at the office and takes her usual place. She surveys her desk: she has complete equipment. From the looks of everything, she has an actual job. So why doesn''t she actually work? What''s stopping her? Maybe she can learn about the business. After a few days of pretending and getting vague instructions from Gabriel, she might as well try to learn the rigors of TXCI''s business. What''s the whole point of dressing up as beautiful as this, with all the effort of Gabriel''s personal stylist, Miss Cassandra, if she only had to sit around doing nothing?

    She wasn''t really doing nothing, though. She had tried to champion Mary''s cause, and she has just started. She wants a better life for Mary, or at the very least, a well-deserved promotion. But there''s more: if Michelle''s really returning here and setting up office, Claire would have a few weeks to do what she can to help Gabriel, whatever he needs.

    Suddenly, she hears a voice from inside Gabriel''s office. Is he already here, so early in the morning? She cautiously peeps into the door and finds Gabriel in his big boss chair, his face deep into his newspaper, as though he couldn''t be bother. Claire thinks she must have misheard him, so she quietly closes the door again. But suddenly, Gabriel looks up from his paper and sees her.

    "Oh, Claire, here you are," he says, trying so hard to sound normal. Like last night never happened. Like Claire never slapped him in front of his own brother, who looked up to him and respected him and perhaps even idolized him¡ªslapped him like a fool. But Gabriel doesn''t care about that; he takes one look at Claire, and in the morning light, there seems sunlight in her hair, like the heavens has "chosen" her to be the one, or some silly shit like that, silly shit Gabriel is inclined to believe from here on. "I''ve been waiting for you."

    Claire stands before him, trying to act as though everything''s normal. Like last night never happened. Like last night this man didn''t kiss her, and she didn''t kiss him in return. Like last night she never slapped this man so hard it must have stung. "Yes, good morning to you, too, Gabriel." She tries to smile, but it comes out as a grimace. As though someone has shoved a needle up her bum and she''s trying to endure the pain. "Would you like me to get your coffee?"

    Gabriel gazes at her. Really, what''s the point? Just the other day, when Michelle visited, he had been ready to let Claire go. But how do you let go a girl like this? He gazes at her, and secretly he tries to kill the surge of emotion. Why does she look so lovely today? "No, thanks, no coffee for me today," he says. Then he points to a stack of boxes on his desk. "These are your company phone and tablet. You have to use these for efficiency."

    Only then does Claire notice the latest Apple iPhone and an iPad Pro, still in their sealed boxes. Her brow knits. "Do I really need these, Gabriel? You know I won''t even last here long enough to require the use of these gadgets."

    "I know. But even so, there may be times I may need to call you up. It is getting pretty intense here, you see."

    Claire says nothing. She stares at the sealed boxes. She has never used such pricey things before, not only because of the cost, but also because her lifestyle has no need for it. She''s not on Facebook, for instance. Twitter for her is still the actual bird variety. And wasn''t it just last night when she had been wondering how grateful she had been that she could still have some buffer, some space or distance whenever she needs? She was not at his beck and call; not she would be. "Can I refuse?"

    He shrugs. "Why refuse? You don''t have to pay for it. Just, you know, explore how they''re used, and you might find yourself needing it one of these days."

    "Maybe I can use the phone, but I''m not so sure about the iPad tablet, though. Really."

    "You can read books on it."

    "But can''t I do that on the phone?"

    "Bigger screen," Gabriel says, as though he''s an Apple salesman. "So it would feel like a bigger book."

    "It''s still text on a screen," she says, "regardless of size."

    "Magazines, the colorful ones. They''re better enjoyed on the bigger screen."

    "I''m not fond of celebrity magazines."

    Gabriel pauses, then an idea hits him. "Not celebrity magazines. Science. Scientific American. New Scientist. Discover. These devices all have built-in unlimited subscription to these things."

    That does it. Claire''s eyes go wide. She loves science magazines. The National Geographic. She won''t have to pay for actual copies, anymore. Can you believe that? "Really?"

    Gabriel nods. He knows he has made a home-run. He should have known at the get-go the types of things a "beauty and brains" combo like Claire would love. "So go ahead. You can spend the day fixing up these gadgets to your personal preferences."

    "Okay," Claire says, then scoops up the sealed boxes with her arms. "I''ll see what I can do with these things."

    Claire is opening the box of the Apple iPhone when Mary somehow passes by her. Mary''s eyes squint upon seeing the devices on her desk. "Have you just bought yourself the latest iPhone?"

    "Oh, no," Claire says. "Gabriel issued these to me for corporate use. I guess it''s standard company device for employees, no?"

    "What? Hell, no," Mary says. "All we get is the average Android phone. Nobody gets these except maybe the vice presidents, who are on a level that don''t get excited anymore by these things."

    "Oh," is the only thing Claire says. Would this become an object of contention? "Maybe there has been a mistake. I''ll check with Gabriel later," she just says, if only to dismiss Mary.

    Once Mary''s gone, Claire knocks on Gabriel''s office. She hears his voice. She thinks he''s singing. But when she opens it, Gabriel''s standing, his back to her. He''s facing the glass wall overlooking the city, and he''s speaking on his phone and cursing. "I''ll kill that bitch," Gabriel says to the phone. "I''ll drag her by the hair and throw her into the goddamn stairwell."

    Jesus, Claire thinks, and quickly closes the door.

    It seems Michelle Alcantara''s at it again. What should she do? And more importantly, what can she do to help Gabriel? Can she talk to him through his temper, or would he again treat her like garbage?

 Chapter 87 - The Conversation

    In normal times, it''s so easy for Gabriel to fly off the handle and threw things and furniture at people in rage. He had done that to Claire, both as a real thing and as part of an "act," and even Gabriel is aware of this. He cultivated this behavior to cement a certain reputation, one of notoriety, yet also of charisma.

    But this morning, his rage is genuine. His chief financial officer, an otherwise brilliant man named Ferdinand Salvador, is now telling him on the phone how exactly Michelle had slipped past their due diligence. "It''s clear based on the documents we have," he says, "Michelle had a very special arrangement with Relentless. It was a cunning plan, because Michelle''s company, Maxx Cosmetics, didn''t even have previous dealings with Relentless. It was all a shadow move. When we were in talks with Relentless, and even down to the date we signed the documents and everything was made legal, Michelle was already having a deal with the CEO of Relentless."

    "And you all didn''t detect any of it?" Miguel''s voice quakes.

    "No, because nothing was visible. Who would know? Unless we can read minds, you know." Ferdinand sighs. "But one thing is clear: Michelle won this round because of simple human greed. She offered Eric, the CEO of Relentless Holdings, an irresistible price for the purchase of his company, but only after our merger with them is signed and sealed and delivered. Eric practically sold his company TWICE, and earned more than ten billion dollars in the process."

    Goddamit, Gabriel thinks. And even as he grits his teeth, he has to admire Michelle''s grit in pulling this off. To hurt him in the balls, so to speak. "That ?sshole, Eric Matthews, we went to college together," Gabriel says. "This hurts even more. Can we declare the merger null and void, based on these recent findings?"

    "Unlikely. We''ve rechecked the contract. They''ve covered their ?sses, and we let them because as far as we know, there''s no precedent to this stunt they did. But we can sue," Ferdinand says, his voice getting raspy by the minute. "But should we really waste time and effort on that, instead of proceeding with our plans with Relentless and start doing good business? If we sue them, we''d lose not only a lot of money, but also good points on the public relations front. We''d get depicted as a small-minded company. We''re global, Gabriel, we should not let these personal things get in the way of our professional decisions."

    Damn it, Ferdinand, Gabriel thinks. How dare you ridicule my precious feelings? I''ll raze this whole organization down to the ground if I have to. But Gabriel actually says nothing; he actually purses his mouth to stop himself from uttering those words. Because the truth is, Ferdinand is right, there''s no use pursuing this. It''s best for both companies to just proceed as planned.

    "If anything, Gabriel," Ferdinand says, "this is a merger of equals, remember? It could have been worse. We could have ended up as the minority, and we''d be under Michelle''s thumb."

    Gabriel says nothing. He''s not sure if being equal with Michelle Alcantara is a good thing. "And is it true Michelle wants to set up office here? Right in TXCI headquarters?"

    "Apparently so," Ferdinand mutters.

    "Can I veto it? I''d hate to see her face here."

    "Well," Ferdinand says, "technically, we can''t order her around. But maybe we can ask nicely. Maybe we can have her set up in a different office building."

    "Asking nicely is out of the question," Gabriel says. "That doesn''t work with Michelle."

    Ferdinand pauses. Then he says, "Then maybe there is wisdom in this situation, Gabriel. Remember the old saying, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer? Maybe Michelle''s decision to be near you would turn out to be her undoing."

    After Ferdinand Salvador hangs up, Gabriel peeps out of his door and checks if Claire''s still there. She is, of course, typing something on her computer. The opened boxes of the devices he''d given earlier are on the floor, hidden from the view of other employees, as though she''s ashamed of them. This knits Gabriel''s brow. But this isn''t the reason why he must talk to her. "Cla¡ªBella, may we talk inside?"

    "Sure," Claire says, standing up. She smiles. She captures the glances of everyone else on the floor. She wonders what speculations they must be brewing. Better check with Mary later to see the "public pulse," so to speak.

    "You''re aware that we now have a bit of an irritation," Gabriel says as he slumps on his big boss chair.

    "I''m not sure which of the things that irritate you is the one you''re referring to right now." Claire is smiling, but her voice drips with sarcasm.

    Gabriel gazes at her for a beat. He sighs. "Michelle. She might set up office here. Maybe much sooner than expected. I feel she''s doing this as part of some revenge plot, or maybe just to annoy the bejesus out of me. Either I remove you from this place or¡­"

    "Why remove me? Don''t you get it?"

    "What didn''t I get?"

    "This is perfect," Claire says. "Michelle likes me. I can start working here as a real office person. I''ve got skills. When she sets up office here, I can find out what she really thinks, what she says behind your back. Maybe even the reasons why she did what she did."

    Gabriel scowls. "That''s no secret. The reason is she''s flat-out ugly in the soul, Claire. Pardon my French, but she''s simply an evil bitch."

    Claire doesn''t know what to feel about Gabriel saying words like "bitch" about another member of her gender, but she keeps her mouth shut. She shrugs.

    "Alright, hypothetically," he says, "she sets up office here tomorrow. What will you do?"

    Claire stares at him as if an insect has landed on his face. "What do you mean what should I do? Shouldn''t you be asking yourself that very question?"

    "Well, I already know my game plan. I just wanna make sure we''re on the same page."

    "I ?ssure you, Gabriel, you''ll have no problem with me. I''ll be an ?sset. I''ll show you what I can do. In fact, this excites me. At least I''ll have something substantial to do in the next few weeks I''m working for you. But maybe we don''t have to worry about that now, because as you said, it''s just hypothetical."

    Gabriel gives her a strange look. "What if it''s not really hypothetical?"

    "What do you mean? Will she really be here by tomorrow?"

    Gabriel nods. "And the shit hits the fan," he says.

 Chapter 88 - The Phone Call

    For some reason, the idea of actually working with Michelle has fired her up. Claire remembers her last encounter with Michelle, here at the office as Bella, and Michelle seemed to like her. It must be a strange twist of fate. And if Michelle indeed arrives tomorrow, then it''s going to be interesting to see how that plays out.

    Now, first things first. Claire must start learning the ropes with this company. Gabriel said he''s opening the path for her learning. It''s only a matter of formal training. Claire''s smart, anyway; she could easily learn about the business. It''s also the first time Claire realizes maybe she has a long-term future in the company, after her initial 30-day contract with Gabriel. Maybe. Gabriel''s issuing a memo later this afternoon, informing Claudia''s team to "adopt" Claire as an intern. "But not an intern ''intern''," Gabriel clarified. "You''ll be acting as my representative, so I''ll remind Claudia to treat you very nicely."

    Hmm. She''ll be working with Mary. That sounds exciting. Claire scans the faces of everyone else; at least the ones whose heads she can still see in their respective cubicles. Maybe this place is rich with untold stories. Maybe there are many people here, like Mary, who have suffered from wrongs that must be made right. So Claire hunkers down on her computer and starts typing her plans. She''s so intent on working that she doesn''t realize a couple of hours have already passed. It''s almost nearly lunch. Gabriel''s still in his room. Should she ask him if he wants a "working lunch" with her, to discuss the plans? But as she mulls it over, her desk phone rings.

    It''s Miguel, his voice seemingly excited for some reason. "Hey, how are things over there? Is everything good between you and Gabriel?"

    "Yeah," she says, but in a low voice, to keep anyone else from hearing her. "Why should you ask? Is anything the matter?"

    She hears him laughing on the other end of the line.

    "Are you for real?" Miguel says. "You slapped him last night, remember? I sure as hell remember."

    "Well," she says, "I''ve gotten past that. I''m here just to work."

    But Miguel continues to giggle. "You should have seen Gabriel''s face when you left. He looked like he''d seen a ghost. He was so stunned."

    Even Claire has to giggle at that. "Really?"

    "Aw come on," Miguel says. "You know Gabriel has never been slapped."

    It is only now that Claire realizes the magnitude of what she did last night. "Oh, my God, are you serious?"

    "Yeah," Miguel says. "That''s why I was sooooo surprised. I wasn''t even sure how Gabriel would react. I thought he would lose his temper and be angry at you. I thought he would run after you and fire you on the spot or something that a normal boss would do. But then again, he isn''t really a ''normal'' boss, is he?"

    Claire ignores the last line. "So how did he actually react?"

    "Well, he had his hand on the cheek you slapped, and he was like that for a long time. Like, for several minutes. As if the cheek was about to fall off and he was just trying to stop it from falling to the ground."

    Claire laughs, despite the supposed seriousness of the situation. "And then?"

    "I asked him, ''did you really kiss her?'' Because I couldn''t believe he would kiss you when you were officially my date, you know."

    Claire ignores the mention of the kiss. "And then?"

    "He stormed away in the direction opposite yours. I was left standing there. I ate all the corndogs. The corndog proprietor talked my ears off with his stories."

    They are both giggling and laughing. Then gradually, Miguel falls silent on the other end. "Claire," he mutters. "You didn''t deny or confirm the kiss. Did Gabriel really kiss you? You even said he was kissing you all night long."

    Claire answers with a high-pitch laugh, like there''s a bee up her knickers. "Oh, no, I only said that because I was angry. Imagine, my mouth was on fire, then he tried to ''resuscitate'' me by giving me a wet kiss? What was he thinking?"

    "You mean, he didn''t kiss you before that?"

    Claire hesitates for a split-second. "No, of course, not," she lies. As a lady, Claire wouldn''t kiss and tell, so this little white lie should be forgivable. Whatever happened between her and Gabriel last night should only be between her and Gabriel; Miguel doesn''t have to know the truth. She even over-compensates. "Why would I let him kiss me? He''s my boss. That would be totally inappropriate. And besides, I can''t fall in love with the person I work for."

    "Are you sure?" Miguel''s voice. "Because you sounded like really, really angry last night."

    While this phone call is happening, Gabriel is getting ready for lunch. He''s starving. He''d been here since very early in the morning, bullying the IT Department to issuing him the iPhone and iPad for Claire right then and there. Normally, there''s a process that must be followed, which could take weeks. Which means Claire could get the devices long after she''s no longer in Gabriel''s employ, and he won''t have that, of course. "I own every single fiber of carpet, even the air you breathe, in this entire building," Gabriel hissed. "If I want a phone and tablet pulled out for whatever special project I need them for, I want them pronto."

    Gabriel didn''t have to do that. But knowing Gabriel Tan with his ego and temper and his frequent need for validation, he came upon the IT Supervisor so heavy-handedly that the poor chap handed to him the devices quickly still in their utterly pristine sealed boxes, with trembling hands.

    It''s also important to note at this point that the TXCI Building is so tall and huge and houses so many tech companies that the structure is considered a full-fledged IT Park, even if it looks like just another building on the block.

    And now Gabriel''s starving. The news from his CFO didn''t help. He was so ready to fire a lot of people, but reason won; Gabriel realized he''d be in a better position if he retains by his side his most trusted men, especially if such men are the august members of his finance and legal departments.

    Gabriel peeps out of his room to check on Claire, intending to ask her out for lunch, but he freezes in place. Claire is speaking with someone on the phone, and the last line he hears is: "Why would I let him kiss me? He''s my boss. That would be totally inappropriate. And besides, I can''t fall in love with the person I work for."

    Claire giggles. To Gabriel''s eyes, Claire looks like she''s flirting. Gabriel correctly ?ssumes it''s Miguel on the other end. His face darkens. He steps out of his office, and intentionally slams the door so hard that it almost falls off its hinges.

    "Oh, my God," Claire exclaims in shock. "I thought a bomb exploded!"

    "Don''t chitchat on the phone during office hours, will you?" Gabriel snaps at her, then he storms off, leaving Claire pale as sheet.

 Chapter 89 - The Fallout

    "What in hell was that?" Miguel asks, who heard the loud slam.

    Claire hesitates. "It''s¡­ It''s Gabriel. He seemed angry."

    "Angry over what?"

    "I don''t know."

    "I thought you said you two were okay."

    "Yeah, I thought so, too. He even gave me a new phone, for company use."

    "Then why¡­" Miguel pauses. He sighs. "Gabriel is like that sometimes. Did he say anything, some hint to what he might be feeling earlier?"

    "No idea," Claire says; she tries to stop her voice from shaking, afraid that Miguel might hear it. "I was just¡­ I don''t know what happened."

    "He was probably talking to his people again, and got some bad news."

    Claire says nothing.

    "Are you all right?" There''s concern in Miguel''s voice.

    "I''m fine," she mutters.

    "I''m sorry, Claire," he says.

    "You don''t have to," she says, and at the tail-end of what she said, her voice was hoarse. "There''s nothing to be sorry. You know how Gabriel can be sometimes."

    "Yeah," he says. "I got used to it. I have to. He''s my brother."

    They both fall silent for a while. Claire tries to dredge her memory of what could have taken place before Gabriel snapped at her. On one hand, it seemed legitimate that, as her boss, Gabriel would want to set an example of her in front of all the other employees by yelling at her about the rule on speaking on the phone. On the other hand, it wasn''t obvious that she was making a personal call¡ªno one else except Gabriel could have heard what she was saying on the phone, and by all appearances she could be seen making a business-related phone call on his behalf. So there was no need for that kind of show, unlike all the other instances in the past¡ªshe could still recall how Gabriel threw that vase down the hallway after that lunch with Claudia and Mary. So it was completely a perplexing thing. Why would he get mad? Is it¡­

    "Is it possible that he heard you?" Miguel says.

    "That''s what I''m thinking just now," she says. "Is there anything bad about what I said?"

    "Maybe he was just pissed that you''re talking to someone about last night."

    "And he realized it was you?" she says. "Hmmm."

    "He''s jealous," Miguel teases, laughing. "He wants you for himself, and himself alone, in the whole wide world."

    Claire blushes, good thing Miguel doesn''t see it. "Stop it. That''s not true."

    "Oh, you''re not telling me the whole truth about last night, Claire," he says. "Maybe he did really kiss you, as you said, ALL NIGHT LONG."

    "Mary, we''re coming out to lunch, right?" Claire says aloud, pretending Mary''s right in front of her, asking her out. "Sorry, Miguel, have to run for lunch. Talk later. Bye!"

    She puts down the receiver even before Miguel could say a thing. That was close. Miguel is insufferable; he just won''t stop. She realizes now that she got in trouble because of Miguel¡ªlast night, everything would not have happened if Miguel didn''t bring her to the amusement park. And now this: Gabriel would have overheard NOTHING if she wasn''t on the phone trying to parry off Miguel''s incessant questions. That should be the last time; Claire makes a solemn promise to herself to avoid Miguel at all cost. These are critical times: Michelle is coming, her role is becoming serious, and she needs to learn fast how to use these new-fangled gadgets Gabriel provided to her. Whatever hurt she felt when Gabriel snapped at her earlier, she has to swallow it and hide it at the very bottom of the day''s current concerns. Perhaps she should talk to Gabriel later.

    Coincidentally, Mary actually passes by her desk on the way to the office dining room. "Do you have time to eat with us today, or are you going out again for some important top-secret fine-dining luncheon meeting?" Mary grins innocently.

    "The powers-that-be have all but forgotten about me, Mary," Claire says, standing. "I''m all yours."

    "My goodness," Mary chirps. "I feel so honored!"

    "Aww, Mary, stop it," Claire giggles.

    "Seriously, I feel so proud to be walking the hallways of this office and making a grand entrance to the dining room with you, Bella," Mary says, smiling. "It feels as if I''m suddenly cool by ?ssociating with you."

    "I''m just a lowly employee here, Mary, just like everybody else."

    Mary gazes at her. "You don''t look like an employee, Bella. Why are you always so glamorous? Like you have a personal stylist from Hollywood that chooses everything you wear every morning."

    Claire almost chokes on her inward laughter. Oh, Mary. If you only know. "I''m not doing anything different, Mary. I just try to put on the first thing I found in my wardrobe."

    "Oh, in my apartment, we don''t have a wardrobe. Only hangers."

    Claire stops herself from saying something.

    Mary leans toward her and whispers conspiratorially. "Everybody''s talking about you."

    Claire blinks. "In what context? I hope in a good way."

    Mary gestures with her hands. "Some good, some bad," she says. "Of course, all the women are curious¡ªand envious. They wonder about from what school were you, are you rich, why are you in that job, et cetera. They wonder how is it possible for someone who looks like you to be working as executive ?ssistant of Gabriel Tan, how are you able to stand him when a lot of others did not? And the clincher? They wonder if you have¡­a sugar daddy!"

    Claire laughs out loud. "Oh, my God!" She looks around. They''re walking on the hallway toward the elevator lobby, along with most of the other employees who are giving them "the look," which means either they are curious about her and wants to know her more, or they just hate her guts. She catches some of the girls staring at her, so she says aloud, "Do I look like I have a sugar daddy? In what planet is that possible?"

    Mary only giggles more at that, which proves to be contagious, as Claire is also giggling like a teenager.

    "So today''s your first official lunch at our very own dining room," Mary says. "Oh, my God, I''m so excited. It feels like the first day of high school!"

    "Did I hear that right earlier," Mary again whispers to her ear.

    "What about?"

    "Was the boss yelling at you for using the desk phone?"

    Claire makes an embarrassed laughter. "Oh, that was a misunderstanding. Mister Tan was just¡­"

    The elevator doors before them slide open, and what do they see? Gabriel Tan, with that resting bitch face, who sees Claire but acts like he doesn''t even know her. He walks out, and the crowd of employees obsequiously part like the Red Sea.

    "Is he still angry?" Mary says.

    Claire gazes at Gabriel as he walks away. Seriously, she''s not sure anymore what''s going on in this man''s head. How¡ªand where¡ªdoes she even start in trying to fix everything?

 Chapter 90 - The Lunch with the Boys

    "I think he''s angry," Mary whispers, looking around to make sure nobody''s eavesdropping on them.

    "I think he''s only very hungry," Claire says. "He was gone so briefly. It''s not possible that he''d already had lunch."

    Claire considers going back to speak to Gabriel. She wants to make things clear. She feels something large¡ªthe elephant in the room¡ªhas not been addressed since morning. Miguel''s right¡ªGabriel must have been nursing a grudge because of last night, and because they failed to talk about it this morning, it must have snowballed in Gabriel''s heart. And now he''s being cranky. Normal people talk about these differences, these conflicts; they didn''t. They merely ignored it, acting like it never happened. Yet it did.

    Mary notices her falling silent. "Would you like to go back?"

    But they''re already inside the elevator, and it''s full of people. There are at least two layers of people in front of them, and when the doors finally slide close, Claire says, "No, it doesn''t matter. I''ll take care of it later."

    "Are you sure?" Mary says.

    Claire blinks. Of course, she''s sure. What does Mary expect her to do, stop the lift and hassle everybody here? "Yeah, it can wait." She tries to smile.

    The descent seems to take forever. Maybe she''s just paranoid, but Claire feels as if people are giving them sideward glances, scrutinizing her, wondering why she''s here, going among the "peasants." And the place is packed; the man in front of her has "accidentally" elbowed her br??st quite a few times already. When finally the panel dings to "2" and the doors slide open, Claire breathes a sigh of relief.

    "The entire second floor is our dining room, Claire," Mary says, like a tour guide. "The menu is usually a well-balanced offering consisting of a chicken, beef, pork, or fish meal. And salads. And a variety of desserts."

    "Is the payment deducted from employees'' salary?"

    "Oh, no," Mary says. "It''s all free. You can eat as much as you want, as often as you want. In fact, the problem here is self-control¡ªpeople are gaining weight, especially the new ones who didn''t yet realize how much calories they are packing on their trays."

    Noted carefully, Claire thinks, touching her waist. "That would be no problem with me. I only eat bird seed."

    Mary giggles. "So that''s why you have that killer figure!"

    "Why is it free, by the way?"

    Mary shrugs. "I''m not sure. It has always been free ever since the beginning. It''s one of Mr. Tan''s company perks. Everyone eats here, even the vice presidents or the directors. But of course, considering they have gigantic pay checks, they often choose to have some posh lunch elsewhere."

    "Oh, I see."

    "Which brings me to one important question: When are we dining at your place again?"

    A beat, before Claire realizes what she''s asking. "Oh, you mean at the Residence?"

    Mary nods enthusiastically, picturing the exquisite meal she had when last she was there, courtesy only of Claire.

    "We can dine there anytime you want," she says. "How about tomorrow?"

    "Oh, wow! Really? Jesus, I won''t eat breakfast so I''ll have enough room."

    Claire laughs. "I''ll ask the chef to prepare something fabulous."

    The entrance to the dining room is unassuming: just silver double-doors with safety signs and an access ramp for persons with disability. Mary opens the door for Claire, saying, "Welcome to the very source of all our weight problems."

    The interior is nothing fancy. It look just like a huge restaurant, with rows of tables, each of which could seat six people. "Would you know the capacity of this place?"

    "Seating capacity, you mean? Maybe around ten thousand people. And this operates twenty-four hours, seven days a week."

    "How come?"

    "Well, it''s because almost half of the building''s occupied by business process outsourcing companies operating under TXCI. Call centers. Mr. Tan''s business never sleeps."

    Imagine the burden of all that business, Claire thinks. And to think this is only one of several.

    "This way, please, Miss Bella," Mary says, acting like a proper usherette.

    To enter the area where food is served, they have to tap through a turnstile, much like on the subway. People get a tray, then fall in line. Claire looks at the selection of food served by the people clad in white chef uniforms. "Not bad," she says. "So this is like a daily buffet for everyone."

    "Yeah," Mary says, as she directs the food server to put a slab of steak on her tray, along with a bowl of mashed potatoes. "We try to eat very minimally, you know, to avoid getting fat." She grins.

    Claire decides to go for a salad, and an apple. Everyone on the line looks at her tray, and proceeds in gazing at her from head to toe, as though thinking, "Yeah, that makes sense."

    They''re ambling in the middle area, looking for a table, when a man''s voice yells, "Mary, over here!"

    "Oh, it''s that group from Legal," Mary whispers. "They all look cute, no? One of them has the hots for me."

    "Really?" Claire smiles, indulging her. "Keep him on a string, then."

    One of the men stands up and offers Mary a seat, while Claire takes the seat opposite Mary.

    Claire''s seat has yet to warm and already the men take turns in interviewing her.

    "Oh, how''s working for Gabriel Tan so far?"

    "Did you know Michelle Alcantara''s coming?"

    "You look live I''ve seen you on TV."

    "Are you a freelance model?"

    "Boys, boys, boys!" Mary says, upraising her hands. "Let my friend here have her lunch in peace, will you. And save all the naughty questions for me."

    The men laugh. "Mary, we already know all the answers to the naughty questions about you."

    "Oh, really," Mary says, her eyes squinting. "I''m sure you haven''t heard about that one thing that''s most important."

    "What?" they ask in unison.

    Mary shrugs. "If I tell you, I''ll have to kill you."

    Everybody laughs. Everybody, except the man sitting right beside Claire, who has been gazing at her sideways.

    "Don''t mind the boys," he says. "They think they''re still in high school."

    "I know," Claire says, tentatively stabbing a fork at her salad. "I''m quite used to that."

    "Must go with the territory," he says. "I''m Anthony, by the way."

    His handshake is firm and warm, Claire notes. And for some reason, she''s transported back to that first moment Gabriel Tan interviewed her, when she signed the Red Contract: his handshake was also like this, warm, firm. She looks around on impulse, as though expecting Gabriel to suddenly turn up and save her from this crowd.

    "You''re looking for someone?" Anthony is quick to notice.

    "Oh, no, just¡­Nothing."

    "Anthony''s one of the managers in the Legal Department," Mary helpfully offers, as she tries to cut a piece of steak. "Anthony, this is Bella Xavier. I''m sure you already know about her." Then she turns to Claire. "They almost lost their jobs recently, you know."

    Claire appears shocked. "How come?"

    "Didn''t you know?" Anthony says. "It''s because of Michelle Alcantara. The big boss thought we were all to blame for that big coup, so we were set to get fired. All of us. But thankfully, our CFO saved our ?sses and enlightened Gabriel about the truth."

    Claire is hearing about this only now. She knew about Michelle, but that''s it. The intricacies of these business decisions and intrigue didn''t trickle down to her, maybe because Gabriel wants to spare her from the agony.

    She turns to Anthony. "May I be blunt, Anthony?"

    Anthony takes a sip of water. "Yeah, sure."

    "You all look very capable, very talented in your team," she says, weighing her next words. "But I find it hard to believe someone like Michelle could fool you. Tell me the truth. Were you all lying to Gabriel Tan?"

 Chapter 91 - The Object of her Affection

    Anthony is unable to speak for a few moments. He''s no idiot; he knows he''s speaking to Gabriel Tan''s confidante. Bella Xavier, for the rest of Gabriel Tan''s employees, is a beautiful enigma. They see her as the only one, aside from Mrs. Gomez, who speaks to Gabriel as if an equal, and they are fascinated¡ªwho''s this person who is somehow shielded, by divine intervention, from Gabriel''s Draconian ways?

    So when Claire, as Bella, makes a blunt question about the Legal Department''s competence, and honesty, Anthony''s jaw drops. Was Bella unleashed upon them by Gabriel to determine the truth? But then again, Bella''s so obvious, the question so innocent, if not ballsy, that makes Bella''s hidden motives unlikely.

    "Knowing about these things is above my pay grade, Bella," Anthony says after a while. "But believe, we did the usual due diligence. There was absolutely no inkling of Michelle''s involvement. Why do you ask? Is Mr. Tan still doubtful despite what our CFO told him?"

    "Oh, no," Claire says. "I ask it out of my own curiosity. The matter is settled as far as Gabriel is concerned. We''re even getting for whatever change is going to take place once Michelle sets up office here."

    "Would there be more drama?"

    "That''s what we''re trying to avoid," Claire says, "or at least manage."

    Anthony twirls pasta into his fork. "That must be the reason why Gabriel hired you, Bella. You''re perceptive." He looks straight at her. "Beauty and brains."

    "Stop flattering my friend here," Mary intervenes, pointing a fork at him.

    "I''m just stating the obvious," Anthony says, laughing.

    "Alright, we''re done here, Bella," Mary suddenly says, as she stands up carrying her tray of still unfinished food.

    Claire hesitates, but she''s compelled to stand up and go with Mary. "Wait!"

    "What happened?" Claire asks.

    "Remember what I mentioned earlier? One of those guys at the table was into me." Mary purses her lips and looks at Claire. "It turns out I''ve been so wrong. It was Anthony, Bella. I liked that guy for the longest time. He''s so handsome, isn''t he? But a few seconds of meeting you and it became obvious I had been fooling myself for so long."

    "Look, you may also be so utterly wrong about this," Claire says. "Anthony is just being nice. He''s meeting me for the first time, of course he will be polite to me. Especially given the fact that I am Gabriel Tan''s secretary. People are compelled to be nice to their boss''s secretary, Mary. It''s an unspoken disposition."

    Mary says nothing. She''s looking at her feet as they walk back toward the elevator lobby. "I haven''t even begun eating that second slice of steak," she mutters with regret. "I should not have reacted so quickly."

    Claire smiles. "That''s okay. Consider it a blessing in disguise. At least, we''ve controlled what we eat. Promise, when we have lunch at the Residence, I''ll ask the chef to only serve a calorie-conscious course."

    Mary blinks. "Oh, I like that. In fact, I''d love that!"

    The elevator doors ding open. "Here''s our ride back to hell," Mary says.

    Hell? Claire looks at Mary, but keeps her mouth shut. Perhaps it''s normal for employees to treat their workplace as hell? Because with all the perks, Gabriel''s company doesn''t seem to be so bad at all. She''s seen other organizations, and they are worse. And she''s been working for only over a week now, and she''s hasn''t felt anything bad about the company itself, only for her boss, the owner. But it''s a complicated thing, what she feels for Gabriel. It''s never black and white.

    Mary goes straight to her cubicle upon catching sight of her boss, Claudia, hovering over her desk. "Oh, God, I haven''t printed out Claudia''s contract yet!" She runs.

    Claire quietly settles in her own workstation. She wonders if Gabriel''s already in his room. She can''t just barge in there without any pretext. She needs an excuse. But at the moment, she has none. Why not just take a peep? Just open the door a little bit, and see if he''s there, Claire, will you? Jesus. Claire fights the urge to just do it¡ªjust open the door to take a little peep. What if¡­ What if he''s there and he sees her? What''s her excuse? She would look foolish.

    But then again, it would just be quick. A little push of the door, see if he''s there, and close it back. Gabriel often has his head deep in his newspaper or whatever documents he''s reading. He won''t notice her, right? Right?

    Alright! She screams in her head, surrendering to the urge. Just a little peep okay, she tells herself. Just one quick little push of the door, she''ll be in and out and that''s it. Why is this too hard?

    Claire stands by the door, trying to "feel" Gabriel''s presence on the other side of it. She looks around; everybody seems busy with their work. She stoops down, carefully turns the doorknob, and¡­

    "Are you looking or someone?" a voice behind her says.

    "I''m just checking if Gabriel''s here," Claire says without looking back. "He''s not in his big boss chair. Maybe he''s under the sofa." Then her brow furrows. She looks back and her jaw drops open.

    "Aren''t you supposed to knock first, Cla-I mean, Bella?" It''s Gabriel.

    "I-I''m sorry," Claire says, her voice shaking. "I was just¡­ I mean, I''d just like to ask if you¡­If you need coffee."

    Gabriel smiles, but it''s the kind of smile that is joyless. "You''re blushing, Claire. Your face is so red. Take it easy. And no, I don''t need coffee." He steps into his office. "I''ll call you if I need you," he says coldly. Then he closes the door. Not rudely. He doesn''t slam it. He closes it like a normal, sane person.

    Gabriel stands by the closed door, uncertain of what just happened. He''s not sure if he wants to laugh or what. Claire stooping down like a peeping Tom looked so funny. And also very s?xy¡ªbut no, he doesn''t want to think of her in that way. For a moment, he forgot about what he had heard her say on the phone earlier. Perhaps he shouldn''t be so hurt about it. After all, she has a point: it''s not normal for people to fall in love with the person they work for. Unless he makes the effort. Maybe he should talk to her. But when? And how?

    On the other side of the door, Claire is also stunned¡ªshe''s so embarrassed. She couldn''t believe Gabriel would appear at the most inopportune moment¡ªand he even noticed how red she was in the face from embarrassment? But at least she made him smile. At least the ice has been broken. And maybe later, they could talk. Yes, she''d talk to him. She only prays Gabriel''s temper won''t race past his reason this time.

 Chapter 92 - The Utter Wetness of it All

    Ever since he closed the door, Gabriel has been standing by the glass wall, staring at how clouds form over the city. It''s going to rain, Jesus. Dark rain clouds tower over their world, like the overfed tentacles of some floating monster. Gabriel grinds his teeth: there''s Michelle coming over tomorrow, there''s Miguel trying to get in his way, there''s Claire getting heartbreakingly beautiful by the day¡ªwhich of these pressing concerns should he attend to?

    Hundreds of years ago, a priest developed a simple way to know which is true: the simplest solution is most likely the right one. Or if there are many explanations about a single thing, the simplest explanation is most probably the correct one. It''s called "Occam''s razor," and Gabriel is thinking about it now, having learned it in college years ago. He''s always used it when interviewing people, or talking to his subordinates. It''s not perfect, but so far, it has been a good help in helping him make his decisions.

    He''s trying to use Occam''s razor now in deciding what he should do first? He tries to feel it in his heart, in his gut, and what he feels tells him one thing: Solve the Claire Monteverde problem.

    He would have solved it, but he felt it was too immature. He''d only known Claire for a week, and now, he seems to be head over heels for her. Is this feeling real? Is this real enough to be out in the open? Occam''s razor tells him one thing: yes.

    But add to that is what he overheard earlier: "I won''t fall in love with the person I work for," Claire had said. So what did the past few days mean? Was she just playing? Or was she just trying to let him because he''s the boss, the employer, and Claire the vulnerable, desperate job seeker.

    Now it begins raining; the big, fat drops of rain bombard the glass wall by his face. He gazes at it, at the world being blurred behind a curtain of water. The torrential drops seem to accentuate the emotional gravitas of this moment. And for an instant, he entertains a crazy thought: what if he tells her he loves her? Like today? Like before this day ends, regardless of the circumstances?

    He gazes at the wall clock, and the hour surprises even him¡ªit''s not possible that four hours have passed! It''s almost near punch-out time. He wonders why Claire didn''t even knock and ask him about how he''s doing? He''s the boss, his secretary should always be checking on him, right?

    Is she even at her desk?

    Curious, Gabriel quietly opens his door just a little bit, just to take a peek at Claire''s desk out in front of his office. But no one''s occupying the workstation, and there''s no one else around. People must have taken an early out on account of the rain. But still not contented, Gabriel stoops down to look below Claire''s desk, where he sees the opened boxes of the gadgets he''d given her earlier, and her bag, an Hermes that must have been provided by Cassandra as part of Claire''s outfit for the day. And there''s the¡­

    "Are you looking for something?" a voice says from behind.

    "Oh, I''m just checking if my secretary''s still¡­" Gabriel blinks, and looks behind her. His jaw drops. "Oh, Cla¡ªBella! I thought you''re gone."

    Claire smiles oh so sweetly; inwardly, she''s laughing, as she finds this hilarious. Only a few hours earlier Gabriel found her in the same situation. Now the table has turned. "You know I always let you know whenever I''m going out. You''ll always know where I am, Gabriel."

    "Yeah, uhh, well¡­" Gabriel hesitates. He sighs. "Can you come inside the office. There''s something I want to tell you."

    "Sure," Claire says. She follows him into his office.

    Gabriel paces about, as though trying to frame the words in his mind before blurting it out to her. Claire just stands there, waiting for him to say something. Meanwhile, behind Gabriel is the breathtaking view of the city being bombarded by what seems to be a rainstorm.

    "It looks lovely," Claire says.

    "What?" Gabriel is yanked from his thoughts.

    "I meant the view behind you" she says, gesturing toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. "Doesn''t the rain make you feel romantic?" She smiles.

    Gabriel gazes at her. He wants to say a million things. But foremost of those million things is one single line: Do you really think you won''t ever fall in love with me?

    But at the last moment, the words don''t escape his mouth and stays there, deep in his heart, among the growing pile of things left unsaid.

    "So what is it?" Claire says. "You''re supposed to say something, right?"

    A beat. Then Gabriel, the huge gigantic coward that is bigger than Uranus, smiles nervously and says, "Oh, I just want to¡­To remind you to get in early tomorrow morning. We have some work to do. Let''s be ready before Michelle comes."

    Claire gazes at him for a few moments, before saying, "That''s it?"

    "Yeah," Gabriel says. He even shrugs.

    "Okay," she says. "I got to get going." She''s already by the door when she turns and says, "Can I borrow one of the office''s golf umbrellas? The big red ones by the receptionist desk?"

    "Why? Won''t you call up the chauffeur to fetch you?"

    She smiles. "I''d like to walk in the rain. I love this weather. If you don''t mind?"

    "Oh, no, please, go ahead," he says. He catches sight of his own unopened golf umbrella, a "signature gift" by TXCI to its partners during the last promotion, in a corner. "Actually, don''t bother the receptionist. Take mine. It''s a ceremonial umbrella, but it works and it''s completely waterproof. It''s wide enough to protect you from the sudden bursts of wind." He hands her the red umbrella, still in its luxurious faux-leather holster.

    "Are you sure?"

    "Yes, yes, please, take it, it''s yours."

    Claire holds the umbrella like she has just been awarded with the Best Employee Award. "Oh, thank you."

    Then she leaves. Just like that.

    And like before, Gabriel stands there, the biggest idiot in the universe, the things he left unsaid now burning a huge hole in his heart. What should he do now? Can he wait a day, a week, a year? A lifetime? Before he takes a risk to tell her how much she means to him? He begins pacing the floor, weighing his hopes against his fears, trying to trim away all the bullshit he continues to make up, and to look at the true picture. Claire has left the building. Should he wait until tonight, tomorrow? Should he just call her on the phone? What if she, like last time, doesn''t pick up? Oh, no. No. I can''t bear this, he thinks. I can''t sleep on this. I can''t stand another night thinking about could-have-beens and would-have-beens and regretting everything that I didn''t say.

    He looks at his wristwatch. It has been many minutes since Claire left. She''s only walking back to the Residence, she said. If he runs after her, maybe he''ll catch up.

    So in a moment of madness, in that split-second when Gabriel''s mind whites out as he rejects all his fears and latches all his hopes on that single image of Claire smiling at him, Gabriel makes a dash out the door. He almost pounds the elevator bu??ons to submission. He jumps out as soon as the doors slide open. There''s no one in the building''s lobby except the security officer, who greets him politely.

    Outside, the rain is relentless. Instantly he experiences some sort of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, like this same exact scene has happened before, in the very same circumstances. He thinks of running down to the basement parking¡ªsurely, if he uses his car, he''ll immediately catch up with Claire. He makes quick, desperate mental calculation: unfortunately, he parked on the third basement level. He takes the elevator, that delays him for a few minutes. If he runs and takes the stairs, maybe even longer. Driving out of that winding, torturous basement parking could take forever.

    Jesus, no, he''s not taking the goddamn car. So he leaps out of the building''s entrance doors¡ªthe same entrance where he''d met Claire a lifetime ago when she was lining up for a job¡ªand dashes out in the rain. He runs toward the general direction of the Residence, taking the main avenue. Claire won''t take the alleys; she''d be walking down here, because it''s safer and has more shops and restaurants and people.

    The rain stings Gabriel''s eyes, but he forges ahead, trying to make out in the distance the big red umbrella Claire is using. Not a few minutes and he''s almost out of breath, but he''s rewarded for this: more than a block away, he could make out Claire''s red umbrella.

    "Claire," he yells out, half-running, half-jogging, like he''s just stabbing in the dark as he couldn''t really get a clear view of where he is. And as if on cue, it even rains harder this time; in the distance, lightning crashes, thunder booms. It all feels like he''s in a movie, and he''s about to run into that scene where the main character either breaks it or makes it. He doesn''t want to break it, so he summons all his remaining strength and forges on. "Claire! Claire!" He yells. And like a miracle, the red umbrella stops receding from his view; it just stops there, its owner rooted on the spot.

    "Claire," Gabriel shouts, his voice drowned out by the rain. He''s completely soaked, his Armani suit looking more like a poorly manufactured raincoat. But he doesn''t mind; Claire''s is only meters away. He''s almost there. "Claire, wait!"

    The red umbrella turns, its owner looking at him. "Gabriel?" Claire''s voice sounds like the softest whisper. "Gabriel, is that you?"

 Chapter 93 - The Big Confession

    Claire couldn''t believe what she''s seeing: Gabriel emerging out of the rain, like someone in a dream. And she panics: what if he gets sick, pneumonia or something? This rain may seem romantic, but it''s very cold, and that could kill you.

    "Gabriel, what have you done?" Claire mutters. "Why? Did I forget something? Did you just walk in the rain all the way from the building?"

    "I''m sorry, Claire, I just¡­" Water drips down Gabriel''s face, and he keeps running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair to keep it from covering his eyes. He wants to see her, to see her eyes, as he says things he had left unsaid for the longest time. "There''s something I must tell you. Something very important."

    "You could have said it to me earlier," she says. "You didn''t have to run in the rain. Come, this umbrella is large enough for the two of us. You''d catch a cold if you stay out there too long."

    Gabriel upraises a hand. "No, I''m fine, Claire. This rain is nothing. I just need to get something off my ?h?st. Is it alright if I say it?"

    By now Claire is so confused by this antic that all she manages to do is nod her head.

    "Well, I don''t know where to start, but here it goes. I''ve hired you for one job, but even I didn''t expect I''d come to the point of changing the way I look at the whole thing. I''ve changed. You have changed me. I''m no longer very concerned about getting revenge on Michelle. I want a new start. And if I''m fortunate, I''d want a new start with the finest woman I''ve ever met." He sighs. "Maybe what I''m trying to say is, I just want to know the truth."

    "Truth?" Claire''s brow creases. "Truth about what?"

    "The truth about what you said earlier." Gabriel pauses, waiting for her to recognize it. But she doesn''t seem to be arriving at that particular recognition.

    "I don''t¡­" Claire mutters, getting lost in the jumble of words Gabriel is spewing. "What are you trying to say, Gabriel?"

    A beat. In the distance, thunder booms. "I just want to know, is it true that you won''t ever fall in love with me?"

    "You mean the phone call? Earlier, when you snapped at me angrily, is that what this is about?"

    "No, this is about more than that," he says. "This is about me liking you."

    "What?"

    "I like you, Claire," he says, trying to smile through the rain. "I like you so much."

    Some old guy, wearing a trench coat, stops in the middle of them, looks at each of their faces, then looks around. "Where''s the camera?" he says. "Are you shooting a movie scene? Is this a TV drama? Come on, where is it?"

    "This is not a movie," Gabriel snaps at him. "This is real life. Move on, nothing to see here."

    But the old guy, he gazes at Gabriel''s face, as though recognizing him. "Hey, you look familiar. Are you one of those movie actors?" He turns to Claire. "And you, aren''t you one of those supermodels? Jesus, you''re shooting a scene! So where is it? Where''s the camera?"

    "There''s no camera, man. I''m trying to say something here."

    "Well, you''re standing there in the rain, you''re telling her you like her. So this couldn''t possibly be real. You must be filming a movie. This is a great scene!"

    "No, this isn''t," Gabriel snaps. "Please move on."

    But the old guy doesn''t budge. He makes a few tentative steps back, as though to give them space for their "scene." "Can I just watch here?"

    Jesus, Gabriel thinks. But he controls his temper. This moment must not be spoiled. This is a make-or-break point, and if he yells at this old guy, he might scare her away. So he tries to ignore him. He turns back to Claire, who looks like she''s trying to not laugh at the whole thing. "Claire I mean it. I like you. I really like you."

    "Come on," the old guy watching them says. "You can''t even say you love her? Who wrote this goddamn screenplay?"

    "Shut up," Gabriel says. "I''m telling you for the last time, move on. Nothing to see here."

    "You''re doing it wrong, kid," the old guy says. "You ran all the way, in the rain, just to tell her you like her? You have to be better than that. Do you know that old Billy Joel song, ''Tell her about it?'' Huh? Do you want me to sing it for you?"

    Gabriel looks at him, wondering where he''d come from and what is happening. Why is this old guy here cramping his style? He waits; probably the old guy would leave if he only gazes at him so intensely.

    But the old guy, he actually sings. "Tell her about it, tell her everything you feel, give her every reason to accept, that you''re for real¡­"

    "He''s right," Claire finally says, gazing at him. She''s no longer smiling; her eyes say this is now a different ballgame.

    "Okay," Gabriel mutters. He turns back to Claire. "Okay." He takes a deep breath. "Claire, you drive me crazy. I think about you all the time. My life is complicated, but when you came into my life, it became much more complicated, but in a good way. A great way, in fact. And I won''t exchange that complication for anything else in the world. I think what I''m trying to say is¡­. I can''t live without you. I love you, Claire. My life has turned upside-down in the past week that you''ve been here with me."

    The old guy says, "Now that was beautiful. Attaboy!"

    Claire says nothing. She just gazes at him. Then she says, "You will catch a cold if you stay in the rain too long. Come here, you crazy rich boy. I don''t want you getting sick just for the sake of saying those corny lines."

    As if entranced, Gabriel obediently approaches her and gets under her umbrella. "It''s not corny. It''s what I feel."

    Claire makes a face. "I don''t believe you."

    "What?"

    The old guy, their "special audience", also says, "What?"

    "I don''t believe a single word you said."

    "I''m saying the truth, Claire. This is how I feel. This is how I''ve been feeling ever since I''ve met you."

    Claire gazes at her. "Okay," she mutters. "Okay, but let me table that for another time. It''s such a big ask, Gabriel. I didn''t expect it." She sighs. "But for starters, walk with me. Let''s get your clothes changed. You''d get sick with your crazy antics, Gabriel Tan. What were you thinking, running in the rain like that just to tell a woman you like her?"

    "Well, I would do more¡ª"

    "No excuses," she snaps. "Here, hold this umbrella for me. I will try to think about what you said, but be nice. Because girls like me may change their minds all the time. You''re not the only crazy person in the world, you know."

    "Got it," Gabriel says snappily, like a grateful footsoldier. "But wait," he says, then he approaches the old guy, their "special audience," who couldn''t stop smiling at them.

    "Thank you," Gabriel says.

    "Thank you for what, kid? I was just watching a movie scene unfold. It was the finest specimen of cinema I''ve ever seen in my life."

    Gabriel smiles; if this nice old guy insists he just watched a movie, then so be it. His heart, his head is too up in the clouds to argue. He''s just happy. "I don''t know how to thank you, but maybe this might suffice, somehow." He takes something from an inside ?h?st pocket of his Armani coat, which turns out to be a checkbook. Gabriel quickly writes something on it, tears away a check, and hands it to the old man. "Here."

    The old guy''s face lights up upon seeing the check. "You must be kidding!"

    "I''m not," Gabriel says. He smiles. "My name is Gabriel Tan, please look it up. This is my way of saying thank you for saving my life."

    Gabriel shakes his hand, but the old man is too stunned with the check he''s holding that he b?r?ly shakes it back.

    Gabriel runs back to Claire and takes the umbrella from her. He offers an arm, which Claire takes. "Let''s walk you home, Madam," he playfully says.

    "Oh, thank you, Sir," she says. "I thought we were going to stay and live forever in this one rainy spot. I''m glad we''d be finally moving on."

    "Well, that''s the plan. But you still haven''t said anything about what you feel¡­ How about¡­"

    Claire and Gabriel''s voices trail off, as the old guy watch them walk away. He still couldn''t believe what he''s holding. He looks at the check again in his hand. It is signed, and the amount written is a million bucks. He thought he was watching a scene from a romance movie, but it turns out, he''s the one who has a happy ending. A million fu?k?n? bucks. Is this real? So first things first to find that out, he tells himself. Where''s the nearest bank?

 Chapter 94 - The Insidious Sense of Coming Down with Something Really, Really, Really Bad

    By the time they reach the threshold of the Residence, Gabriel is quiet, as though he''s feeling weird. He knows he should be happy, even if Claire hasn''t given him any definite answer yet. Anyway, she wouldn''t let him walk with him arm in arm in the most romantic rain in the history of mankind if she doesn''t at least reciprocate his feelings. But still, there must be something in that cold rain that has struck him¡ªhe hadn''t been working out, he''s been under too much stress lately, and running like mad through that curtain of cold water must have been short of suicide. So by the they reach the Residence, Gabriel''s slightly shivering from the cold.

    "Are you all right?" Claire says, squeezing him in the arm.

    "Y-yes, I''m fine," he tries to smile. He takes a deep breath if only to hide his chattering teeth.

    "You''re soaking wet, Gabriel. First, you must change quickly into some dry comfy clothes. I''m sure we this place has something of your size. You own this entire building."

    He lets her take the lead to the elevator. Inside the lift, he''s tempted to pop the question again, but there''s something about Claire''s demeanor that says take it easy, relax, you don''t have to worry anymore.

    Claire stares at him. "You''re red in the face, Gabriel. How are you feeling?" Then she places a palm on his forehead before he could react. "You''re quite warm! Do you feel sick?"

    Of course, Gabriel, with all his macho persona, says, "I''m fine, Claire. I just want to see you off. Bring you to your suite."

    Claire gazes at him funny, as though she''s trying to fathom the truth of his words. With Gabriel, it''s always hard to know the truth; this man always places his ego above everything else. Claire sighs; if he insists he''s feeling fine, then so be it.

    They stop by the door of her suite. "Won''t you come in?" Claire says. "You need to change your clothes."

    Gabriel smiles. "No need for that. I''d just scoot back to my place. I''m calling up my ride."

    Gabriel''s eyes are bloodshot, and in this efficiently air conditioned room, his rain-soaked suit is causing him to shiver. "You''re not fine, Gab," she says, then she gently touches him in the neck, and on the forehead. "You feel warm."

    Gabriel gazes at her. "That''s right. I''m probably dying. Can you give a dying man his last wish?"

    She has an inkling of what he''d say, but even so she still asks, "And what would that be?"

    "A kiss."

    She tries hard to keep a straight face, forcing herself not to smile. "I haven''t said anything, Gabriel. I haven''t said yes. We''re not¡­we''re still¡­You''re still my boss."

    He sighs. "It''s only a kiss. After all, I walked you home."

    "So you''re asking for ''payment'' for walking me home, is that it?"

    "Alright, not payment. Scratch that. How about a semi-kiss, a semi-goodnight kiss. For starters?"

    "Starters for what?"

    "Starters for a long, happy life with me, Claire."

    Claire feels her heart flutter, but she doesn''t show it. She recalls how many times he''d kissed her, often in the pretense of being "part of her job as fake fianc¨¦e" and all that. But this particular kiss, this would be the real one, the first official one. And although she''s dying to give him this, Claire has doubts.

    "It''s only a kiss, Claire," he says.

    "Would you be sorely disappointed if you don''t get to kiss me tonight?"

    Gabriel looks into her eyes. "I would die. Not visibly, but inside. Like the song, you know. I''d be walking out of here as the saddest little person." He smiles. "Don''t you notice I''m getting cornier by the minute?"

    "Yes," she giggles. "All because of a kiss."

    Gabriel upraises his hands. "Okay, fine. If you don''t give me even a harmless goodnight kiss, you might regret it if I suddenly disappear and you''ll spend the rest of your life regretting not giving Gabriel Tan his last request."

    "Stop saying that, it''s bad juju," she says.

    "I''m just saying. But okay, I''ll go home. I have to prepare myself for some really big activity tonight."

    "You''re working at home? What activity tonight?"

    "I''ll just spend the whole night thinking about you," he says.

    That must have had an effect, because Claire stops and gazes at him. Then without warning, she throws her arms around Gabriel and kisses him, deeply, full of longing, like the kiss feels like a long-in-coming confession of her own feelings. And Gabriel responds, hungrily, desperately; like he''s been running all his life and only now he has found peace, delicious peace.

    When the kiss ends, Gabriel whispers, "Thank you, Claire."

    And she''s not sure, but Claire feels like it''s the very first time Gabriel Tan ever said those words. "Thank you."

    "And goodnight," he adds. He''s smiling now. He starts walking away toward to elevator lobby. Yet he turns back. "We have to be early tomorrow, Miss Monteverde. To battle the evil bitch." He grins. Then he''s gone.

    Claire stands there, her mind trying to unspool the events of the day and all their significance. Sometimes she feels like she''s in the middle of a wonderful dream, like now. Is this real? Is this happening? She touches her lips¡ªdid that kiss just happen? The first not-part-of-the-job kiss?

    As she closes the door, she feels¡­is "good" enough of a description? No. She feels delirious. She has a fever, but of the good kind. She tosses her things on the floor, slips off her heels, and runs b?r?foot to the bedroom, laughing like a little girl, singing the easy chorus of Dua Lipa''s "One Kiss."

    Meanwhile, as Gabriel''s Benz sedan eases into the foyer of the Residence, he''s already on fire; the delicious memory of the kiss and everything that happened this afternoon are being robbed of their sweetness by a raging, throbbing headache. He feels cold, like the air is full of ice, stabbing his flesh. The moment he slips into the passenger seat, he takes off his wet suit and shirt and orders the chauffeur to up the heater. He''s starting to feel weird, like he''s getting sick. He hasn''t been sick in years, and this is giving him a strange sensation. He would have stayed longer with Claire, he would have wanted to just be with her all night long, but he knew he''s running out of strength. Running through the ice-cold rain that afternoon has taken a big chunk out of him. The flu is his Achilles'' heel, having had weak lungs in his childhood. And as he feels the beginnings of a fever, his throat getting dry and itchy by the minute, he holds on to the memory of Claire smiling, Claire telling her to take it easy, because everything will be all right.

 Chapter 95 - The New Phone

    Claire wakes up early. Today is a big day. THE big day. Michelle''s coming, and they have to put on a unified front somehow. She''s supposed to play by ear how Michelle''s going to behave in the office, how the dynamics between her and Gabriel is going to play out. A lot of unknowns.

    She might not have even slept at all. Her mind played out the events of the day, how Gabriel did the unthinkable and confessed his feelings. It was a big risk, she appreciated that. She would have said yes right then and there, but there was something that prevented her¡ªshe wanted to be sure. She wanted to "test" if Gabriel really did know what he was doing, if Gabriel''s feelings were real, and not just him trying to turn her into some sort of a "rebound girl." She''d see how this would play out in the coming days, but even now Claire wonders if she could control herself.

    She got up early, had a little breakfast, accepted from Lucille her outfit for the day, courtesy of Miss Cassandra, and before she could proceed to her Jacuzzi session, she remembered her new iPhone. She hadn''t fully taken it out of the box yet, but it''s supposed to be ready to use, with all the numbers of key people in the company already saved in the phone''s memory. Gabriel, or the IT Department, really went out of their way to make it as foolproof as possible.

    This would be the first time Claire would be using such a phone. The last time she used one of these was during her first year in college some years ago. It was a cheap feature phone, the kind that only sent text messages. He liked that phone, despite its age and its severe limitations. But she was walking in an alley one night when a man robbed her, demanded her wallet and her gadgets. When the man saw the kind of phone she had, he almost laughed¡ªthe nerve!¡ªyet he still ran away with it, the goddamn ?sshole.

    And now, these new-fangled contraptions seem so shiny and sleek and complicated. She knows how to use these as she has seen how these work and she''s not completely clueless, but there''s still a learning curve. She takes out the iPhone from its carton sarcophagus, admiring its pristine screen and how premium it feels in her hand. One look at the screen and she "gets" the icon for text messages, or making a phone call. But there''s a lot of other icons on the screen that she''s clueless about. She glances at the wall clock and realizes she''s running out of time. She takes the phone with her, as she dips her n?k?d body in the Jacuzzi. She finds the icon for the camera, and is delighted when the few test shots she took look gorgeous. She takes a photo of the view in front of her¡ªthe skyline of a city that''s just starting to wake up¡ªand she couldn''t get over how the photo looks amazing on the phone''s screen.

    She examines the back of the phone and wonders about the alien-looking multiple cameras. "Jesus, these are the phones they make now?" she wonders. "Are these still made by humans?"

    She''s exploring the different features of the phone when suddenly it rings.

    "Good morning, beautiful," she hears a man''s hoarse voice so clearly.

    "Gabriel?"

    "Yeah," he says. He sounds like he''s still in bed.

    "Are you still in bed?" she says. "We''re supposed to be at the office earlier than usual, remember?"

    "Yeah," he says. "I can make it. Don''t worry."

    "So how are you? Are you feeling well?"

    "I feel amazing," he says, not really sounding amazing at all. "Thank you for last night''s kiss. I couldn''t forget it."

    Claire giggles. "You know we''ve kissed before, but this is the first time you''re thanking me."

    "I know," he says. "I just want to let you know how happy I am. Even if you haven''t actually said yes. I feel like I''ve already won something."

    This makes Claire''s heart aflutter, but she doesn''t say anything.

    "Has my brother called yet?"

    "Miguel?" Claire''s brow knits. "What about him? He hasn''t called. I don''t think he has any reason to."

    "Well, you know him. He tends to appear when you least expect it."

    "Don''t worry. I''ll manage his expectations if I do hear from him."

    "Does this mean we''re officially a couple?" Despite the ragged quality of Gabriel''s voice, his excitement still shows.

    "Oh, no," she says, "not yet, of course. Let me think about it, Gabriel. I want to make sure about things. But I''ll tell Miguel about your confession, and I''ll tell him...I''ll tell him I''d like to give you my time, to know you better."

    Gabriel smiles, a smile she doesn''t see. He''s not mistaken about Claire; she''s genuine. She knows what she wants, and she doesn''t let herself be swayed by her emotion. So unlike him, which is why he realizes how much he needs someone like Claire in his life.

    "Still, I''m happy," he says. "The happiest I''ve been for as long as I could remember." A pause. "Are you getting ready for work? Having breakfast?"

    "Well, ye¡ª" she hesitates. She doesn''t want to tell him she''s still far from being ready. So she says, "Yeah, I''m almost out the door."

    "Can we FaceTime for a bit?" he says. "Just to see you for a second."

    "What facetime?" she says.

    "You don''t know what FaceTime is? Just tap that icon that looks like a video camera or something. It''s just right there."

    Claire squints as she looks at the screen. "Oh, there." She taps the icon. The screen transforms into the FaceTime screen, and now she can see Gabriel''s face, so puffy and disheveled, yet his eyes seem so big and round, as though he has seen something shocking.

    And right under Gabriel''s face, is her face.

    "Claire," Gabriel says, "I think you''re not ready yet."

    "What?"

    Gabriel makes a face that conveys a multitude of emotions.

    In a mad moment, Claire is suddenly seized by a realization¡ªGabriel can also see her! And there, in all their glory, are her br??sts, accentuated with luxurious soap suds. And as she realizes that, she''s so surprised (and feeling utterly stupid altogether) that on reflex, she accidentally throws away the phone so hard that it flies straight into the adjacent concrete wall. The phone makes a pitying cracking sound, like a small glass thing that micro-explodes.

    "Oh, my God!" Claire huffs. "I think it''s broken!" She bolts up from the Jacuzzi, water splashing about in the room in her panic. She kneels on the floor and looks at the poor phone. Of course, it''s not only broken; it''s actually pulverized. The previously sleek screen is now a glass surface of spiderwebbed brokenness. She holds it up, like a scientist would hold a dead mouse specimen in a lab, and mutters, "Oh shit."

    Gabriel''s head throbs and he feels dizzy, but in his arrogance, he believed he can defeat this fever with an act of will¡ªhe''s been doing it since last night. But now nothing seems to be happening. He''s starting to feel that he''s officially sick, yet he called up Claire to see if the sight of her could make him well. But the result is mixed. FaceTime has been over but Gabriel is still staring at his phone for a long moment, uncertain whether to laugh or feel sorry for Claire. Of course, he''s seen it, Claire''s wonderful bosom, and now he''s a man in a cauldron of confusion. He''s been trying to take it easy, trying not to think too much of Claire ever since last night, but now it would be impossible¡ªthis laughable mistake only strongly reminded him of Claire''s extraordinary beauty. Jesus, he thinks, she''s clumsy and brainy and stunningly lovely all at the same time. How all these confusing qualities hopelessly draw him to her even deeper, he could never fathom.

    Today is a big day, he reminds himself, Claire''s image still etched in his head. But as he tries to stand up from the bed, the room spins; he takes one step forward, and it gets worse, the room spins even faster. And before he could tap a number on the phone to call up help, darkness wraps its thick, choking wings around him. Gabriel collapses on the floor, still clutching his phone, with no one around to give him help when he needs it most.

 Chapter 96 - The Terrible News

    Claire is standing in the middle of Gabriel''s office, wondering where he is. She gazes at the clock. It''s weird that he''s late. It was him who set their time of arrival, for a full pep talk regarding Michelle''s upcoming shitstorm. But now he''s not here, and she wonders why.

    She hears voices outside the office. People greeting someone cheerfully. Before she could move, the door opens. It''s Michelle, wearing a rather simple navy blue knit-sheath dress. Michelle smiles, and for a split-second, Claire is confused¡ªisn''t Michelle supposed to hate her? Then she quickly realizes she''s not Claire Monteverde in this context, but Bella, the trusty new executive ?ssistant.

    Michelle looks around the room. "Gab''s not in, yet?"

    "Uhh, yeah, I think so. He''s supposed to be here early. I¡­"

    "He didn''t leave a message? He didn''t call?"

    "He did¡ª" He did call me while I was in the Jacuzzi, is what Claire is about to say, but she catches her mouth on time. "He didn''t, actually."

    Michelle gazes at her. "Hmm. That''s odd. We''re supposed to have a longish meeting to discuss, uhh, not only boundaries¡ª" Michelle rolls her eyes conspiratorially, thinking Claire gets her and Claire sympathizes¡ª"and also ways for us to work together. I want my investment well taken care of, you see."

    "I know, Michelle," Claire says. "That''s why we''re supposed to come here early today."

    "Well, why didn''t you discuss it yesterday, or in the previous days?"

    Yeah, why didn''t they sit down and talked about it, Claire realizes only now. But should she tell Michelle now that yesterday, Gabriel ran through the rain just to tell her how much she means to him? Just for shits and giggles. "I''m not sure. I only take cues from Gabriel."

    Michelle sighs. "He has always been like that. Remember the last time I was here? How he threw things at me?" She rolls her eyes again, the second time in five minutes. "The temper. Can you imagine that? I wonder how you can stand him."

    "Well, he has his quirks," Claire says. "They say he''s eccentric like that. Once you get past that rough exterior, though, Gabriel''s good. Even better than some people I know."

    Michelle says nothing. She looks at Claire in a funny way. "If he''s not here, and you have nothing yet to do, how about a quick coffee?"

    Claire hesitates, but Michelle grabs her by the arm, as if she has known her for a long time. "Come on, just a little perk-me-up at the cafeteria. Don''t worry, if he comes in, I''ll make sure she won''t blame you for not being at your desk."

    How can you say no to an offer you cannot refuse? "Okay," Claire says, letting Michelle take the lead.

    Claire feels odd. She''s supposed to hate Michelle, this evil woman who''s supposedly so cunning she has managed to sneak past Gabriel''s defenses to become a partner in a business merger. Not to mention the cheating. But Michelle seems a very like-able person, much better than her former roommates.

    There''s not a lot of people in the employee dining room because of the hour. They take a table in a corner. Michelle looks around, as though trying to find a waiter. Claire wants to tell her this place is self-service, but she keeps hour mouth shut; let Michelle learn about it herself. Someone in a cook''s uniform passes bay. "Hi, you," Michelle says. "Can you give us two coffees?"

    The lineman gazes at Michelle as if worms crawled out of her mouth. "Ma''am?"

    "Two coffees, please," Michelle repeats. "Espresso. Oh, make mine double."

    The lineman stands there, uncertain, for a few embarrassing moments, until he realizes who Michelle is. "Right away, ma''am." He disappears into a door.

    "I think they don''t serve coffee here, Michelle," Claire whispers. "It''s self-service here."

    "Oh, they know me," Michelle says, rolling her eyes. "They''ll get it."

    Claire makes a smile of embarrassment; Michelle seems to be starting to show her true colors.

    "So," Michelle beams. "Gossip!"

    "I don''t know any," Claire says.

    Michelle leans toward her, like she''s about to divulge top-secret information. "Have you heard about the new fianc¨¦e? The blow-hard socialite wannabe, that Claire Whats-her-face?"

    Claire blushes; she fake-coughs. "I rarely see her, Michelle. Gabriel keeps his private life private."

    "Oh, but you''re his secretary! The root word for ''secretary'' is ''secret'', right? So what''s his secret?"

    Claire shrugs. "I''m sorry. I''m new to the job. But so far, Gabriel seems a wonderful boss."

    "Wait till you see him losing his temper. Serve him the wrong coffee, for instance."

    Claire couldn''t help but giggle, recalling how she once did just that. "Yeah, I know. He threw the cup at me!"

    "See? That''s your boss." Michelle makes a big shrug. The coffee arrives, but Michelle doesn''t even say thanks to the server. She takes a sip of the coffee and cringes. "Coffee''s awful. Remind me to never have coffee here again."

    "Well," Claire says, "I did warn you."

    "What else do you know, Miss Bella Xavier?" Michelle flashes a sly smile, gazing at her sideways, sizing her up. "I''m sure you''ve seen and heard a few things."

    Ever the polite girl, Claire smiles. Slowly, it dawns on her: Michelle wants to use her against Gabriel, convert her into a spy of sorts. You can''t reason with someone like this person, she thinks. It''s best if you just play along. "Not much," she finally says. "Except he''s been tormented by the merger. Gabriel feels he''s been betrayed." Emphasis on the last word.

    "I wonder why that is," Michelle says, her face deadpan. Like she''s the most innocent woman in the world. "Maybe some people around him are not who they seem to be. Can''t blame them, though. Gabriel often acts like he owns the whole world." She laughs dryly.

    "Well," Claire looks at her wristwatch. "Maybe Gabriel''s already in the office and looking for me. Shall we go back?"

    Michelle gazes at her for a moment before she stands up. "Let''s have lunch later. My treat."

    "If my boss doesn''t send me to some cross-city errand, then why not? It would be my p???sur?."

    "Great!"

    On the way back, Michelle decides to visit her own office first, while Claire goes straight to Gabriel''s office. She finds the door slightly open, but no one''s there. "I wonder where he is¡­"

    Back at her desk, she thinks of calling him up. But as she touches the phone, it rings loudly.

    "Miss Monteverde? This is Lopez, Mr. Tan''s butler," the voice says on the other end says, quaking as though Lopez has been running. "This is about Mr. Tan."

    "Oh, God, Lopez. Where''s Gabriel? Michelle''s here already. We''ve been waiting for him."

    "Something has happened, Miss Monteverde," Lopez mutters. "He, uhh¡­"

    "What do you mean? Where''s Gabriel?"

    "He''s in the hospital," the butler says, sounding as if he has aged by a thousand years. "He''s in the intensive care unit. I found him unconscious in his room. I don''t know. I called up his brother. Then I called you up. I don''t know what happened."

    In that instant, Claire feels as if she''s been ejected out of her own body, as she watches herself say nothing, too shocked to even mouth out a response. She looks at the phone in her hand, as though wondering if this is true, if she''s really right here right now, and that she''s really speaking to someone who''s telling her Gabriel Tan is severely ill. She could hear Lopez''s tinny voice, saying, "Hello? Miss Monteverde, are you still there? Hello?" But Claire, in a trance, quietly puts back the phone on its cradle. She looks around; everyone is busy working. It''s the first few hours of a full day of work. These people have no idea what just happened, where their leader is. Then without a word, she stands up and starts walking away. All she has in her head is a single idea: she''s going to the hospital. She won''t think of whether Gabriel is okay, if he''s alive, or what-not; she''ll just go to the hospital and not think of anything else. She will cross the bridge when she gets there. Just yesterday, the man she had secretly fallen in love with made a grand gesture of telling her what she means in his life. That was only yesterday. Now he''s in some hospital, probably fighting for his life. What a difference a day makes. And as the elevator''s doors slide open, Claire mutters a silent prayer, wishing that her worst fears wouldn''t come true.

 Chapter 97 - The Man in the Abyss

    Gabriel Tan''s people have worked long enough for him that sometimes, during emergencies like this, you no longer have to issue an order or tell them to do this and that. They already know. For instance, Claire''s service vehicle is already waiting for her in the foyer, the chauffeur opening the door as soon as she steps out of the building. Lopez must have called Dale, and Dale coordinated quickly, knowing Claire would immediately want to go to the hospital where Gabriel is.

    Michelle was in her office when Claire left; Claire didn''t bother to tell her because, after all, what for? But she let Mrs. Gomez the receptionist know. Mrs. Gomez blanched when she heard about it. "Jesus, what happened to him?" Mrs. Gomez says, then follows it quickly with a whispered, "Does this mean Gabriel Tan is human, after all?"

    Claire lets the comment pass. Mrs. Gomez has known Gabriel''s temper long enough to have grown jaded by it.

    "I''m sorry, Miss Claire," Dean, her chauffeur, says as he drives. "But I''m sure he''ll be fine."

    "Thank you," she says. Her mind is wracked by the worst images possible related to Gabriel. Her heart feels like it''s drowning. "Can you drive faster?"

    "I''m driving as fast as the legal limit in this city''s streets, Miss Claire. But don''t worry, we''ll be there in a few minutes. I''m not seeing heavy traffic anywhere."

    Claire looks out the window, at the towering structures that zip past them. It''s still early in the morning. Usually, at this hour, Gabriel would be in his office, enjoying his coffee and croissant, reading business news or having a conference with his people. Today, he''s somewhere in a sad room in some hospital in this city, oblivious to what''s happening in the world. She tries hard not to go there in that place where she thinks he''s gone and would never come back. There''s something about his butler''s words¡ª"found him unconscious in his room"¡ªthat just frightened her to the core of her being. It has never happened to her or to her loved ones, being found unconscious. She doesn''t know how that happens. She only understand the implications: if you''re found unconscious, something must be very, very wrong with you.

    "Here we are, Miss Claire." Dean''s voice jolts her out of her reverie.

    "Thanks, Dean. Don''t wait for me."

    "Won''t you come home later?"

    I''ll never leave this hospital as long as Gabriel''s here, is what she wants to say. "I''ll be fine."

    Dean looks at her uncertainly. He nods. "I will let Dale know, Miss Claire. He will know what to do."

    She smiles. She half-runs to the hospital''s reception, who tells her where Gabriel Tan is: Medical ICU Room 233.

    The hospital''s aircon blast is exceedingly icy, and the pervading smell of antiseptic doesn''t help, either. It only adds to her growing sense of impending doom. It''s a miracle she could still stand; Claire is so emotionally vulnerable like this that she has to hold on to her sense of duty just to remain functional.

    There''s a small waiting area outside each ICU room, where he finds Miguel fidgeting. His face lights up upon seeing her.

    "I came as soon as I heard," he says.

    "What happened?" Her voice is hoarse.

    "I''m not sure. The butler found him. He was supposed to have an early breakfast, and when he didn''t go out of his room, the butler checked on him. He found Gab on the floor, face-down, unconscious. He immediately called up the emergency hotline, which quickly sent an ambulance. The butler says it all happened within ten minutes, but he doesn''t know how long Gabriel had been lying there."

    "What time did the butler say he found Gab?"

    "A quarter to seven, I think."

    Claire makes a quick mental calculation. "Gabriel called me up at six. We had a little talk. Then we hung up at half past six." She sighs. "Then he hadn''t been lying unconscious for too long."

    "He called you up that early?" Miguel has his mind on the seemingly too-early phone call than on his brother''s welfare. "Why would he call you at that hour?"

    Claire gives him a quizzical look. "He reminded me of Michelle''s first day. We had a quick phone meeting." She doesn''t mention that FaceTime accident¡ªMiguel doesn''t need to know that.

    "I see," he mutters, gazing at her meaningfully.

    "Have you spoken to any doctor?" she says.

    "Not yet," he says. "I came ahead of you by only a few minutes."

    The ICU''s door has a small glass window. Claire peeks through it. Her heart almost breaks as she sees the figure on the bed, surrounded by a few nurses and a doctor. Gabriel has tubes attached to him, but thankfully, he is not intubated.

    After a while, the door opens and the doctor walks out. His eyes immediately seek them out.

    "Are you the next of kin?" The doctor says, removing his face mask.

    "I am," Miguel says. "How is he, Doc?"

    "Well," the doctor begins. "It''s hard to tell yet because we''re still waiting for the results of his tests. We did some blood work. We checked his vital signs. He''s fine, so far."

    "Is it serious?" Claire couldn''t help but ask.

    "We don''t know yet, but for now, his vital signs are fine. But he has a high fever that we''re managing with meds. We don''t know if he has an infection, but he has flu-like symptoms."

    "My brother is usually fit," Miguel says. "I don''t understand how flu could knock him out just like that."

    "That''s what we''re trying to look into," the doctor says. "He''s not fully unconscious. He woke up briefly when they brought him here. He only fell asleep from all the meds. Once the blood work results return, we''d know if he has an infection, which we''ll treat immediately. But right now, he''s no longer dehydrated, he''s getting IVs of medicines to manage his symptoms." The doctor smiles. "He''ll be fine."

    Claire, for the first time since she arrived here, breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank God!"

    Miguel glances at her. He turns to the doctor. "Thank you, Doc. If there is any update on his condition, we''ll be here."

    "Don''t worry," the doctor says. "Mr. Tan is one of this hospital''s major donors. We even named a hospital wing after him. We have our top people on him at all hours. See there? He always has a nurse beside him at all times."

    "Can we come in?" Claire says. "Can I hold his hand?"

    At that, Miguel''s brow knits as he throws Claire a glance. Hold Gabriel''s hand?

    "I wouldn''t advise that. We need to protect Gabriel from any possible further infection, as long as we don''t know his exact condition. But give us time. We''ll know soon. For now, I''d ask for your understanding. We don''t want to compromise Mr. Tan''s welfare, do we?"

    "Yes, Doc," Miguel says, still looking at Claire, trying to read her face.

    "All right," the doctor says. "Speak to you later."

    They both watch the doctor as he walks away. Then Miguel turns to her. "Can I ask you something, Claire?"

    Claire nods. "What is it?"

    He gazes at her. "It''s just that, I''m wondering. He''s just your boss, right?" A pause. "Why would you want to hold his hand?"

 Chapter 98 - The Long Wait

    "He''s very sick, Miguel," Claire says. "Whether he''s my boss or not, there''s nothing wrong if I want to hold his hand to make him somehow feel better."

    Miguel gazes at her. "Would you hold my hand if I were sick, too?"

    She hesitates. "I¡­I might. It depends. If you have a contagious disease, I might emigrate to another country just to avoid you."

    Miguel snickers. "Sense of humor. Now I see what he sees in you."

    "What do you mean?"

    "Nothing." Miguel sighs. "I think we''re sitting ducks here. Would you like to have coffee while we wait for the medical results?"

    "I''ve just had coffee," she says. "With Michelle."

    "Michelle?" His eyes go big. "She has set up at the office, right? She''s there now?"

    "Yeah," she says. "We were both waiting for him to show up. But then I got a phone call from Gabriel''s butler."

    "Does Michelle know what happened to him?"

    She shrugs. "I didn''t have a chance to tell her. I came here as soon as I learned."

    "So," he says. "Do we wait here all day while Gabriel''s in there?"

    "Go ahead, Miguel. If you need to be elsewhere, you can go. I''ll just stay here."

    Miguel stops. He looks at her and he sees she''s on the verge of tears. He shrugs and leaves quietly.

    Claire restlessly paces the waiting area, waiting for the doctor or anyone to return. She can see through the small glass window that a nurse is posted inside the ICU, and that somehow gives her some relief. But not much. As long as they don''t know what''s wrong with Gabriel, she cannot rest. She''s trembling with worry. Whether she admits it or not, what happened to Gabriel has made her realize how fragile happiness is¡ªone moment you''re in bliss, the next moment, everything can be taken away from you, just like that. She tries hard not to think of all the terrible possibilities, but her mind has no effective compartments, where different thoughts can be safely kept from each other to avoid scrambling into chaos.

    After a while, Miguel reappears with two paper cups of beverage. "Tea," he says. "To calm the nerves."

    Claire looks at the offered drink. She takes it. "Thank you," she mutters, but her voice is so hoarse it comes off as a groan.

    He sighs and gazes in the direction of Gabriel''s room. "I''m sure my brother will be fine. He''s tough as nails."

    She says nothing.

    "When we were kids, he also got very sick. He''d never tell me or my mother about what he felt. He told no one. He just stayed in his room wrapped in layers of blanket. One morning, as my Mom was about to go out to attend to our little store downtown, she saw Gabriel''s room was still closed and eerily quiet. Curious, she checked on him. She was shocked to find him burning with fever. I was in school that time. I learned about it only later. He almost died." Miguel smiles as he turns to her. "He almost died because he didn''t tell anyone how he was feeling. We later learned he had typhoid fever, that if we had failed in bringing him to the hospital, it was merely hours before Gabriel would have come to the point where it would be impossible to save him. My mother was furious and heartbroken and terrified at the same time."

    "Is that what happened this time?" she says.

    Miguel shrugs. "That''s very likely. Maybe Gabriel had been sick in the past many days. Maybe he was sick when we were at the amusement park, you know. That''s how he''d always been. It takes a lot of effort to convince him to open up. But the thing with the two of us brothers is we know each other''s intentions without actually saying it out loud." Miguel gazes at her. "For instance, I know he likes you."

    Claire''s heart jumps in her throat. She keeps her mouth shut. Is this the right time to tell Miguel of the real score between Gabriel and her? Maybe not.

    But Miguel pursues it. "Do you know that? Are you aware that he likes you?"

    He got sick because he likes me so much, is what Claire wants to say, with a pang of regret. Instead, she dodges the question. "He hired me to do a job for thirty days, Miguel. I''m his fake fianc¨¦e, his semi-pretend executive ?ssistant. I''m not sure if genuinely liking me is part of the job description."

    Miguel laughs. "You should play dodgeball, because you''re very good at dodging things."

    "I don''t know how to respond to that."

    "Well," he says. "I can''t blame you if you want to keep things strictly professional between you. My brother is a difficult person to be with. He has his deep passions. When you hurt him, he gets hurt deeply, perhaps even scarred. I''m the younger one, but to tell you the truth, I act more like his elder brother. I''m always trying to be on the look-out for his welfare. That''s why the first time I heard about his new fianc¨¦e¡ªwhich is you, supposedly¡ªI flew out here to check him out and see if he wasn''t being crazy or something."

    "He was really being crazy for hiring me," she says.

    "And you''re crazier because you agreed to this." He smiles.

    "I know. When I started, I thought this was only a job. I can endure a job. It was supposedly only a month. But now¡­"

    "But now¡­what?"

    But now I think I''ve fallen in love with him for real, Claire wants to say. But she keeps that to herself. "But now, I don''t know."

    Miguel sighs. He takes a sip of his cold beverage. "I wish I could be sick, too, so that I''d feel that you care about me."

    "Stop it," she says. "Not here, Miguel."

    "Just saying. Can''t blame a man for trying."

    "Aren''t you even worried that Gabriel might never recover?"

    He gazes at her. "I told you. I''ll never believe in a thousand years that something stupid like this flu or whatever this is, could defeat him. I know my brother. He will emerge from this stronger, and perhaps crazier, than ever. Oh, I couldn''t wait for more of his ideas on making women happy."

    "Really?"

    Miguel pauses. "You won''t believe it," he says. "But ten years ago, Michelle Alcantara was my girlfriend."

    It takes a full moment for Claire to realize what he just said. Her brow creases. "What did you say?"

    "Michelle. Gabriel''s evil ex. She used to be mine. But I love my brother so much that I¡­Well, how does one say this without sounding like an utter fool? I gave Michelle away. Because I thought it was a worthy sacrifice. But knowing what we know now, maybe it was the worst decision ever, made by yours truly."

    "Are you for real?" Claire says. "And did Gabriel know about your ''sacrifice'', as you describe it?"

    "Yeah, absolutely," Miguel says. "And he was¡ª"

    Miguel is cut mid-sentence as the doctor reappears bearing Gabriel''s medical results, his face grim. Claire doesn''t even speak; she just reads the doctor''s face intently, even before he begins reciting Gabriel''s medical condition.

 Chapter 99 - The Medical Situation

    The doctor goes straight into the ICU room; he acts as if he doesn''t see Miguel and Claire standing there. Claire can see through the small glass window that everyone is attending to Gabriel quickly. The doctor''s barking orders and administering drugs.

    "What''s happening?" Claire mutters.

    Miguel says, "Don''t worry. They''re doing everything they can. The doctor knows what he''s doing."

    Inside the ICU, the doctor spends a long time talking to the nurses and updating Gabriel''s charts. Three nurses are in attendance, including one that Claire knows is the head nurse¡ªClaire had gone to this same hospital months ago and spoke with the same head nurse.

    "See? Even the head nurse is personally attending to him," Miguel says, as if reading her mind. "The doctor is not taking any chances. And I''m telling you Gabriel is tough as nails. This would be nothing to him."

    If this were nothing, why did he even lose consciousness, is what Claire wants to scream. But she keeps her mouth shut. The last thing she needs is people losing control of their emotions. Not now.

    When the doctor finally comes out of the room, Claire almost pounces on him. "Doc, what happened to him?"

    The doctor gazes at them, in his hands some documents that seem to be printed-out results of Gabriel''s medical tests. He browses through them. "The big picture is that Gabriel''s fine," he says. "But there''s a little caveat."

    The expression on Miguel''s face says, Go on, don''t play the big suspense game on us.

    "Gabriel has an infection in his blood," the doctor says. "It''s possible that he had been having it for the past few days or so. Didn''t he feel under the weather lately? He should have come in for a check-up and lab tests. It shouldn''t have come to this point."

    Miguel shrugs. "We had no idea."

    "He seemed fine," Claire says. "There was not the smallest indication that he might be ill."

    "Are you sure?" the doctor says. "As his wife, you should have noticed the smallest of¡ª"

    --"I''m not his wife, Doc," Claire says sheepishly. "Not even his girlfriend."

    "Oh," the doctor mutters. "Then why¡ª"

    "She''s Gabriel''s executive secretary, Doc," Miguel jumps in, while giving Claire a strange look. "She''s only with Gabriel during office hours, so¡­"

    "I see," the doctor says, gazing at Claire. "Well, the fact is, Gabriel had severe blood infection. He had it in the past few days, and something happened to him that allowed the infection to go overboard. Was he under some great amount of stress, lately?"

    "Could running in the rain be a possible reason?" Claire regrets the question as soon as she says it.

    "What do you mean run in the rain?" Miguel says. "Yesterday, we had a brief rainstorm. Did he do it, then?"

    She hesitates. She says yes, it could lead to more questions from Miguel, who might eventually lead to the big confession. And honestly, she doesn''t feel like revealing these things right in this situation, not in front of this doctor. In the end, she just shrugs. "It''s possible that he did something yesterday that left him soaked up in the rain."

    Miguel stares at her questioningly.

    "Yes, it''s possible," the doctor says. "What happened to the patient is the bodily equivalent of a nuclear meltdown. His worsening infection found an opportunity to even go overboard when Gabriel''s body underwent an extraordinarily high level of acute stress."

    "So what are we doing now, in terms of treatment?" Miguel says.

    "We have administered a medical equivalent of ''shock and awe''. A big but safe dose of a certain antibiotic, as well as a host of other drugs to manage the symptoms. We''re watching his fever go down. If it doesn''t, certain medical protocols will kick in. If his fever goes down in the next twelve hours or so, then we can all take it a bit easy."

    "Is he still unconscious?" Claire says.

    "Oh, he would have been, but some of the drugs he''s on have strong sedative effects. So he''s basically asleep, which is a good thing." He turns to Miguel. "As you can see, your brother gets the best treatment possible here."

    Miguel nods his head. "Thank you for that."

    "So," the doctor says. "I''ll let you know of any further development, okay?"

    "Can I go in and talk to him?" Claire says.

    The doctor sighs. "I wouldn''t advise that, for now. I suggest strongly to let him sleep. Maybe tomorrow morning, let''s see. But for now, it wouldn''t be good. He''s still in a vulnerable place, as far as his body''s immune system is concerned."

    Claire says nothing; inside, she wants to collapse. All these mumbo-jumbo seems meaningless if Gabriel''s on that bed. There''s something about what the doctor says that makes her feel like there''s a lot more he isn''t saying. How serious is a blood infection? What if Gabriel doesn''t wake up anymore? That he stays in that state forever? Claire wants to cry. In fact, the more she tries hard to look fine, the more her face contorts into a sob.

    After the doctor leaves, Miguel says, "See? My brother''s fine. There''s nothing to worry about."

    Claire says nothing. She''s trying to contain her emotions. The scenes of the past few days flash in her head, and in all those scenes, she pictures Gabriel''s face, smiling at her¡ªoh, if she only knew. She would have said a resounding yes. She would have given Gabriel everything he wanted¡ªeverything! She would have opened all the doors that lead to the core of her being. She would have kissed him all night long. But now, Gabriel''s in that God-forsaken room with strangers, attached to tubes and drowning in drugs.

    Slowly, even as she holds back her emotion, a tear peeps out of an eye. Then she sniffles, which turns into a small sob, that grows bigger. Until, finally, she begins weeping.

    "Oh, my God," Miguel exclaims. "Claire? Stop it. Why are you crying? Gabriel''s fine! It''s not as if he''s actually dead!"

    Claire cries even more.

    Miguel panics. He rifles through his pockets and somehow finds a handkerchief. He gives it to Claire, who snatches it and blows her nose through it. She tries to give it back to him, but Miguel smiles. "It''s all yours, Claire."

    People passing by are looking at them, intrigued at the sight of a girl weeping loudly and so openly. "This can''t be happening," she sobs. "This can''t be¡­"

    A lady who is passing by stops in front of them, gazes at her and Miguel. She taps Miguel by a shoulder and mutters, "Please accept my condolences, mister."

    Miguel''s jaw drops. "No. I mean, thank you, but no one died."

    "Oh, sorry," the lady says. "I thought¡­" She moves on, confusion on her face.

    "Please stop it, Claire," Miguel says. "Stop crying. Gabriel''s fine, I promise you that."

    "Look," he says. "We''ve been here for hours. Let''s go and have a bite somewhere. Coffee, perhaps. Anything. Let''s just go."

    "No, I''ll stay here until he wakes up," she says, wiping the tears from her eyes. By now, Miguel''s handkerchief is completely soaked, but Miguel gazes at his handkerchief in Claire''s hand with envy and longing¡ªhow lucky Gabriel must be for a woman like this to cry over him?

    "Are you sure, Claire?" he says. "Because he might not wake up soon. He might not wake up tomorrow or the next day. He might not wake up for one whole week, a month."

    "Then I''ll stay here," Claire mutters, her voice broken, her eyes bloodshot with tears. "I''ll stay here until he wakes up. I''ll cry until I can''t cry anymore, but I''ll stay here and I''ll never leave him."

    Miguel says nothing; he gazes at her, his heart aching, his mind full of whys. Gabriel is in that room, deathly sick, but Miguel wants so much to be Gabriel right now, just so Claire would also cry over him like this; a woman so beautiful in her sadness.

 Chapter 100 - The Crying Lady

    Miguel gazes at her for a long time, saying nothing. Quietly, he leaves.

    Claire doesn''t even notice him; she''s so deep into her crying she was no longer aware of the world around her. She just lets go. She remembers how Gabriel saved him from Jake Magno, and she cries. She remembers the crazy pool party, how they talked in that sun-kissed room in his mansion in the countryside, and she cries. She has known Gabriel for only about a couple of weeks, but she already feels as if she has known him all his life. And the mere possibility of Gabriel being suddenly taken away from her¡ªthe smallest possibility¡ªand Claire feels like her world is caving in.

    She doesn''t realize she must have been crying for hours when a hand appears before her, bearing the gift of a Starbucks beverage. She looks up, and for a moment, in her blurry vision, she thinks it''s Gabriel, but it''s not¡ªit''s Miguel, whose resemblance to his brother may be too uncanny for comfort. Blink fast enough and you might mistake Miguel for his brother.

    "Drink this," Miguel says. "I know I can''t stop you if you want to bawl your eyes out, but at least don''t kill yourself."

    She mutters "Thank you" as she accepts the coffee. She sips it; the caffeine throbs in her head. Only then she realizes she must be famished.

    Miguel sits down beside her. "How is it?"

    "How do you mean?"

    "Has the doctor returned yet?"

    She shakes her head softly. "I''ve seen nothing."

    "You know what," he suddenly says. "Instead of crying here and being totally helpless, how about we do something crazy?"

    Her brow creases.

    "Let''s say ''fuck it'' and slip into that room. I''ll let you hold Gabriel''s hand as much as you want."

    "Are you serious?" Claire''s voice is hoarse, as though all the crying has scratched her throat dry. "What about his illness?"

    "They''ve administered antibiotics on him, right? That should make him fine. And we''ll be careful. For starters, wash your hands with alcohol."

    "But I don''t have¡ª" she begins to say, but she stops as Miguel produces a small bottle of alcohol from his pocket. The man offers it to her with a smile. "You''ve thought this through, haven''t you?"

    "Anything just to stop you from crying your lungs out," he says, with a sheepish grin. "You''re driving me crazy."

    She smiles. She pours almost half the contents of the alcohol bottle on her hands, thinking about what the doctor said about infection and all that stuff. She hands the alcohol back to Miguel. "You, too."

    "But I don''t intend to hold Gabriel''s hand. Why me, too?"

    "Still. Better safe than sorry."

    Reluctantly, Miguel takes the alcohol and does the same.

    She stands up and peers into the small glass window. "Would those nurses let us in?"

    Miguel stands beside her. "Let me take care of it." He opens the door; all the three nurses in the room gaze at him in shock.

    "Sorry, mister, but visitors are not allowed in here," protests the most senior-looking nurse. Each of the three wears a face mask.

    "I''m the patient''s brother, Miguel Tan. I own half this hospital. We just need to speak to my brother for a minute."

    The nurse glares at him for a moment. But when the name apparently sinks in, she backs down. "I will have to log this visit and tell the doctor about this," she says.

    "Sure, no problem," Miguel says.

    "He looks so fragile," Claire mutters, as she grasps Gabriel''s hand.

    The nurse glares at what she did, and furiously writes something on the chart.

    "Can we give them a few minutes of privacy, please?" Miguel says.

    "That''s impossible!" the head nurse says.

    "Just a few minutes, nurse, and I promise, I will give all three of you a hefty raise in your salaries."

    The nurse stops on her tracks. They all exchange a look. This guy seems serious, they must think. They''ve taken note of his name, as it sounds familiar. And it''s only a few minutes; surely, that would not kill the patient. And besides, the lady''s eyes are now so swollen from all the crying that they feel sorry for her.

    "Five minutes," the head nurse says, then she and her two companions leave.

    Miguel looks at Claire and sighs. He quietly slips out the room.

    Claire squeezes Gabriel''s hand gently, trying to reach out to him. But Gabriel is deep in drug-induced sleep. His hand feels so dry. "I''m sorry, Gab," she mutters, as tears again stream down her face. "I''m so sorry. I didn''t know. I had no idea. If only I¡­" She sobs even more.

    Claire is usually a level-headed girl. She had never invested too much emotion on any man, until now. But even as she weeps in that room, it dawns on her how terrified she is of losing him. They haven''t even fully started yet. All they had was the beginnings of what''s supposedly an unforgettable story. But now this. Is this even real? Is he even on this bed right now? Isn''t this just a nightmare, and any moment she would wake up from this?

    "Gab, wake up, please. I know you can hear me." She sniffles through the tears. "I promise, I won''t play coy, anymore. I''ll give you everything your heart d?s?r?s. Because the truth is, all of those are my d?s?r?s, too. I was just trying to hold it up. So please, give me a chance. Give us a chance. Please wake up. I won''t leave this place without you."

    Miguel stands by the door, just outside the room, but he hears everything she has said. He sighs. Sadness wraps its wings around his heart. How he envies his brother so much. Why does he always end up as the audience to his brother''s romantic story? Why couldn''t he have his own? Ten years ago, he gave Michelle Alcantara up for Gabriel, because he had thought it was for the best. Who knew Michelle would become this evil conniving bitch? This time, it seems to be happening again. He really likes Claire, he''s just trying to be all blas¨¦ about it. After all, who falls in love at first sight in this day and age? But it''s true¡ªhe really fell in love at first sight with Claire. She really is that rare gem, that one-of-a-kind woman that a good man has the good fortune to encounter only once in his lifetime. And that rare gem loves no one else but his brother. Despite all his bravado, Miguel feels like crying, too.

    Claire has soaked Gabriel''s hand with her tears. This is enough, she commands herself, but even as she does so, she grips his hand even tighter. Gabriel stirs, as if he''s starting to wake up. This sends a surge of excitement through Claire''s entire being. Is he waking up? Is he finally well? Is the worst over?

    Gabriel half-opens his eyes. He squints from the light.

    "Gab? It''s me. I''m right here," Claire mutters. "I''m just right here. Can you hear me?"

    Gabriel almost opens his eyes, but it stays not fully open, not fully close. Slowly, his face relaxes again. He seems to have receded back to his sleep.

    "What is this?" a voice suddenly booms right behind Claire.

    It''s the doctor, his face red with fury. "What are you trying to do?" He snaps at her. "Are you trying to kill the patient?"

 Chapter 101 - The Vigil

    The doctor is a picture of sheer horror as he glares at Claire''s hand holding Gabriel''s. "You don''t know what you''re doing. His condition could worsen. He''s not over the critical phase, yet." He looks around. "Where are the nurses?"

    "I asked them a favor, Doc," Miguel jumps in. "She must see him. Or else this entire hospital would be shuttered."

    "What?" The doctor''s eyes ping-pong from Claire to Miguel to Claire, unsure of how to take what the man just said. "What do you mean? Who is she, anyway? And what does my hospital have to do with your recklessness?"

    "You may not yet know it, but we own this hospital," Miguel says, his face serious. "And if something bad happens to Gabriel and he doesn''t get a chance to be with her, even for a few minutes, then we will be very upset. That''s why I had to send the nurses away, just to give them some privacy. Only for a few minutes."

    "But you don''t understand¡ª"

    --"I understand perfectly well, Doc. Don''t worry. We had precautions. I''m sure my brother is going to be fine." He turns to Claire. "Have you told him what needed to be said?"

    Claire quietly nods.

    "Let''s go," he says. He takes Claire gently by an arm, leading her out of the room. "See you later, Doc."

    The doctor''s mouth stays open. He looks at Gabriel on the bed, he gazes at the clock, then he runs outside, calling out for the nurses.

    Outside, in the waiting area, which would have been relaxing as the glass wall offers a view of the hospital''s garden, Miguel seats her down. Claire seems calmer now, although her eyes are still swollen.

    "How are you?" he says.

    "He almost woke up," she says. "He stirred."

    Miguel sighs. "He''ll be fine."

    "Are you really one of the owners of this hospital?" she says.

    Miguel laughs. "Not really. But I have connections, you know. I mean, Gabriel and I have connections. So¡­"

    She says nothing. She looks like she could use some rest. Miguel gazes at her, noting how the light defines the contours of her face. How he loves looking at that face. If only she knew.

    "How about you and I get some rest? We''ve been here hours. Gabriel isn''t going anywhere."

    "Go ahead," she says. "Don''t mind me. I''ll just stay here."

    "Claire," he says. "Gabriel wouldn''t like it if he''d later learn how you spent long hours here being stressed out. You could get sick, too. This isn''t good. And besides, Gabriel already has a battalion of deeply invested nurses guarding him."

    "I don''t care," she says. "I want him to see me the moment he wakes up. I want to hear his voice. I want to be there when he opens his eyes."

    This woman is really serious, Miguel thinks as he gazes at her. Has Gabriel put her under some love spell?

    "Leave me," she says.

    "Are you staying here for the whole night?"

    She nods.

    "Are you serious, Claire? You can''t lie down here. Your clothes are too dressy for comfort. I''m also not too sure about the mosquito situation. This might be torture."

    "I don''t care."

    She''s nuts, he thinks. "Did you know they turn off the lights in this hallway at night? It''s going to be dark. You''d be all alone here. There might be, you know, ghosts¡­"

    "Ha ha. Try harder than that. I''m not a child you can scare away with ghost stories, Miguel."

    "Well, at least that made you smile a little."

    She stops smiling and throws him a look. "I''m not leaving. I''ll stay here. I''ll wait for Gab to wake up."

    "Okay," he says. "Then I''m not leaving, too."

    "What? You should go."

    "Why should I? This is my brother we''re talking about. I should be here more than you."

    "Half a minute ago you were so keen on leaving."

    Miguel grins. "Hah! I was just testing you." He plants himself in the seat right beside her. This girl is so stubborn, he realizes. He doesn''t have the heart to leave her here. Who knows what might happen? The hospital staff might say things that cause her to panic even more. He wants to be here to protect her, or at least manage her expectations.

    And because he couldn''t leave, anyway, Miguel busies himself with attending to her needs. He''d make a few trips to the vending machine down the hallway, or at the Starbucks on the ground floor. As day turns to night, he calls up a restaurant he knows and orders food. They share a tray full of ?ssorted sushi and a pitcher of warm tea, which came with an actual waiter who stood by as they ate. It''s the least Miguel could do to cheer her up, and somehow, it works; for a moment, Claire is laughing at his jokes, even at the corny ones.

    Much later, a different doctor arrives and speaks to them. "I have better news about our dear patient," he says. "His fever seems to have subsided, and although he''s still asleep, I''m confident he will wake up tomorrow morning."

    "What time would it be?" Claire says.

    The doctor laughs. "Sorry, that we cannot know for certain. It would be all up to him."

    "So you mean my brother is out of the woods?" Miguel says. "No danger that this could suddenly turn to something worse?"

    Claire shoots him a look.

    The doctor shrugs. "I surely hope so. All indications point to his full recovery." He smiles. "I''ll let you know when the patient wakes up."

    "Gabriel is waking up," Claire says after the doctor left. She smiles.

    "Then we can go now. Let''s get you some good old-fashioned beauty rest."

    "Are you kidding me? Why would we go? He could wake up any time now. He''d look for us."

    He''d only look for you, Miguel thinks. "Why don''t we come back tomorrow morning after he''s completely woken up? You can''t stay all night long here."

    Claire sighs. "How many times do I have to tell you I''m not leaving this place without him?"

    "All right," he says. He glances at his wristwatch. "It shouldn''t take long. Don''t worry, I''ll wait with you."

    They sit and wait. The hours tick by. Their conversation soon tapers into silence. By the wee hours of the morning, Claire is nodding off, trying to fight off the encroaching sleep. Yet, she soldiers on.

    "I just feel dizzy," she mutters. "Like the room is spinning."

    "It''s because you''re not used to this, sitting through the night and not sleeping," he says. He starts telling her about how he suffers from insomnia, that this situation is normal for him, and how, in an old hotel in Switzerland, he would spend nights in the balcony, watching the night sky. Miguel has been talking for minutes before he realizes Claire has fallen asleep on his shoulder. Then he stops talking. He feels the shape of her head, the scent of her hair, on his shoulder. Carefully, he rearranges her to have a more comfortable angle. He removes his jacket and uses it to cover her body snugly. He gazes at her face. He remembers those nights he spent in Switzerland gazing at the heavens; because this feels like the same thing. He feels like he''s gazing at heaven, so beautiful and so heartbreakingly unattainable.

 Chapter 102 - The Impossible Burden

    As Claire sleeps, Miguel takes out his phone and dials a number.

    "Jean, please call up this hospital and ask if they have an available room where a guest can safely sleep."

    "Yes, sir, give me a sec," Jean says. She has been Miguel''s personal ?ssistant for years. "Let me trace my contacts and call you."

    "Sure," Miguel says and hangs up.

    He paces the waiting area, now darkened as the hospital turned off the lights in the hallway. The only light they get is what streams out of the little glass windows of the ICU rooms. And this he cannot accept; Claire sitting it out here depresses him. She deserves a lot better. He''s trying to decide whether to bring Claire back to her place, or find an available room in this hospital where she can sleep.

    He stops by Gabriel''s room and peers through the window. His brother is still peacefully asleep. Miguel is not worried, not at all. It would take a lot more than this to put a member of his family out of commission. Gabriel will be fine, he''s sure of that. He feels it. Call it a brotherly sixth sense. But you can''t say that to Claire; she follows her own feelings, and he cannot say her feelings are not valid. If she''s worried, then so be it. The only thing he can do now is to ensure her comfort.

    The phone vibrates in his pocket. It''s Jean.

    "Sir," she says, "I''m sorry, but it seems we''re in the middle of flu season. Even the extra rooms usually reserved for guests of patients are occupied, with a waiting list. I can have a room vacated by ejecting some of the guests, but I will have to use your family''s influence to do that. Half the board members of the hospital are friends of Mrs. Tan, and they can make this happen." A pause. "Shall I go ahead and do it, sir?"

    Miguel thinks about it. He looks at Claire, who is sound asleep on a steel chair. If he says yes, some unknown family will be thrown out of the hospital in the middle of the night. Perhaps they''re here to be with a seriously sick loved one. Does he have the heart to do that? Sometimes, these choices, thanks to his family''s invisible power, seduce him to make heartless decisions, and he has always balked at that. They had come from nothing; he can still remember a childhood when they had nothing but scraps to eat. Their rise from rags to riches is one for the books, yet despite the heights of financial success they have achieved, Miguel has held on to his own sense of integrity. Maybe his only flaw is he tends to fall in love too easily.

    He sighs. "Never mind, Jean. Let it be."

    "Are you sure, sir? All it takes is one easy phone call."

    "No, don''t do that. We don''t do that to people," he says. "Good night and thank you."

    "You''re welcome, sir. Just call me if you need me."

    "Sure."

    He hangs up before Jean could say anything else. That last line, "just call me if you need me," drips with double-meaning. Jean has worked for him for a long time, and he has noticed the double meaning in her words, the s?xu?? innuendos, the unspoken invitation to "play" with her. Sometimes, he''s asked himself, why not? Jean''s not bad-looking; she has killer curves and those legs can go all the way to heaven. But Miguel never forgets what his brother, Gabriel, has always told him: "Never throw dirt in your own backyard." So he tries his best never to return whatever Jean feels for him.

    Miguel stands there thinking for a moment. Then he approaches Claire, making quick mental calculations. From here to the elevator lobby, then down to the parking area, would take about ten minutes, tops. He can borrow a wheelchair to wheel her out without having to wake her up, but that would be so ungentlemanly. He looks at her and figures out maybe he can easily carry her in his arms. If she wakes up, then that''s good, too. But one thing he can''t allow to happen is Claire spending the night here; she should be sleeping in the comfort of her own bed. And even as he thinks this, a mosquito bites him in the neck; he slaps it hard. Fuck it, we''re leaving.

    Miguel stoops down and carefully snuggles Claire in his arms, letting her head rest on his ?h?st. He expects her to wake up at any moment, but she seems so deep in her slumber. He ambles toward the elevator lobby, and asks the nurse who is standing there to press the bu??on for the basement parking area. The nurse gives him an odd look.

    "She''s my sister," he says. "Had too much to drink."

    "Oh, sorry," the nurse says, then presses the bu??on. The doors immediately slide open. As Miguel steps in, the nurse stays standing outside, seemingly coming to a realization. "Wait, what drink? This isn''t a bar, where did you¡ª"

    Miguel smiles at her as the doors close. He looks down at the girl in his arms. "Maybe the nurse is thinking I''m going to do something evil to you, my princess. She has no idea how much I worship the ground you tread on."

    Good thing he had brought the Alphard when he came to the hospital. Usually it would be a BMW sedan, or his favorite Aston Martin. But he had an inkling he would need some extra legroom, and he''s quietly congratulating himself for having the good sense to bring the luxury minivan. Now Claire is comfortably ensconced in the passenger seat. Miguel had so carefully carried her in his arms that she didn''t even budge.

    The Residence, Claire''s place, is just a few blocks away. Of course, he knows it was Gabriel who "installed" Claire in what used to be a luxury boutique hotel. Miguel knew all about these details in the few days of his arrival in the country, but he keeps his mouth shut. These are his brother''s business decisions, and he has no right to interfere.

    Dale''s eyes go wide as Miguel enters the lobby with Claire still asleep in his arms.

    "Oh, my God! What happened to Miss Claire?"

    Miguel shushes him and whispers, "Help me bring her to her suite. Is the place clean?"

    "It''s always clean, sir," Dale says as he lets them step inside the lift.

    As they ascend, Dale couldn''t help but ask, "Is Sir Gabriel fine, sir?"

    "He''s fine, Dale, thanks for asking."

    "But what happened to Miss Claire?"

    Claire stirs in Miguel''s arms. The two men expect her to wake up and scream her lungs out upon finding them in this situation, but she only mumbles something and giggles.

    "She''s having a good dream," Dale says, smiling.

    "Yes," Miguel says, sadness in his voice. "She dreams of his prince."

    Dale gives him an odd look, but he says nothing.

    They go straight to the bedroom. Miguel carefully places her on the bed, under the comfy duvet. Miraculously, she stays asleep. "Must have been extremely tired," Miguel says, gazing at her. He turns to Dale. "Please alert the house staff of anything she might need when she wakes up. Have some food ready. Let Lucille stay in this suite."

    "Yes, sir," Dale says snappily, then he''s gone.

    Miguel gazes longingly at Claire as she sleeps. It would have been a world of difference if Claire was in love with him, not with Gabriel. His life would be, finally, complete. His search would have ended. Yet here, in this room with the girl of his dreams, Miguel''s heart aches, realizing this would be the closest he''d ever get to her in this lifetime. After this, he would have to keep his distance, all for the sake of his brother''s own feelings. "And in that sleep, what dreams may come," he mutters, quoting Shakespeare. Then he stands up and leaves, thinking of the lonely night awaiting him at the hospital.

 Chapter 103 - The Redivivus

    As Miguel drives back to the hospital after bringing Claire home safely, Michelle Alcantara is still in her new office in the TXCI Tower, overseeing the furniture and all that. She''s having a minor crisis with a large painting¡ªit has a sentimental value to her so she had it brought here, only to find out that it''s too big for any wall in her office. She fumes¡ªGabriel must have planned this, she thinks, so convinced in her imagined oppression. She''s about to tear the painting off the wall when she hears knocks on the door.

    It''s Mrs. Gomez, Gabriel''s loyal receptionist. Instantly, Michelle''s face shifts to one of fake delight.

    "Have you heard about the news?" Mrs. Gomez steps inside the office, looking around. "Oh, you''re still fixing it up. Aren''t the people from Facilities the ones in charge of finishing this office?"

    "They were. I sent them home," Michelle says, a hand on her h?ps. "I wanted to be fully hands-on, but I guess I have to recall them back tomorrow. Look at this wall¡ªit''s too small. My art work could not fit in here."

    Mrs. Gomez scoffs. "Michelle, everything is too small for you, even the entire world."

    Michelle throws the woman a look. They have known each other for years. Mrs. Gomez has been Gabriel''s receptionist and sort-of girl Friday for as long as anyone could remember, and she doesn''t put up with bullshit. Mrs. Gomez has always called her simply by her name, perhaps to insist on putting her in her place, even if she''s now co-partner in this new company. And if there''s anyone here Michelle could never threaten, it''s this old biddy¡ªGabriel loves Mrs. Gomez, despite their often love-hate relationship.

    "You mention some news," Michelle says. "I''ve been cooped up here in the past many hours. I haven''t seen Gabriel or his new ?ssistant. We''re supposed to discuss a few things."

    "That''s the news," Mrs. Gomez says. "Gabriel is in the ICU."

    Michelle stares at her with that puzzled look. "ICU? What''s that?"

    Mrs. Gomez rolls her eyes. "Intensive care unit. The nearest hospital. Gabriel''s very sick, Michelle. I''m going to visit tomorrow, see how he''s doing."

    "What?" The look of shock on Michelle''s face is genuine. "Why didn''t anyone tell me? When was this? How''s he doing? And why not go and visit him now? We can go together."

    "Maybe because you were busy? Cla¡ªI mean, Bella rushed to the hospital as soon as Gabriel''s people called her up this morning. She''s been there ever since, I gather."

    Michelle paces the floor nervously. "No, we should go there tonight. Oh, my God. My Gabriel¡­"

    "My Gabriel?" Mrs. Gomez thinks, wondering what illegal drugs Michelle was on. Last she heard, the Gabriel-Michelle tandem has long joined the fate of the dinosaurs. "I can''t go tonight, even if I wanted to."

    "Why not? Let''s go together in my car. It''s the nearest hospital, right? The one a few blocks from here?"

    "I can''t go tonight. No one else is going to babysit my newest granddaughter. Her parents are going to be on a date night. They''d be disappointed, furious even, if grandnanna doesn''t show up. I''ll go visit Gabriel first thing tomorrow morning."

    "Jesus," Michelle mutters. "If he''s in the ICU, then it must be really serious," she says, grabbing her bag. "I''m going. I hope I''m not too late."

    "I''m not worried, Michelle," she hears Mrs. Gomez say behind her. "Gabriel Tan is un-die-able!"

    As Michelle zips past the city''s legal speed limit just to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, she begins to realize her own emotional response. Why is she so worried, anyway? What can she gain from this? Have you forgotten how Gabriel threw furniture at you the last time you met? Yet, Michelle brushes off these questions¡ªtruth be told, she''s still hoping Gabriel could see the light and forgive her. She did spend the past few years cheating on him¡ªshe didn''t think Gabriel would have the heart to leave her even if he found out. She thought Gabriel''s love for her was bottomless, regardless of how badly she''d treat him. But as it turned out, the man did reach the end of his rope. And now, there seems to be nothing she could do to regain back his affection. But perhaps Gabriel falling ill could present some opportunity.

    She finds Miguel in the waiting area right outside Gabriel''s ICU room, sleeping as he sits in the cold metal chair.

    "Miguel?" she whispers. "Miguel?"

    He''s just half-asleep, and when he hears that female voice, his heart jumps; he thinks it''s Claire, for some silly reason. He opens his eyes and is never more disappointed in his life when he sees who it is. "Michelle? What brings you here?"

    "I''m sorry, but I just learned about what happened to Gabriel. How is he?"

    "Oh, he''s fine. But if you want his condition to worsen, go ahead and enter that room."

    Michelle pouts. "Come on, Miguel, you, too? Can''t we have a civil conversation, like the old times?"

    Miguel says nothing. He just looks at her with that face devoid of expression.

    "Tell me, please. Is Gabriel in danger?"

    He sighs. "Officially, yes, according to the doctor. But personally, based on what I know about him, I don''t think my brother is in danger. This is just a passing thing."

    "Are you serious? Why is he in the ICU if this is just some normal illness?"

    "That''s how we roll, Michelle, don''t you remember? A simple flu and we immediately roll out the big guns."

    "Be serious."

    He shrugs. "I am serious."

    "Is he here, in this room?"

    "Yeah," he says. "But visitors are not allowed. I suggest you go home and get some sleep, Michelle. It would be a better way to spend your time."

    "Why are you being so mean to me? We used to be close, Miguel."

    He upraises his two hands. "Look, I don''t have the heart to walk down memory lane with you right now, Michelle. I''m just saying, I''m here to take care of my brother. We don''t need anyone else."

    Michelle looks around. "So where''s Bella, his ?ssistant? I heard she''s been here since morning."

    "Oh, her? She only checked on him briefly then went home. She had no business here."

    Michelle sighs. She slumps on the metal chair beside him. "Then I''ll wait with you here. I''ll wait till he wakes up."

    Jesus Christ, you, too? Miguel thinks, recalling how Claire just a few hours earlier would say almost the same exact lines. What is it with these women in Gabriel''s life? How does my crazy brother command such loyalty? Well, not really applicable to Michelle because she cheated on him, but still.

    "You''re going to wait a very long time, Michelle," he says.

    "I don''t care. We were supposed to meet this morning. He never showed up. If he''s not at the office, then I don''t have any business there. So I''d better wait for him here."

    "Do you intend to discuss business with him here? You can give him an actual heart attack."

    "I''m not discussing business! I just want to see him wake up."

    What''s the big deal about Gabriel waking up, Miguel thinks as he gazes at Michelle, who in all fairness is still a striking beauty¡ªafter all, it was Michelle and him who first used to date, before Gabriel came into the picture.

    "I''m telling you, Michelle, Gabriel isn''t waking up in the next few days," Miguel says.

    As if on cue, the door to the ICU opens with a creaking sound. Out comes one of the nurses, who smiles upon seeking them.

    "Mr. Miguel Tan?" she says, smiling. "Your brother is looking for you. He has just woken up."

 Chapter 104 - The Revelation

    "Your brother has just opened his eyes. He mentioned the name ''Claire''. Is she here?" The nurse couldn''t hide the excitement in her voice.

    Miguel glances at Michelle before answering. "She''s not here. I''ll let her know. But let me speak to my brother first."

    "Oh, my God," Michelle exclaims, and runs into the ICU before Miguel could say anything further.

    Color has returned to Gabriel''s cheeks. He''s trying to sit up just as Michelle appears in the room.

    "What are you doing here?"

    "I drove here as soon as I learned," Michelle says, on the verge of tears. "How are you?"

    Gabriel stares at her; he doesn''t want Michelle, his "enemy," to know anything about this. He''s still at a loss about why he''s in here. The last thing he remembers is his own room, morning, after he spoke with Claire on the phone. He vividly remembers it because Claire, still clumsy with her new phone, didn''t realize she was on a video-call with him while soaked in the Jacuzzi. He saw her br??sts, sure, but he would not admit it if pressed just to protect Claire''s fragile sensibilities. That was it. Next thing he knew, he opened his eyes and he''s in this strange room, with strange people. Worse, the first "familiar" person he sees is Michelle. This can''t be good.

    "I guess the person who should be asking questions is me," he says. "Why am I here?"

    "You don''t know?" she goes to him and holds his hand. "You were very sick, Gab. They rushed you to this hospital when your people found you unconscious in your room."

    "You had severe infection," the doctor says, who had been standing by the side and wondering who this woman is. "But you''ve gone over the most difficult part. You''ll be fine."

    Michelle glances at the doctor, as if telling him to shut up, then turns back to Gabriel with that sweet smile. "I had been waiting for you to wake up, Gab. I''ve been crying all night."

    "Really?"

    "Yes," she says, as she squeezes Gabriel''s hand. "I''d die if something bad happens to you."

    Gabriel gazes at her, than stares at his hand being held and squeezed by her, as though they were still together, like nothing happened. A few weeks ago, he would be thrilled, fascinated even. But now, this close with the woman he used to love for years, Gabriel is baffled because he feels nothing. Nothing for her. No familiar feelings. Worse, he doesn''t even hate her. He has stopped hating her, he realizes now, without him even knowing it.

    Awkwardly, Gabriel pulls away from her grasp. "Thank you, Michelle, but I''m fine. You can go home now."

    "I''ll drive you home," she says, almost pleading.

    "No, thank you, I can manage."

    "You can''t yet go out, Mr. Tan," the doctor interjects. "You still need to finish the course of antibiotics. You still need to rest."

    "Then I will stay here by your side as long as needed," Michelle says.

    Gabriel secretly recoils from the idea of spending hours with Michelle. "No, thank you, Michelle. You can go. Please."

    "But¡ª"

    "She will be fine, Michelle," Miguel says, who has just entered the room. He heard everything Michelle had said, including the lies. "Let''s follow the doctor''s advice and give him time to heal¡­alone." He turns to the doctor. "Right, Doc?"

    "Uhh," the doctor stammers, trying to read Miguel''s face for the correct response. His eyes ping-pong between Michelle and him. Then he gets it. "Yes, yes, he needs to be completely alone. He has just been through the most grueling period of his sickness. He''s still totally not out of the woods, yet."

    "But¡ª"

    "No ''buts'', please, Michelle. This is critical." He turns to the doctor. "If you may, please, Doc, please accompany her to the nearest exit."

    "Well, yes, it would be my p???sur?," the doctor says, gazing closely at Miguel''s face for any hint he''s doing the right thing. When Miguel winks, he''s finally sure. "Let''s not get in the way of the patient''s full recuperation, Miss. Let me bring you to the¡­"

    "Alright!" Michelle snaps. "No need to have me escorted out of the building. I''ll go out on my own."

    Miguel tries his best to keep a straight face. "Thank you for your understanding, Michelle."

    Michelle scowls at him. Without a word, she stomps out of the room. The doctor follows her.

    Gabriel sighs. "What happened, man?"

    "You just got a reminder that you''re still human, Gabriel."

    "Yeah, I guess so," he mutters. He looks at his brother meaningfully, as though there''s something he wants to say.

    Miguel reads it on his face. "Bella Xavier, your secretary, was here," he says, quietly. "She was here for hours."

    "And?"

    "She cried her eyes out for hours, thinking you would die." Miguel clucks his tongue. "Poor girl. I didn''t know she has such dedicated to her boss. I should find myself a secretary like that."

    "Oh," Gabriel mutters. He gazes at his brother, hesitating.

    But again, Miguel "reads" it in his brother''s eyes. "I know, Gab. You don''t have to explain. I know everything."

    Gabriel says nothing. He makes a big sigh of relief. "Thank you. But you know that I don''t have to explain anything to you regarding my personal decisions."

    "Yeah, I know," Miguel says. "It''s just that, to be honest, I envy you. I''ve seen how much this girl cares about you. You''re goddamn lucky."

    "I know. I can''t believe how lucky I am, either," Gabriel says. "Where is she?"

    "I brought her back to her place," he says. "She passed out. She must have been so exhausted from all that waiting and the crying. Don''t worry, I respected her. I had Dale manage all her needs when I left to return here."

    Gabriel gazes at him. "Thank you, man. I owe you a lot for this."

    "That''s nothing. That''s why I''m here. To take care of the needs of my ''elderly'' brother."

    "Asshole," Gabriel says. They both laugh. "What time is it now?"

    Miguel looks at his wristwatch. "It''s about two in the morning. Too early. You should sleep some more. Regain your strength."

    "I have done enough sleeping for a lifetime," Gabriel says. He pulls out the IV tubes stuck to his arm, and bolts up from the bed.

    "Hey, what are you doing?" Miguel says in panic. "You would hurt yourself!"

    "I''m going to be fine, brother. Help me get off this damn bed."

    Gabriel swings his feet over to the side of the bed and tries to stand up. At first he''s still dizzy, but he holds onto Miguel as he regain his bearings. "I''m going to surprise Claire," he says, tapping Miguel on the shoulder.

    "What? You can''t be serious. You''re not fully well, yet."

    "We don''t die easily, remember?" Gabriel smiles. "I''ll take a quick drive, enjoy some night air, and maybe give the woman of my dreams the surprise of her life. She has done enough crying. I can''t let her cry anymore."

    Miguel gazes at him. "But you''ll have to sign some waiver and¡­"

    Gabriel waves him off. "Take care of all the paperwork, please? We own this hospital, anyway."

    "We do?" The information surprises even Miguel; he was only bluffing to the nurses earlier. Turns out he wasn''t joking at all.

    "Bought it a few months back," Gabriel says. "Now, let me sally forth and conquer. Where''s your car?"

    "Third level, basement," Miguel says as he tosses the car keys to him. "Elevator lobby''s to the right. I brought my Aston Martin, Gab. Would get you there quickly."

    Gabriel stops and turns back to him. "Thanks, man. How about you?"

    "I''ll call up Jean and have her send me your butler," Miguel says, smiling. "Fair exchange?"

    "Sure," Gabriel says. "Thanks, man." Then he ambles out of the door.

    Miguel is left standing there in the ICU, alone with the empty bed and medical monitors. He smiles to himself and shakes his head. He runs a hand on the bed that Gabriel had vacated, testing the mattress''s softness with his palm. He nods. He eases himself into the bed. He realizes he''s so tired, too, as soon as his back kisses the bed. Yet, he wonders which has exhausted him more: the utter loneliness of his life, or this whole principle of giving Gabriel everything he needs and wants, even at the expense of his own comfort and happiness. But as soon as he closes his eyes, he starts dreaming. He sees Claire in his mind''s eye, just standing there smiling at him, telling him everything will be all right.

 Chapter 105 - The Surprise

    It''s just a short drive, but it takes Gabriel an enormous amount of will just to reach the Residence. His focus keeps straying from the road; if he''s not careful, he might end up smashed against some truck. He slaps himself in the face a few times; it''s not the usual sleepiness, but the drugs still in his blood, and maybe the remnants of his illness. He would have spent a couple of nights more at the hospital, but he couldn''t stand it. He must see Claire.

    Dale is so surprised upon seeing him.

    "Uhh, Gabriel sir, is it really you?" Dale says. He even lightly touches Gabriel on the face.

    "Of course, it''s me," Gabriel says.

    "But sir, what seems to be the hurry?" Dale points at Gabriel''s clothes. "You''re still wearing hospital clothes, sir. And it''s still a few hours before sunrise." He hesitates, considering the intensity of Gabriel''s facial expression as he saunters into the lobby. "Are you sure you''re okay?"

    "I can''t be more sure, Dale," Gabriel says, heading straight to the elevator. "I am totally fine."

    Dale stares at him as he walks away, noting, in mild shock, that his big boss is also b?r?foot.

    Gabriel presses the elevator bu??on with the heel of his palm. He has yet to fully regain his fine motor skills. He feels he''s moving underwater, his arms and feet heavy, his vision as though peering into a tunnel. But he must see Claire. If he sees her, everything will be fine. This stupid illness will shrink away and vanish like a bad dream.

    He''s about to knock on Claire''s door when Lucille, Claire''s personal maid, appears out of nowhere, waving a key.

    "Sir, she''s still asleep, sir," Lucille says. "You might interrupt her beauty rest."

    These people are so well-trained, he thinks. "I just need to see her. I won''t even wake her up."

    Lucille looks at him from head to toe, doubting what he just said. After all, a red-blooded man like him trying to enter a lady''s room in the middle of the night "just to see her"? In which planet is that even normal? "But sir, you ?ssigned me to protect Miss Claire. Doesn''t it also mean protecting her from you?"

    Jesus, he thinks, Lucille didn''t get the memo. How does he even break it to her? "Lucille, believe me, I am not going to take advantage of her in any way. So if you have the key¡ªif what you have in your hand is, in fact, this door''s key¡ªthen please give it to me."

    Lucille hesitates. "Are you sure, sir?"

    "You''re the tenth person who asked me tonight if I am sure about my actions. Of course, I''m sure. I couldn''t be more sure. So please hand me that key or I will surely fire you first thing in the morning."

    Lucille grabs Gabriel''s hand, placing the key in his palm. "You should have told me two seconds ago, sir. Here''s the key. Would you like me to open the door for you, sir? I can¡ª"

    "I can do it," he says. "Go ahead, Lucille, continue doing whatever you''re doing elsewhere."

    Yet, Lucille still stands there hesitating.

    "I told you," he says, "this is between me and my fianc¨¦e."

    "You mean, your employee, sir?"

    "No, I mean, for real," he says. "We''re officially a real couple, Lucille."

    It takes Lucille a few moments before the meaning of the words sink in. When it does, her eyes go wide. "Oh, my God!" she shrieks. "Oh, my God, are you for real, Gabriel? Err, I mean, sir? Oh, my fu?k?n? God!"

    "Stop cursing," he says, trying to stifle his own laughter. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, Lucille, but please move along. Allow me to see my fianc¨¦e just for tonight."

    Lucille giggles. Then she theatrically curtsies. "As you wish, sir. But please, no monkey business."

    Gabriel smiles. "No dirty business of any kind."

    After Lucille leaves, Gabriel turns to face the door. He sighs. Suddenly he realizes the inappropriateness of this action¡ªhe''s entering Claire''s suite without her permission. But then again, it''s not like he''s going to **** her or anything. He''s just¡­he just wants to see her.

    As he enters the suite, he tries hard not to make a sound. Somehow he feels like an intruder. The living area is neat and clean, like nobody has been home. He tiptoes toward the bedroom. On the way, he catches a glance of the broken iPhone on the coffee table¡ªhe cringes at the sight of it, how it''s almost pulverized as though a hulking giant stomped on it. It didn''t even last twenty-four hours, he thinks, and smiles, mainly because of the memory of seeing her in the Jacuzzi during that FaceTime session. It seems like a long time ago.

    He enters the bedroom and there she is. She''s still in character as Bella Xavier, still wearing that blond wig. She''s still wearing her office clothes, or at least the fashionable office outfit Cassandra makes her wear, carefully chosen every single day. He makes a mental note of giving Cassandra a promotion or a raise, she deserves it.

    He stands at the foot of the bed, just watching her sleep. He feels as though he hasn''t seen her in a very long time. He''s so hungry, thirsty for the sight of her. That cute mouth, that cute nose, those eyes that make her seem so innocent and so naughty at the same time. He sighs; just days ago, she was just standing at the entrance of his office tower. What were the chances that she could have chosen not to proceed in entering it¡ªand thereby entering his life¡ªand leaving him with the same shitty little life as before? She could have left. She could have proceeded to the next company in her list. He could not have known her. Now she''s here. Standing here by the foot of her bed, Gabriel feels like he has come home. Still in his hospital clothes, he climbs on it, slipping in between the covers. She doesn''t even budge; she''s still deep in her slumber. At a certain point, she giggles in her sleep, and he wonders what she could be dreaming right now. He hopes it''s about him, about them.

    He lies there, right beside her, and as he gazes at the ceiling, he realizes how creepy this must be. This should be standard stalker behavior, right? Except he won''t be stalking because she would have welcomed it if she had known. But still. When she wakes up in the morning and finds him there, she would scream her lungs out¡ªor would she, if she finds out it''s him? Ah, stop thinking, Gabriel. Just fu?k?n? stop. You''ve been overthinking all your life, you just¡­just try to experience things as they happen. And right now, this is heaven¡ªhe takes a deep breath, his head swimming in her sweet womanly scent, and it takes him a heroic amount of self-control to not let this go overboard and become s?xu??. Oh, Claire, he thinks. I''m here. But take your sweet time. Dream your sweet dreams. Dream of me. When you wake up¡­when you wake up¡­

    Gabriel doesn''t finish the thought as his exhaustion, finally, overtakes him.

    And as he expected, a few hours later, he is jolted to high-pitched wakefulness¡ªby the woman screaming beside him.

 Chapter 106 - The Morning that Came

    "Oh, my God! Gabriel?" Claire couldn''t believe her eyes. "Oh, my God!"

    She throws her arms around the still groggy Gabriel, who starts trying to explain why he''s being creepy and sleeping here beside her. But there''s something about the way she hugs him, a sense of desperation, a neediness, that he has never felt come from her before. He returns the embrace, feeling the softness of her skin, the hair on his cheek, until he realizes she''s crying.

    He holds her on the shoulders and gazes at her face. It''s all wet with tears, and she tries to hide it with her arms, like a child who doesn''t want to admit she''s crying.

    "Why, Claire? I''m here. There''s nothing to be upset about."

    And like what happened in the hospital, when she sat there waiting for him to wake up, Claire sobs finally, openly, like a dam that is unleashed.

    Gabriel lets her cry. He sighs. Watching her like this causes an ache in his heart; he realizes nothing bad must happen to him. He must never do anything bad. Because if he does, look at how broken it makes her. She seems like a child, so pure and innocent in her fear of losing him.

    Quietly, he touches a tendril of her hair¡ªfake blond hair, for now, but it doesn''t matter¡ªand gently tucks it behind her ear. He whispers, "It''s okay, Claire. I''m here. I''m here," over and over, waiting for her sobs to die down. And when finally, she calms down, when her sobs have turned into sniffles, it is his turn to lock her in an embrace. God, how much she missed this woman, and it has been only a couple of days. How he missed the way she looks, the feel of her, the way she makes him happy deep down inside. And she lets him; she even runs her hands on his back, feeling him.

    They stay like that for a long moment, enjoying each other''s company, quietly, without words, afraid to take it further. They would have stayed like that forever if the bedside phone didn''t ring. It trills so loudly it jolts both of them from their reverie.

    "Yes?" There''s irritation in Gabriel''s voice. "Oh, Dale, I''m fine. We''re fine. And while you''re at it, how about sending up breakfast?" He glances at Claire. She smiles. "You know that''s breakfast for two, Dale, right? Okay." He hangs up.

    "So what''s today''s plan?" Claire says, taking his hand and plays with it.

    He smiles at the gesture; it''s all so innocent. Sex doesn''t even get in the picture; at least not yet. "Plan? I''m not sure. How about let''s plan on having no plan at all?"

    She giggles. "I like the sound of that. It''s like my life''s entire plan."

    "Don''t be too hard on yourself," he says. "Sometimes the best laid plans are the ones you don''t articulate or say out loud, but it''s just there in your heart, solid and clear regardless of anything else."

    "I love the words that come out of your mouth," she says and giggles.

    "Really? Is it not because you thought I was dying?" He laughs.

    She''s about to say something but the phone rings again. Gabriel reaches over to answer it. "Miguel, how is it?" He mouths out "your suitor" to Claire, which makes her slap him playfully on the shoulder. "I''m fine. I''m in bed with Claire right now."

    Claire''s eyes go huge. "What did you just say?" she scream-whispers. "He might ?ssume it''s about the other thing!"

    Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Oh, Miguel, Claire wants to make it very clear that being ''in bed'' with her does not mean having s?x with her."

    "Jesus, Gab!" she scream-whispers. "You''re killing me."

    "Yes, yes, I''m also glad to have made it clear. We don''t want people misjudging us, do we? This is all a clean, wholesome relationship. No s?x at all."

    Claire is pulling at her hair in frustration; she couldn''t make him stop.

    "I imagine Claire is pulling at her hair right now," Miguel says on the other end, trying to stifle his laughter.

    "Your imagination is uncanny," Gabriel says, snickering. "That''s exactly what she''s doing right now."

    "Oh, Jesus, you two," Claire says, exasperated. She stands up from the bed, but before she could take a step, she shrieks¡ªshe''s only wearing a top as her skirt is missing. She grabs the blanket to cover herself, and makes a face at the man still talking on the phone.

    "Did she just scream?" Miguel says, laughing now. "What happened?"

    "I''m not sure. But I just saw the most amazing and the longest legs I''ve seen in my life."

    Miguel isn''t sure what his brother is trying to describe, but he has an inkling, and instantly, a slight pang of jealousy pierces his heart. He would die to see what his brother just saw.

    "Stop it," she says out loud now, no longer scream-whispering. "Your brother is being an ?ss, Miguel."

    "I''m not even doing anything," Gabriel says. He laughs as Claire throws a pillow in his general direction.

    Miguel could only laugh on the other end; it''s all he could do to stop his jealousy from pouring forth. He could only imagine her, at this point in the morning, so fresh and glowing from a restful sleep; and his awareness that all he could do is "imagine" her while his brother is actually seeing her right now only sinks his heart in the depths of despair. He stares at the phone in his hand and wonders why in hell did he even call? What was he thinking? Then he remembers. "Your medicine, Gabriel. The doctor gave me the oral versions of the ones they were administering to you intravenously. Since you suddenly bolted out of the hospital last night."

    "Were they angry?" Gabriel says.

    Miguel drily laughs. "You''re the big boss, the chairman of the board, Gab. If they were irritated at your behavior, they concealed it perfectly. Remember to give a little credit to those nurses and that doctor."

    "You do it, please," Gabriel says. "Give them a raise or something. I get sick so rarely that anyone who treats me should feel like they''ve won the lottery or something."

    "Sure," Miguel says. "Do I send these medicines to Claire''s place, or to yours?"

    "Well, send them over here. At her suite. I might stay a while."

    There it is again, that little pang of jealousy. He could only imagine the joy of being with her. Miguel sighs. "Okay. I''ll call up your butler."

    "Are you all right, man?" Gabriel says, noticing the gravity in his brother''s voice. "Or is it you who is ill, this time? Let''s have you checked."

    "Don''t be crazy," Miguel says. "I''m completely fine. Enjoy the day, man. You deserve it." He hangs up before Gabriel could say goodbye.

    That''s odd, Gabriel thinks as he puts the phone back on the receiver.

    Meanwhile, Claire has turned the blanket into some sort of a long skirt, and she''s giggling at her handiwork. "Can I replace Miss Cassandra now as your stylist?"

    "You can replace a hundred Cassandras," he says, as he stands up and takes her hand. "So what a total non-plan do we plan on having today?"

    She shrugs. "What about a long soak in the tub?"

    Gabriel''s eyes go huge. A soak in the tub? Together with her? He swallows a sudden lump in his throat. It''s still so early in the morning, but this is shaping up into one of the best days of his life. "A soak in the tub sounds just about right," he says, as he starts unbuttoning his hospital shirt.

    "That''s what you deserve, big man," she says, giggling like one of those Japanese p?rn stars.

 Chapter 107 - The Surprise Soak

    This is going to be mind-blowing, he thinks, as he watches Claire get the jet tub ready. She turns on the water, ensures it''s the right warmth, then empties a small bottle of bubble bath. Foam quickly develops, filling the bathroom with that familiar floral fragrance he has begun to ?ssociate with her presence.

    Outside, it is indeed a beautiful morning, with the morning sun bathing the city with its crisp, warm light. "I bought this hotel because of the view," he mutters as he gazes at the skyline, seemingly entranced. "And I specifically chose this suite for you, because of this very view." He smiles as he turns to her. "Isn''t it wonderful?"

    "It is magical," she says, as they stand there, facing the glass wall. That''s why I love long soaks. Thank you for this, Gab."

    "You deserve all the finest things, Claire," he says. He takes her hand. "Come on, the tub awaits."

    "You go on ahead," she says. "Go, you need it."

    "But¡­"

    "Go on, before the water gets too cold."

    Timidly, Gabriel gets in the tub, one foot at a time. He''s still wearing his hospital bottoms. He slips it out of his legs under the water and holds up the wet clothing. He turns and finds her no longer there. "Hey, where are you?"

    "Go ahead, I''ll be right there in a moment," says Claire''s voice, probably from one of the rooms.

    She''s going to do something naughty, Gabriel thinks, his heart pounding in his ?h?st. Jesus, she''s going to be eye-poppingly awesome.

    He tries to relax in the tub, feeling the perfectly warm soapy water ??r?ss his flesh. He realizes to his mild horror that he still has that distinct hospital antiseptic smell on him. How embarrassing! What did she think or feel about that? He dips his head in the water, scrubs his shoulder-length hair with the perfumed froth, and kneads the hospital smell off his skin. "I need some silicone brush," he says out loud to no one in particular. "There''s this hard-to-reach spot on my back that¡ª"

    Gabriel is mildly surprised when someone starts gently scrubbing him on the back. "Oh, that''s good," he says, purring like a cat. "God, I missed that." He doesn''t look back just to relish this build-up of excitement. Claire must be standing behind him n?k?d, and she''s wordlessly scrubbing his back with what he feels is a silicone brush, perhaps because she wants to surprise him, too. "That feels so good," he m??ns. Suddenly, the brush is gone and what directly massage his back are her hands. "Wow," he exclaims. "That''s surprisingly bold." When the hands reach his shoulders, Gabriel touches it to ??r?ss it. "Have you been gardening lately? Your hand feels a bit rough, Claire," he says.

    "My name is Dale, sir."

    Gabriel''s head spins around so fast it''s comical. "What in hell are you doing here?"

    "Uhh, Claire sent me, sir," Dale stammers. "She said you will need ?ssistance. So I''m here." A pause. "Would you like me to continue, sir?"

    "What? No! Get out," he says.

    "Are you sure, sir? Because there seems to be a knot of muscle in your back that needs some¡ª"

    "I don''t care about that fu?k?n? knot or whatever. Just get out, Dale. I don''t¡­Just get out, please, before I lose it."

    In Dale''s panic, he bows as he leaves. "I''m sorry, sir." He slips out of the bathroom as quietly as he must have come in.

    Gabriel abruptly stands up from the tub, like an angry Godzilla, water splashing about the bathroom. He''s beet-red in the face. It''s embarrassing. How could Claire do that? Water is still dripping all over his body, and there''s an island of foam on his head, but he grabs a towel and wraps it around his h?ps, grumbling. When he steps out of the bathroom, he finds Claire laughing like crazy.

    "Very funny," he fumes.

    Claire is already so red in the face from all that laughing. She''s incredibly cute, he thinks, and it would have been a lot better under a different circumstance. But Gabriel has lost his temper.

    "I''m sorry," she giggles, not really sorry. "It was just a prank, Gab. But wasn''t it great? I thought you and Dale hit it off instantly."

    Gabriel says nothing. He just tightens up the towel around his h?ps, then he marches off without a word, toward the door.

    Claire is still laughing, but her laughter slowly fades as she sees Gabriel stomping out of the suite. "I''m sorry. Gab. Gab? Where are you going? You''re not dressed!"

    But Gabriel doesn''t even look back; he goes straight to the elevator lobby. Claire tries to catch up with him, but she arrives just as the elevator doors close. She yells, "Gabriel! That was only a prank!" But he''s gone.

    Claire catches her breath as she walks back to her suite. Jesus, that was only a prank, she thinks. Sometimes you really don''t know what happens next with Gabriel. Others would be mildly amused; they might even find the prank funny, even at the expense of themselves. But it turns out, not so with Gabriel. He''s as unpredictable as a hurricane, sometimes. She can''t believe he''d walk away like that¡ªwearing nothing but the bathroom towel! Who does something like that? He''s really eccentric. Crazy. Yet, sometimes Claire feels like she''s probably the only person, aside from Miguel, of course, who truly understands the quirks of Gabriel''s personality.

    As she steps back into her suite, the phone rings.

    "This is the Concierge, Miss Claire. We have spotted a half-naked Gabriel Tan striding out of the Residence. Should we be concerned? Do we capture him?"

    That makes Claire laughs, despite the context. Gabriel is first and foremost their boss, but the Residence''s people seem to have begun treating her as their absolute ruler or something. "Please let him be. Is he safe?"

    "We believe so, Miss Claire. He is now driving away in his fast car."

    "All right. Thank you."

    They had planned to spend the day together. Their plan was to have no plan at all. But now, the whole thing''s gone. As Claire quietly gets ready for the day¡ªit''s still the work week and she''s expected at the office, especially with Michelle around¡ªshe begins to realize how it was her fault. Gabriel is Gabriel, and she can''t change him, anymore. She could have just tried to better understand him. She could have, for instance, actually joined him in the tub. But she had no intention of doing that¡ªthey''re not yet totally a couple. There are still a lot of gray areas in their so-called relationship. And she had wanted to spend the day with him not to fool around or have s?x (she''s still a v?r??n, didn''t he remember that?) but to talk to him about her fears; how afraid she was when he got sick, what she felt, all the deepest terrors. But like all men, Gabriel tends to think with his smaller head than his big head.

    Claire goes through the motions of the morning. She has a light breakfast of sausage and eggs (had she let Gabriel have his way, she could be having a different kind of "sausage and eggs" at this very minute; she giggles at the thought), after which Miss Cassandra''s ?ssistant, Ashley, brings in her outfit for the day, complete with a new, clean blond wig. The sight of the knee-length sleeveless pencil dress, complete with a pearl necklace, almost takes her breath away¡ªas always, Miss Cassandra never fails in impressing her. Claire always looks so simple, elegant, yet incredibly s?xy in the clothes the stylist makes her wear each day. Ashley even helps her put it on. Fixing the blond wig on her head is the icing on this cake.

    "You are beautiful, Miss Claire," Ashley says.

    "Thank you," she beams, standing before the full-length mirror. "All thanks to Miss Cassandra."

    The phone rings again just before she leaves.

    "It''s Dale, Madam. Mr. Gabriel''s butler is here, says he''s supposed to bring to your place Mr. Gabriel''s medicine."

    "What? But Gabriel left almost an hour ago."

    "Should I tell him to bring it instead to Mr. Gabriel''s place, then?"

    Claire hesitates for a moment. Gabriel could be at the office, which is why she''s also going there now. She''ll ask for forgiveness over that stupid prank. But only if there''s a quiet moment, away from Michelle. But it''s also possible that Gabriel would not come to work today. She could bring the medicine to his place. That would be a great chance to say sorry and bond with him. Maybe. "No, Dale. Tell him to leave the meds there with you. I''ll get it from you. I''m going down now."

    "Are you sure, Miss Claire, because¡ª"

    "I''m quite sure. I want to personally bring Gabriel his meds. You know I have an unfinished business with him."

    If Dale wants to giggle at what Claire hints at, he does not let her know. He keeps a straight face, a serious voice. "Yes, Madam. Absolutely. Mr. Gabriel''s meds will be here when you''re ready."

 Chapter 108 - The Errand Girl for Rhythm

    "To the office, Madam?" Dean, her chauffeur, asks.

    "Yes, please, Dean," she says, as she eases herself in the luxurious plush leather backseat.

    "Are those for Mr. Gabriel?" he says, pointing at the pharmaceutical package she''s holding. "Is he well now?"

    "I hope so. That''s the whole point of these drugs."

    "I''m sure he will be fine. Mr. Gabriel is a strong man," the chauffeur says.

    Strong, but ill-tempered, she wants to say, but zips it. She smiles as she recalls how Gabriel stomped out of her room earlier, his well-shaped bu????ks bulging through the half-wet towel. She''s sure there was also another "bulge" in his front, but she dared not look at it. Indeed, he looked like a Greek god, an angry Greek god. But she would not tell him that; he''s already pig-headed and egoistic as he is. Telling him how great he looks would only swell his pride.

    Although she''s almost sure Gabriel would not be at the office, she wants to check it herself, anyway. "Can you wait here, Dean? I might be back shortly."

    "Yes, Madam."

    It''s still about half an hour before the company''s official work hours, but Mrs. Gomez is already at her usual perch at the reception desk, hungry for gossip. Her eyes light up upon seeing Claire. "So, it appears our most eligible bachelor is back from the darkness."

    "Good morning to you, too, Mrs. Gomez."

    Mrs. Gomez tails her like an excited kid as she continues walking toward Gabriel''s office. "That''s it? You won''t even share with me the least juicy detail? How''s our lover boy?"

    Claire stops and turns to her. She''s not quite sure about Mrs. Gomez, whether she''s on Gabriel''s side or not. Maybe it''s best to keep things from her after all. "He''s still recuperating. There''s really nothing ''juicy'' about it. And if I were you, Ma''am, I would try my best to avoid crossing his path in the next few days as much as possible." Claire makes a face. "He''s very ill-tempered. Heads might roll. Are you ready to find yourself to be suddenly out of a job?"

    "Oh," is what Mrs. Gomez manages to say, before she quietly shrinks back to her desk.

    Gabriel would not really fire someone like Mrs. Gomez, not in a million years. But sometimes it helps if you remind people of their place. Especially now that Michelle is just around, probably observing the dynamics of the people in this office.

    As expected, the door to Gabriel''s office is closed. She slips inside and finds everything squeaky clean. She looks at Gab''s desk phone in the corner, and thinks about calling him up at his penthouse suite. She''s already holding the receiver, when she realizes she doesn''t want to lose the element of surprise. After all, this is what it''s all about, right? He surprised her last night. She will give him the surprise of his life today.

    On her way out, the very person she''s trying to avoid meeting appears in her path: Michelle Alcantara, whose face turns into a gigantic smile upon seeing her.

    "Oh, my God! Have you visited Gab?" Michelle shrieks, giving her an air-kiss. "I was there last night. He almost didn''t want to let me go."

    "Really?" Claire says, wondering why Gab didn''t mention her. "We must have missed each other by a few minutes. I was also there, and¡­" Wait a minute, Claire suddenly realizes: she was at the hospital last night! So how did she end up at home, in her bed? Was it¡­Miguel? But how?

    "Is he fine, now? Because when I left, he was already awake."

    Claire hesitates. "He''s fine. He''s¡­recuperating."

    "At the hospital? In the ICU? Or has he been transferred to some other room to recover?"

    "I think he has been transferred," Claire lies.

    "Oh," Michelle says. She falls silent for a moment, thinking deeply. She shrugs. "Well, as he''s not here, I don''t really have anything to do. I guess I should go and visit him. What do you think?"

    "Sure, go ahead," Claire says, feeling guilty. "I''m sure he will be delighted to see you."

    Michelle grins. "That''s what I love about you, Bella. You always know the truth." She grasps her by an arm. "What say you we go together to the hospital? We can have our little meeting right there. Gab wouldn''t want to waste time. I''m sure he''d have wanted to settle things between us."

    For a moment Claire panics. She can''t be with her. She''s not ready to face the consequence of her little white lie. And she really feels Gabriel needs the meds right now. She takes a deep breath to compose herself, then puts on the sweetest smile. "I would love to, Michelle. But there''s an urgent thing Gabriel has sent me to do. You know how he is when he wants something done as soon as possible¡ªhe really, really wants it done pronto! So¡­"

    Michelle makes a sad face. "Oh, too bad. If Gabriel sees us together, our girl power combined would have healed him instantly." Michelle giggles, and it''s such a fresh, honest-to-goodness girl giggle that Claire is taken aback: this is not the kind of person she had thought Michelle is. Why does Michelle talk to her as if she were her high-school BFF?

    "We can do that next time," Claire says. "Or maybe tomorrow?"

    "Let''s do it tomorrow, if Gab''s still there," Michelle says. "But for now I really need to see him. Make him realize what he has lost, you know. Or at least make him feel I''m on his side."

    "I think that''s a good idea," Claire says, thinking it''s not a good idea at all. "So. Take care. You go ahead, and I''ll proceed to my ?ssigned task."

    "Okay," Michelle chirps. "See ya!"

    Claire stares at Michelle as she walks away, waiting for an enough amount of time for Michelle to be gone in the elevator. She looks at her wristwatch: It''s almost time for Gabriel to take these meds. When she''s sure Michelle is gone, she follows suit.

    "Gabriel''s place," she says to Dean as she slips into the passenger seat. "And we need to make it fast. He must not miss taking these meds."

    He also must not miss the great surprise she has in store for him, but she doesn''t say it; she just keeps it in her heart.

 Chapter 109 - The Breakfast of Champions

    Gabriel looks like a snake has bitten him. He''s standing in the middle of a wide-open door, his mouth hanging open, staring at her in disbelief.

    "You''re here," he says, citing the obvious.

    "Surprise!" Claire says, also citing the obvious. "Aren''t you inviting me in?"

    "Oh, please, please," he says, ushering her in, the previous drama quickly forgotten. Then he mutters, almost a whisper, "If you want, you can move in so we can live together forever."

    "What did you say?"

    "Uhh, I said, you''re always welcome anytime here."

    Claire steps into an exceptionally spacious living area, designed to let light in and play with the interior''s natural textures. Like Claire''s place in the Residence, Gabriel''s home is a penthouse suite, which probably occupies the entire top-most floor from the looks of it. If Claire is impressed, she doesn''t show it. Instead, she holds up a package. "Your meds, Gab. I think you must take them now."

    "I know," he says, taking it. "Thanks."

    "Have you eaten?" she abruptly says.

    "Well, uhh," he stammers, suddenly embarrassed because the question of him having eaten inevitably points out the fact that he had left her place so sudden and awkward earlier, just because of that prank in the bathroom. "Well, I haven''t.."

    "You must be hungry," she declares. "Where''s your kitchen?"

    "What? No, you don''t have to¡ª"

    But Claire has gone ahead looking for that particular place with cooking equipment, which she finds shortly. She stops and looks around. "Eggs? Bacon?"

    "Well, uhh, there!" he points to what looks like a huge cabinet with a luxurious mahogany finish. "You can find everything there."

    She hesitates for a moment, confused at what he''s pointing to. Tentatively, she pulls open the cabinet''s doors, and is mildly surprised that it''s actually a customized fridge. It has so many shelves and contents that it takes her a while to spot where the eggs and bacon are. She also takes a box of muffins. "I make a mean eggs Benedict."

    "Who''s Benedict?"

    "Eggs Bene¡ªnever mind," she says, placing the ingredients on the counter. She works quickly, her hands deftly cracking the eggs, her other hand taking out a bowl from the under-counter, tossing in ingredients, mixing them with a fork, a dash of some seasoning here, a splash of some oil there. Gabriel watches her in amazement.

    "You can cook?"

    She shrugs. "My mother can cook. I''m just her lifelong trainee."

    "But¡­" he gestures toward the food she''s preparing. "You''re obviously an expert at this. You''re¡ª"

    He doesn''t finish what he''s saying as Claire puts an egg-yolk-dipped finger on his lips. "Shut up, Mr. Gabriel Tan. Please just sit back, relax, and let me cook some good food for you, okay?"

    He shrugs. "Okay." He sits on the stool by the counter, watching her quietly. But he couldn''t stop his curiosity as he finds what she''s doing very interesting. "What''s this yellow sauce here?" He points to the bowl.

    "That''s Hollandaise sauce. I''m making it from scratch," she says as she takes the bowl and mixes its contents, her hand deftly working its magic.

    "Oh, fancy," he simply says.

    "Haven''t you had eggs Benedict before?"

    "Of course, I have," he says. "I think."

    "It''s just poached eggs on an open-topped sandwich of English muffins," she says while her hands start working the stove.

    "Oh, I know now," he says. "It''s one of my favorites. It''s just that I didn''t bother knowing what these dishes'' names are. I just tell the chef to give me a good breakfast. I just point and point and point at what I like."

    Claire pouts. "This should taste better than what your chefs can make," she says, not looking at him. She starts frying the bacon on medium heat, in order to ensure it would be evenly crispy. "Because this is cooked with love."

    She just tosses it out there. This is cooked with love, she said, like the most normal thing to say in the world. As though it didn''t take her an enormous amount of courage to just say out loud. And it came out so nonchalantly that at first, Gabriel didn''t even realize it. He just says, "Oh I see." But as he watches her do her magic with the poached eggs, her words start to sink in. "Because this is cooked with love," she said. Did she just say that?? Love? Did she mean¡­

    Gabriel stifles his gladness. He wants to laugh, to run and throw his arms around her, but instead, he sits there as still as possible, biting his lip so he won''t say stupid things. He''s looking at what she does, but he really doesn''t see; he''s seeing the future. He''s seeing what he wants to do with her, every single day of his life. He''s so enraptured by his daydream that he''s a bit shocked when she carefully, even almost reverentially places a plate before him.

    "Please enjoy your food, sir," she says, her hands on her h?ps, proud and ???ky.

    "Jesus," he mutters, savoring the heady aroma of freshly cooked eggs Benedict wafting into his nostrils. "This looks like the very best breakfast I have ever had in my life."

    "The breakfast of champions," she says, gazing at him intently.

    "Shall I partake now?"

    "Of course, sir. Go ahead." She smiles.

    "But first, here''s a glass of water."

    "What for?"

    "For your meds, Gab, come on," she says, slightly exasperated. "Take them now. I''ll watch."

    He gazes at her as he opens the packet of medicine. "You''re like my mother. So strict."

    "I''m better than your mother," she says. She turns and mutters, "Because I''ll be with you for the rest of your life."

    "What did you say?" Gabriel pops a pill.

    "Nothing," she says. "I merely said I''m not your mom."

    After popping a bunch of pills, he says, "Now, can I eat?"

    She nods solemnly. "Have at it, Mr. Tan."

    He shoves a morsel into his mouth. His face writhes in ecstasy. "Oh, Jesus. This is heavenly," he struggles to say, as his mouth is full. "And I''m not saying this just to be on your good side, Miss Monteverde. But this is really something. Whoever Benedict is, I want him to know his eggs are glorious."

    Claire giggles. "Stop it. Just eat."

    "Okay," he upraises his hands. "I''m just saying, really fantastic eggs."

    It''s her turn to watch him eat. He looks like a child when he eats and chews, with sauce dribbling from his mouth and all the stupid non-sense things he says. And yet. She loves watching him. She smiles just to egg (pun intended) him on. "You need to regain your strength, Gab," she says after a while. "We have a lot of things to do, remember?"

    He looks at her. "I don''t really care about work stuff right now, Claire. I''m just enjoying this. Being with you. Thank you for coming."

    "If you must know, Mr. Tan, this is a professional visit. I came here as your executive ?ssistant, Bella Xavier. So."

    "Oh. So that''s why you cooked this with love."

    "Well, I¡­" she stammers. "It''s just that, everything I do, I do it with¡­love, you know."

    "Really?" he says, reaching out to take her hand. She lets him. He puts her hand on his ?h?st. Her heart flutters, feeling his ?h?st muscles. "Do you feel that? That''s you, making it beat."

    Claire blushes despite herself. What she really thinks is, his ?h?st is really so hard! Like a wall of stone! But she tries to hide what she feels. She says, "Oh, my God, that''s so corny, Gab!"

    "Oh, really? You¡ª" Gabriel grimaces, his hand on his forehead.

    "Are you all right?" she says.

    "Something¡­There''s something¡­ My head aches."

    Claire panics. "Should I call someone? The hospital?"

    "No, don''t," he whispers. "I just need to lie down in bed."

    "Okay," she says, her voice quaking, as she tries to make him rest his weight on her. "Okay. But where''s the bedroom?"

    The bedroom is at the far end of the hallway, Gabriel remembers. It''s too long a walk in this situation. "Just put me on the sofa, please. I''ll be okay."

    "Are you sure?" she says, as she puts him carefully on the divan. "But you''ve just taken your meds¡­"

    "Yes, this is probably just a reaction," his voice hoarse.

    Claire holds his hands. "What do you want me to do? Should I call up Miguel?"

    "No, just¡­ I just feel cold. I need warmth."

    "Warmth?" She looks around frantically. "Do I up the thermostat? Do I¡­"

    "No, don''t be silly, Claire. Lie here with me. I think I just need you to hug me and I''ll be fine."

    "What?" She stares at him. Gabriel still acts like he''s about to die any moment. But what he just said made her realize Gabriel is just play-acting. Silly boy! He should have taken better drama classes.

    "Please," he mutters, as though he''s reaching out from the depths of hell. "Please lie here with me and throw your arms around me. I feel so cold. I think I''m really dying now."

    Claire tries not to smile. "Oh, Mr. Tan, don''t worry, I''ll give you all the warmth you need!"

    She lies on the divan, too, and arranges herself so that her arms are around him and his face is almost resting on her bosom. "Is this good?"

    "Yeah, this is just about heavenly¡­" he mumbles.

    "Would you like me to take off my clothes so that, you know, we can be warmer?"

    Upon hearing "Take off my clothes," Gabriel''s ears perk up. This is going so well, he thinks. Maybe today is really his lucky day. "Please, I need warmth," he almost m??ns. "I feel so, so cold, Claire."

    Claire tries not to laugh. "But my hands couldn''t reach the bu??ons on the back of my dress, Gab," she says achingly. "If only you could reach out and¡ª"

    "Oh, sure, I can," he says too enthusiastically. "I only need to¡ª"

    The doorbell rings.

    "Are you expecting someone?" Claire says, even as she tries to get up.

    The door rings for the second time, the doorknob turns. When the door swings open, shock and disappointment register on the visitor''s face.

    It''s Michelle. And the only thing she says upon seeing Claire is, "I can''t believe you''ll do this to me!"

 Chapter 110 - The Second Helping of Eggs

    "Did you just trick me?" Michelle spits. "I came from the hospital. Gabriel had been discharged last night. You told me he was still there."

    "I''m sorry, Michelle, I¡­"

    "No, don''t blame her," Gabriel stands up. "And also, there are a few things that confuse me here. For one, who told you to go and visit me at the hospital? And another, you''re not supposed to come here, Michelle. We''re over. You don''t do shit like this anymore and pretend like we''re still together. And lastly¡ª" he gazes at Claire, who he quickly realizes is in character as Bella, with her blond wig and office attire and all. "¡ªLastly, I asked Bella to bring me my meds. She knew only at the last minute to bring my meds here, and not at the hospital."

    Michelle''s gaze ping-pongs between Gabriel and Claire, trying to ascertain the truth. Then she smiles, trying a new tactic. "I was only concerned about your well-being, Gab. Can''t old friends help out each other during a crisis?"

    "I don''t need a ''friend'' like you, Michelle," he says. "I''m sorry. But it would be a lot better for my health if I don''t see you. At least not in the next few days."

    "What?" Michelle scowls, her fa?ade crumbling down. "But we have urgent matters to discuss!"

    Gabriel scoffs. "Are you that dense? Can''t you see I''m not in a good place right now?"

    Michelle says nothing. She gestures a hand towards Claire. "And what about her?"

    Gabriel''s brow creases. "What do you mean ''what about her''?"

    "Why is she even here? Why did you seem so physically close when I walked in?" Michelle paces the room like she owns it, much to Gabriel''s irritation. "And where is that so-called fianc¨¦e of yours, that Claire What''s-her-face? You were sick. She didn''t even visit you? And instead I find your executive ?ssistant doing what your fianc¨¦e should be doing!"

    "Stop it," Gabriel hisses. "You don''t behave like this in my place. Get out. We will talk when I get back. But for now, I need peace and quiet, and I won''t have it as long as you''re here."

    "How have you become such an evil person, Gab?"

    "What? Me, evil? What in hell are you talking about?"

    "You used to be so nice, especially to women," Michelle sniffles. "But now, you''re always treating me like I''m garbage."

    "Because you are garbage, Michelle," Gabriel says, matter-of-factly. "I don''t see you as a person. So please, give us both a break and just go."

    Michelle stares at him; she looks like she''s a dam on the verge of exploding. But in the end, she sighs. She casts Claire a look, then quietly she walks out.

    Claire looks at him. "Crazy thought. What are the chances she returns, with a revolver, and shoots us both?"

    "Morbid," he says, but he heads towards the door just the same, to close it. "But people should know when to move on. I did."

    But the door has not been closed for five seconds when it buzzes again. Gabriel doesn''t bother to look at the visitor through the peep hole. He slams it open and yells, "Will you please get lost?"

    "What did I do to deserve that?" says a surprised Miguel, who looks every inch like he just came from a salon make-over. "And why is Michelle crying like you took away her cotton candy?"

    Gabriel shrugs. "I can''t stand her."

    Miguel sees her, who seems to be tidying up the living area. "I see you''ve hired a new bombshell maid, bro."

    Gabriel laughs, while Claire makes a face. "He cannot afford me," she says. "That''s why this service is free."

    Miguel turns to Gab. "I just thought of checking up on you. How are you doing?"

    "Fine. She brought me my meds. I got a little woozy after taking a bunch of those pills, but generally I''m fine."

    "That''s good to hear," Miguel says, his eyes upon Claire across the room. There''s a surge of excitement in his heart upon seeing her. What is it about this woman? Why was he able to give away Michelle Alcantara years ago, but he can''t seem to move on from Claire? The truth is, he had come here expecting to find her. He cares about his brother, but he knows Gabriel is fine; he only wants to get a glimpse of her, who is currently busy picking up stuff from the floor or fixing the orientation of some gigantic porcelain vase in a corner. She looks to be pretending to be busy. And pretending to be busy, in Miguel''s book, is a sign of overcompensation¡ªhis brother and Claire must have been fooling around a few moments before Michelle appeared. And realizing that, in a space of a few seconds, made Miguel cross the entire spectrum from gladness to despair. "So is Claire staying here? Or do you want me to call up your butler?

    "Well, I''m not sure," Gabriel says, really wishing Claire chooses to stay. The room phone rings, and Gabriel goes to answer it.

    Miguel follows Claire to the kitchen. He finds her cleaning up the dishes.

    "You''re too beautiful to be his chambermaid," he says, sitting on the stool by the counter.

    She laughs. "I cooked him eggs for breakfast. He left so sudden this¡ª" she stops. Should she tell this story to Miguel, of all people? That Gabriel stomped out of her suite in a fit of fury because of that bathroom prank? Maybe not. "What about you?" she says, changing the topic. "Would you like to eat?"

    "I''ve had nothing but ersatz coffee by the roadside," he says. "I''ll gladly have anything you''d give me."

    "How about French toast?"

    "What did you cook for Gabriel?"

    "Uhh, eggs Benedict. Why?"

    "Can I have the same?"

    "Wow, what a demanding customer," she says, shaking her head slightly. But even so, she''s quickly working to prepare his request; after all, Miguel was nice to her at the hospital. Maybe this is the only way she could repay him.

    "I''d just like to enjoy what my brother enjoyed this morning," Miguel says, looking at her with meaning.

    She avoids looking at him. Instead, she focuses on what she''s doing: whipping up the hollandaise sauce, while making sure the bacon is fried at just the right crispness. The eggs are a bit tricky to cook perfectly for this dish, but Claire has her egg poaching skills down pat, thanks to her mom, who had let her prepare breakfast even as a child growing up.

    "Are you going back to the office?" he says.

    "Yes, I should." Claire deftly puts the bacon and eggs on the open-topped halves of a muffin, taking care not to ruin the presentation. "Maybe after I have served you your eggs, Your Highness."

    Miguel laughs. "This is mad skillz, Claire. You cook well. Maybe one of these days you can let me taste some more of your culinary specialties."

    She shrugs. "Maybe. If we have time." She dribbles some Hollandaise sauce over the eggs. "There. Taste it."

    "I''ve already tasted it in my heart."

    She grimaces. "Stop being corny and actually put this food in your mouth, Miguel, while it''s still warm. I have a culinary reputation to uphold."

    "Okay, okay," he says playfully, upraising a hand. He forks a morsel into his mouth, and immediately Miguel''s face contorts in ecstasy. "My God, my mouth just had an ?r??sm," he says, shoveling more into his mouth and making short work of Claire''s eggs Benedict. "I''ve never thought eggs can be this tasty!"

    "Well, my mom is an expert. She has tasted a lot of eggs so she knows how to handle them."

    Miguel chokes as he tries not to laugh; the image of Claire''s mom with a lot of eggs flashes in his mind for some reason.

    The food is gone in minutes. "Can I have more?"

    "Sorry, I only have time for that serving," Claire says, smiling this time.

    They overhear Gabriel getting a bit animated over the phone. "Must be his vice presidents again," Miguel mutters, shaking his head. "He should just fire all of them and replace the whole bunch with actually competent ones."

    "Why do you say so," she says, as she cleans up the counter.

    "Either that or one of these ?ssholes betrayed my brother," he says. "I don''t believe they didn''t know Michelle owned that company they merged with."

    "That''s my gut feeling, too," she says. "But I don''t feel like it''s my place to tell him."

    "Well, you got in here because he trusts you," he says. "Next time something nags you from within, spill it out. Never mind the consequences. Knowing my brother, he''d appreciate the honesty." Miguel stands up. "Maybe I should head out. Aren''t you going, too?"

    "I am," she says, as they walk out into the living area.

    Gabriel is pacing the room, speaking animatedly to whoever is the poor chap on the other end of that line. Miguel just makes hand signals to him, indicating he''s going out. Gabriel nods vigorously, but when he sees Claire going out, too, he puts the phone against his ?h?st. "You''re leaving, too?"

    "There are some pending stuff at the office," she says. "And I need to appease the dragon lady, see what she''s up to."

    Gabriel nods. "That''s brilliant. Thank you for the eggs¡ª"

    "¡ªFantastic eggs!" Miguel says from the door.

    Did she serve Miguel eggs, too? But Gabriel has no time to further explore the question. "Okay, if you''re leaving, what about a goodbye kiss?"

    Claire kisses him. Miguel turns away, unable to bear watching it. "Take care of yourself here, Mr. Tan," she says. "See you later."

    "Couldn''t wait," he says, grinning. But all his elation vanishes when he resumes speaking on the phone.

    They''re already walking on the hallway but they could still hear Gabriel''s voice, rising and falling depending on his temper. "He''ll never change," she says.

    "He is what he is," Miguel says. "Let me drive you back."

    "Oh, Dean''s waiting for me."

    Miguel''s is momentarily confused. "Who''s Dean?"

    She laughs. "The chauffeur. Remember?"

    "Oh," he says. "But you can tell him you''re with me and¡ª"

    "Don''t bother, Miguel, I can manage," she says, tapping him on the arm.

    The elevator descends. Floor by floor by floor. Miguel gazes at the numbers. "I''m going to your office, anyway. It would be more efficient if I''d drive you."

    She says nothing. She just smiles. When the doors slide open, she simply says, "See you later then?"

    Then off she goes to wherever Dean must be parked. Miguel watches her walk away. He realizes that lately, all he seems to do is watch Claire walking away from him. When would be the time when he''d see her walking towards him, and settling in his arms? Maybe not. Never. Leave her alone, he tells himself as he walks toward his parking spot. "Leave her alone. She''s your brother''s woman," he actually says out loud as he eases into the driver''s seat of his Aston Martin. But the other half of his brain wants him to scream, "I''m dying in this pain, Claire! I want you with all my heart!"

    A car stops right beside him. The window slides down. "You drive safely, okay?" It''s Claire, her face, her sweetness almost makes him say, "Why don''t you choose me, instead? Why can''t you love me?" But he keeps it all inside. Instead, what he says is, "Yeah, you too." He even smiles the fakest smile. "See you later, okay?"

    She smiles. The car drives away, leaving him holding the straps of his seatbelt, the fake smile frozen on his face, inside his fancy sports car, sitting still like the world''s biggest loser idiot.

 Chapter 111 - The Highly Urgent Matter

    Claire goes straight to Michelle''s office, after Mrs. Gomez at the reception mentioned how Michelle had arrived wearing huge sunglasses that failed to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. She wants to be on Michelle''s good side, if only to spy for Gabriel. But lately, she feels some empathy for her¡ªmore and more, the image of Michelle in her mind as this callous, evil bitch seems to get eroded somehow.

    Michelle''s still wearing the sunglasses, a classic Fendi that almost covers half her face. And yet, Mrs. Gomez was right: her cheeks are still wet with tears, and she doesn''t even bother wiping them.

    "I''m sorry," Claire says without any preamble, as she slips into Michelle''s office. "What can I do? It''s Gabriel. There''s nothing I could do but watch."

    Michelle''s head turns to her, although Claire still isn''t sure if she''s looking at her. Michelle sniffles. "You could have called me up when Gabriel told you he isn''t at the hospital," she mutters, her voice hoarse. "And you could have defended me there."

    Claire sighs. She sits on the cushy chair by Michelle''s table, as though this were a formal visit and she''s reporting office-related stuff. She reaches out over the table for Michelle''s hand. "I''m really sorry. I''m just a lowly employee." It''s awkward for a few moments, but Michelle squeezes back; then as though this connection with another human being, another woman, is finally some permission to stop holding back, Michelle cries.

    Claire wants to stand and go over Michelle and hug her, but she feels awkward; she had come here as a secret enemy. And besides, what can she say?

    "I don''t know what to do, anymore," Michelle mutters after a while. "Gabriel would never forgive me. There go the past ten years of our lives."

    Jesus, Claire thinks. If Michelle cares about Gabriel, why did she cheat on him? And it dawns on her: perhaps Michelle is telling her this because she doesn''t realize that Claire knows about everything? "I''m sorry," Claire says, trying to weigh her next words. "But didn''t you¡­Didn''t you cheat on him?"

    "What?" Michelle snaps; there''s some anger in her voice. "Who told you THAT?"

    "Uhh," she hesitates, thinking which of the names she knows will attract Michelle''s fury the least. In the end, she decides just to say it as it is. "Gabriel told me that. On my first day."

    Michelle gazes at her; or at least, Michelle''s head is turned toward her, but she couldn''t see her eyes. Michelle doesn''t move for what seem like very long, awkward moments. More and more, Claire regrets ever coming into this office; she could have avoided this situation. She could have given Michelle space to grieve, and not get in the path of her emotional rollercoaster.

    "Who on earth gave Gabriel the right to include that information in his interviews with employees?" Michelle says after a while, no longer crying. As if suddenly her tears have dried out. She pouts and shakes her head. "Oh, Gab, always the tattle-tale." She takes her bag, pulls out a longish cigarette from a pocket, and lights it. She begins leisurely blowing smoke in Claire''s general direction, compelling Claire to secretly ask the Shakespearean question: Is this bitch insane?

    "Uhh, Michelle, there''s no smoking in this office," Claire says. "You could trigger the alarm system."

    Michelle makes a big devil-may-care shrug. She even takes an exceptionally long drag of her cigarette, then she blows the smoke upwards. "Who will know that I''m even smoking in here?"

    Claire points with her finger upward. "That thing right above your head."

    Michelle looks up; there''s an actual smoke detector on the ceiling above her, with its tiny blinking red light. "Don''t mind that. I''ll never set it off, promise," she says, seemingly okay now.

    Claire gazes at her with mild wonder. Was Michelle just acting all along, trying to reel her in? What about those tears, this whole charade? Or had Michelle just forgotten that she had cheated on Gab, so much that those tears were genuine, borne of a misplaced sense of oppression? Claire couldn''t tell. The answer could even be really simple: Michelle''s probably crazy.

    She stands up. "Well, I''ve got to go. There''s something Gabriel wants me to finish, so¡­"

    "Bella, if Gabriel asks you to do anything weird, you tell me, okay?"

    Claire stops. "Define weird?"

    "I don''t know. Anything that sets off your internal alarm system." Michelle shrugs. "Or just anything you feel is juicy enough to share with me." Finally, Michelle takes off her sunglasses, revealing her puffy eyes, and winks at Claire. "We''re allies here, Bella, don''t forget that."

    "Sure," Claire says. She leaves, thinking what a kooky person Michelle is. Is she even in her right mind? Why would she think they''d be allies just because they''re both women?

    She''s deep in her thought that she''s already almost at her desk when she notices the door to Gabriel''s office is open. Her heart jumps: is he here? She quickly peers into the office, only to find not Gabriel but his brother, sitting in the big boss chair and looking around the office. "Oh, it''s you," she says.

    "Don''t be too disappointed," Miguel says, standing up. "I can make you happy, too."

    Claire says nothing to that.

    "Are you actually going to work the whole day?" he says.

    "Yeah, why?"

    "I don''t know. I thought you weren''t serious about going back to the office."

    Claire purses her lips. "I have a real job now, Miguel."

    "And that is?"

    "Well, I take care of¡­things."

    "Good luck with that," he says. "I thought this was all pretend."

    "Will you lower your voice?" she glowers, closing the door behind her. "A lot of the things I do here, Miguel, for your information, is stamping out the little fires."

    Suddenly, as if on cue, the floor''s smoke alarm system is set off. They hear panicking people outside.

    "Are we on fire?" he asks.

    She motions him to relax. "That must be Michelle. I told her to stop smoking. She just set off the detector, Jesus."

    "She''s smoking here?" he says. "Is she crazy? She''s liable for damages, and to think she''s the CEO of the other company that my brother now hates."

    "I know, right?" she says. "But let her be. She''s a riddle I don''t want to solve right now. I have some stuff to type on my computer, some memos that Gabriel has electronically signed. He said these memos must be sent out now, especially that he''s unable to come here."

    "Well, okay," he says. "Sorry for bothering you." Then maybe as a last-ditch effort, he stops as they stand by the door going out. "Would you like to have lunch with me? There''s a newly opened Indian place downtown that I hear is rather sensational. Just a few blocks from here."

    Claire smiles. Really, when would Miguel realize she can''t easily accept these invitations from him? She''s getting weary from having to decline him, and she knows how it must feel. And yet, she must say no. There''s another man in another part of town who might get hurt if she isn''t careful. "I''ll take a rain check, Miguel. I just need to really get onto work."

    "But surely, you must take a break at noon and eat and refuel, right?"

    "I''ll probably have a sandwich at my desk, work through lunch."

    "Okay," he says, trying to hide the depths of his disappointment. "Okay, maybe some other day, then?"

    "Absolutely," she says, not really feeling absolute.

    Claire watches Miguel walk away, hunched over in that particular gait, as though he has the burden of the world on his shoulders. She sighs. She''s not insensitive; she feels him. She knows what he feels. She had been there not too long ago. But there''s really nothing she can do, short of having herself cloned and giving that clone to him as a gift. But even her clone might end up not loving him, but finds herself more attracted to the older brother. That would be double-jeopardy for Miguel.

    She''s serious. She begins working on the memos Gabriel had told her to do, sent through Mrs. Gomez rather belatedly. Claire''s good with language; she even corrects the grammar and edits the text for brevity and clarity. She has also learned very quickly the particulars of operating her computer. It''s a new Mac Pro, one that their IT guy, eager to get on her good side, described in extreme detail to be "equipped with 28 cores and powerful enough to quickly render a one-hour 4k video."

    He lost her at "28 cores"; the "most powerful" computer Claire had used back in college was a dual-core Windows-based machine that already seemed blazingly fast then. "Do I really need this fancy computer?" she had asked him. "I''m only using the word processor, or maybe make a few presentations?"

    The IT guy shrugged; he''s a handsome Indian man who spoke impeccable English and could easily pass off as one of those famous Bollywood actors. "Mr. Tan said to give you the most awesome computer in the universe." He grinned. "He emphasized ''universe'', because, he said, it''s for the ''Miss Universe of his life''." The man giggled like a love-struck teenaged kid.

    Twenty-eight cores or not, Claire makes short work of the memos¡ªfive in total, addressed to different departments, which in essence are telling them to straighten the hell up because he''s coming in a few days. It''s a proper fire-and-brimstone scenario, a classic Gabriel Tan world shaker.

    By early afternoon, she''s done with all the day''s work. She remembers Miguel. She had nothing but a ham-and-cheese sandwich from the vending machine, so she''s tempted to wonder about that newly opened Indian restaurant. Maybe she''d ask Gabriel to dine there one of these days. Maybe tonight? Tomorrow?

    She tries to kill time by tidying up Gabriel''s office. She has nowhere to go to, anyway. She doesn''t want to see Michelle, and she''s not sure if visiting Mary or chatting up Mrs. Gomez would be healthy for her soul. So she just holes up in Gab''s office, wiping clean everything with a scented wet wipe, doing it carefully, as though her very soul is contained in that wipe. But really, everything here is part of Gabriel''s daily existence, which makes them important to her, too. She''s so engrossed with what she''s doing that she doesn''t notice the passing of hours. So much that when the phone on Gabriel''s desk trills, she''s so surprised she almost throws the vase she''s holding.

    "Hello?" she breathes into the phone.

    "Goodness, you''re still there." It''s Gabriel, breathing hard. "I need you here, Claire. Quickly, please. I need you¡­" Then the line goes dead.

    Claire stares at the phone, wondering what just happened. And what''s going on with Gab?

 Chapter 112 - The Blackout

    Claire almost chokes on her panic. She stares at the phone in her hand. What in hell was that call about? She dials Gabriel''s number, but it only rings and rings. Jesus, what happened to him? Her hands have started to tremble as she dials Miguel''s number.

    "Hey, there," Miguel''s voice seems cold and distant, and there''s club music in the background. "What''s up, Claire? Boyfriend problems?"

    "Miguel, listen," she mutters. "Can you hurry over to Gabriel''s place? Like, now? Something strange happened."

    "What? What do you mean?"

    "He called me up. He sounded like he''s struggling to breathe. Then the line went dead, and I could not get hold of him anymore."

    "Jesus Christ," Miguel mutters. "But I''m outside the city. Might take me half an hour to get there. But I''m going there now. You go ahead. Call up his butler, that guy named Lopez? Or Dale. Anyone that can go to him the quickest."

    "Yes," is the only thing she manages to say. "Please hurry."

    She frantically dials Dale''s number, but five rings and no one''s answering. She tries calling up Lopez, who fortunately is on speed dial on Gabriel''s desk phone. She bites her lip as the phone rings seemingly endlessly. After five rings, Claire decides a lot of time has been wasted. She bolts out the room, grabs her bag and almost half-runs out of there, all the while the image of Gabriel sprawled on the floor with no one to help him flashing on her mind.

    She''s already in the lobby and about to walk out of the main doors when she realizes she hasn''t called up Dean, her chauffeur, who''s probably in some diner having coffee, waiting for her call.

    "Can I use your phone?" she says to the security officer manning the lobby''s reception.

    "Sure, Ma''am," the officer says.

    Calling up Dean wasted a few minutes, as his phone only rang and rang, and the only reason Claire patiently waited is the fact he''s the only way to reach Gabriel, and reach him fast. When Dean finally picks up, Claire almost yells at him. "The foyer, Dean, two seconds. Please hurry." She almost slams down the phone, earning her a curious gaze from the security officer.

    "Any trouble, Ma''am?"

    Only then does Claire realizes what a mess she is. She takes a deep breathe. What are the chances Gabriel is actually fine, or maybe his butler is already with him? "No trouble. Just¡­just need to see my¡­boss."

    "Oh," the security officer''s face lights up in recognition. "You''re Mr. Tan''s secretary! I should have realized it''s you. You must be the latest in his string of hot¡­err, I mean, beautiful secretaries."

    For a moment Claire is tempted to correct him. I''m the love of his life, not just his secretary, she wants to scream. But she takes a deep breath. And thankfully, her service Bentley screeches to a dramatic halt in front of the building. "Thank you for the call," she says to the security officer, before running out.

    "Gabriel''s place, and please get there the fastest without breaking any law."

    "Yes, Ma''am," the chauffeur says. "Did something happen?"

    "It''s Gabriel," she starts to say, but the worry building up in her heart makes her stop talking. She looks out the window. She wants to blame herself. She didn''t really have to go to the office today, did she? Those memos, she could have sent them tomorrow. Why did she have to leave him, alone, in his suite? Why did she ever believe in his outward show of strength and well-being? Now it turns out he''s not yet well at all. She should have known¡ªGabriel has always been like that, always "I''m fine, I''m cool." Remember when he confessed just the other day in the rain? The gigantic ego, with his "I rarely get sick I''m like Superman" bluster? Now this.

    Then she realizes they have not moved in minutes.

    "What''s the matter?"

    "It''s¡­" Dean, exasperated, gestures toward the scene in front of them: utter chaos. There''s an upcoming intersection, and vehicles both big and small are in disarray right in the middle of it. "It seems the stoplight is not working, and there''s no traffic enforcer in sight."

    "Can we try some alley, some shortcut, perhaps?"

    "There''s a small side road some twenty meters ahead," Dean says, "but it''s usually one-way only, and the traffic direction opposes us."

    "Oh, God," she mutters.

    "Maybe we can try," he says.

    "Please, Dean," she says, then hesitates if she really say it to him. "This is a matter of life and death. Gabriel could be fighting for his life at this moment."

    Dean''s eyes bulge out of their sockets. "What? THAT''s the emergency? Jesus. Let''s go!" As though a higher spirit has suddenly overtaken Dean''s whole being, he becomes aggressive, all his road politeness thrown out the window, banging the car horn like crazy at anyone in his path.

    They reach the side street, and he''s right¡ªit''s currently restricted to one direction, and one opposing them. Dean stops for a moment, probably calculating his chances. "I am going to break some laws, Ma''am, but I need you to promise me one thing."

    "Everything you need, you''ll get it," Claire almost shrieks.

    "You''ll pay for all the fines. I don''t want to spend a night in jail, please."

    "Done!" she says. "Let''s go!"

    Dean takes a deep breath. He just waits for the last vehicle to exit the side-street, then he rolls down his window, pulls something from the dashboard, and sticks it on the car roof. It''s an emergency light, flashing red and blue. "Now we''re an ambulance. And goddamnit, but I won''t let Mr. Tan down if his life depends on us reaching him pronto!"

    All the oncoming vehicles, seeing Dean''s lights, stop and try to get out of his way. "National emergency!" Dean screams out the window. "National emergency! Get out of the way."

    In the backseat, Claire is stunned¡ªshe never knew this side of Dean. He could really rise to the occasion whenever it has something to do with Gabriel. "Did Gabriel also save your life somehow?"

    "That''s right," Dean says, his eyes never leaving the road. "Saved me many times. Spent a lot of money just to save me, gave me new kidneys. Mr. Tan and me, we go a long way back," Dean says. "I would die for that man, Ma''am."

    Claire says nothing. Lucille, Dale, Dean, Mrs. Gomez¡ªthese people who work for Gabriel are deeply loyal to him, like he''s some kind of a "lord" or something. There is so much about Gabriel''s past that she still doesn''t know, but thankfully, whatever it is, it all seems good.

    "What the¡­" Dean mutters, slowing down as he takes a right to the main avenue.

    "What is it?"

    "Look outside, Ma''am," he says. "It''s all dark. The whole road is dark. The buildings are all dark. It seems the whole city is in a power blackout."

    Claire follows what Dean is pointing at, and her heart sinks. The city has no power, and the timing could not be worse. She''s now drowning in worry¡ªthe image of Gabriel sprawled on the floor in all this darkness flashes in her mind.

    And adding to this pile of clusterfuck, the darkness has made the traffic even worse.

    "How far are we still from Gab''s place?"

    "We''re about a couple of blocks, Ma''am."

    A couple of blocks. When she started working for Gabriel Tan, she used to walk eight blocks in the midday sun. "I''m going out," she says, opening the door.

    "Out, Ma''am?"

    "You take care and just get there when you can," she says, grabbing her bag. "I''m going to run. I''m not going to sit through this hellacious traffic and let Gabriel alone in there for a minute more."

    And just like that, she''s gone even before Dean could say a word.

 Chapter 113 - The Big-ass Surprise on the Fifty-ninth Floor

    All the worrying is making Claire lose her poise. People on the sidewalk use their phones as flashlight, and the light from the vehicles is some help. But she keeps stumbling and bumping into unseen things, but she holds on, focusing on what matters: over there, just more than a block away, is Gabriel''s residential tower, perhaps the tallest building in the city. If she could just reach that in time, before anything worse happens to him, she''d give him anything¡ªANYTHING¡ªhe''d want.

    She looks back; Dean is still stuck in that spot, the cars unmoving. Jesus, talk about wrong timing for a blackout to happen! Her heart is pounding in her ?h?st. Going against the rush-hour mob, Claire remembers how, just a few weeks ago, on her first day working for Gabriel, she walked these same streets looking for that darned Laundromat. She walked four blocks under the scorching heat of the sun, and yet, she managed to keep her composure¡ªeven when she bought the "wrong" coffee for Gab that made him throw it at her.

    She wonders now whatever happened to the Gabriel she initially encountered? Where''s that monstrosity now? It''s not only her that has noticed the seemingly huge change in the man''s behavior. He used to be so grumpy, often quick to snap at people. Didn''t Mrs. Gomez herself warn her of Gabriel''s eccentricities?

    Gabriel seemed to have begun changing ever since they had that talk in one of the bedrooms of his mansion. That morning before that unforgettable pool party, where she fought it out with Michelle in the pool like drunken high-school girls fighting over their "great catch" of a boyfriend.

    And what happened the other day, in the rain when Gabriel confessed his feelings, she would not have expected that, not in a million years!

    Gabriel has changed, and he has changed so fast. It didn''t even take the full thirty days in her contract. Gabriel began showing his true colors just a few days after working with her. Maybe he wasn''t so crazy after all? Maybe he was just misunderstood. Maybe people didn''t understand that Gabriel is only guarding his most treasured feelings, that he''s really emotionally vulnerable, that he''s just trying to hide it with putting on a show of ferocity. You know, like the apex predator that he is. Claire read in college that lions, for example, would hide their pain because showing weakness makes you an easy target for the other lions. So even if you''re wounded and hurting inside, you''d roar like nothing''s wrong in your world. Maybe Gabriel was such a lion¡ªthe leader of his pride, just trying to hide his deepest pain.

    But that temper, though¡ªClaire must admit that''s natural, Gabriel''s short temper. Sometimes, when he really loses it, he acts like a petulant child, like what he did just this morning.

    She wouldn''t have realized she''s already standing by the entrance to Gabriel''s tower if a passing (more like crawling) vehicle did not shine its headlights on the building''s gilded signage. And it''s dark, the lobby lit only by the installed emergency lights.

    "What happened here?" she asks the security guard at the lobby''s reception.

    The man shrugs. "Power just went out without warning. We got no word from the power company."

    Claire glances at the elevator up ahead. "So how do I reach the top?"

    "How do you mean ''the top''?"

    "The top. The penthouse suite. It''s an emergency. I''m Gabriel Tan''s fianc¨¦e."

    All right, readers, that last word mentioned by Claire, that''s significant. This is the first time she''s saying this as a real thing. Sure, she says this to the security officer just to emphasize the legitimacy of the reason why she must reach Gabriel, even in this situation. But this is also her first admission, to a stranger nonetheless, of her own acceptance, blurring out some gray areas in their so-called relationship in her own way.

    But that seems to fly by the security officer''s head. "You can take the stairs," he says matter-of-factly.

    "What? How many floors does this building have?"

    "Uhhh," the security officer checks and reads from a brochure. "Fifty-nine floors of incredible avant-garde architecture, Peak One luxury residential tower is a glittering jewel right in the heart of the city." He smiles.

    Claire gazes at him as though a ???kroach has just crawled out of his mouth. "You mean, I''m supposed to take the stairs all the way up to the fifty-ninth floor? Are you serious?"

    The man shrugs. "There''s no power, Ma''am. Elevators are not working. I would carry you on my back all the way up there, but I can''t leave this spot." He grins, as if to emphasize that he''s merely kidding.

    "Alright," Claire says, reading his name on the ?h?st patch. "Security officer Edgardo Santos, once I reach the fifty-ninth floor, I will let Gabriel Tan know of your help..."

    He says nothing, pretending to be looking at his logbook.

    "I can ?ssure you," she continues, "that tomorrow morning, you won''t have this job, anymore. You can''t have a job in any of Gabriel Tan''s businesses or affiliate companies. You''d be lucky if you get a new job at all." She glares at him before turning away. "Have a good evening."

    "H-hey," the guard stammers, trying to run after her. "Hey, Ma''am! Wait!"

    But Claire walks away quickly toward the stairwell beside the elevators. The security guard, out of breath, reaches her just before she opens the door to the stairs.

    "Wait, Ma''am," he breathes, "Wait, I didn''t mean¡­I think I know how to help you."

    Claire waits with that "make sure that''s actually good" facial expression. She waits until the security officer, who is overweight by countless pounds and now looks miserable, catches his breath. He''s red in the face so much that Claire regrets what she said. She didn''t really mean it, threatening this poor guy, who probably receives b?r?ly enough pay to support his family and what-not. But in the heat of the moment, she said that out of frustration. Maybe even after she climbed the staircase all the way to the fifty-ninth floor, she won''t even remember this officer, much less that she ever threatened him.

    "The service elevator actually works. It always works, even in emergencies such as this."

    "Really?"

    "Yes, Ma''am."

    "How does it work when everything else doesn''t?"

    "It runs on stored power, Ma''am. The outer walls of this building are covered with solar panels. The residents, especially Mr. Tan, don''t want the inconvenience of losing the lights even for a few minutes."

    Jesus, thank goodness, she thinks, but she doesn''t let him know how relieved she is. "Then let''s go!"

    "This way, Ma''am," he says, opening a side door that leads to a short walking space, wide enough to accommodate laundry trolleys. The service elevator is on the other side of the space. It''s already open when they arrive. "It seems to be expecting you, Ma''am," he says, trying to get on her good side.

    "Can you believe how wonderful this whole place is? Elevators that ''expect'' passengers!" she says, but the guard seems to not realize the sarcasm.

    It takes only a minute for the high-speed elevator to ascend all the way up to the top floor. When it opens to a dark hallway, the guard helpfully turns on his flashlight. "Is Mr. Tan really expecting you, Ma''am?"

    "He''s..." she stops¡ªhow does she describe what happened to Gabriel? She only realizes now that she doesn''t really know. "I think he''s in some kind of medical emergency. Can you open the door to his suite?"

    The guard must have shaken his head in the dark, as the only thing Claire could see is the jerky circle of brightness on the floor, thanks to his flashlight. "The building administrator''s the only one who carries all the duplicate keys, Ma''am. Sorry. Shall we go back down and get him?"

    She sighs. So much time has been wasted. They''re standing now in front of Gabriel''s door. "Can we just kick this door open? I think you can do it."

    "Destroy building property, Ma''am?" the guard''s voice quakes. "I can''t do it. I can''t¡­"

    He never finishes what he''s saying because Claire tries to turn the doorknob, and miraculously, the door creaks open.

    "Is he even here?" The guard whispers, tiptoeing beside Claire, pointing the flashlight as if it''s a gun.

    The suite is empty and dark. They check the bedroom, but no one''s there. They check everywhere. Nothing. Finally, the security guard says, "Isn''t this the penthouse suite? Doesn''t this have an open area, like a garden, right?"

    "I don''t know. You''re the one who should know."

    "Yeah, sorry. Maybe he''s there."

    Her heart pounds in her ?h?st. Maybe he''s there. Maybe he was there when he called her up. That''s where it must have happened. The image of Gabriel sprawled on the garden floor, amid whatever plants he has, flashes in her mind. Jesus, please, I hope I''m wrong. She tiptoes behind the guard, but before opening the door, he turns to her. "Perhaps you should open it, Ma''am."

    "Why me?"

    He shrugs. "You''re his fianc¨¦e."

    She wants to respond to that, but she keeps it inside. They''re here. She''s tired of arguing. She grabs the door, and slides it open.

    She promptly gets the shock of her life, as a hundred lights turn on and a familiar voice, one that she''s both relieved and hates to hear, says something that puts tears in her eyes. Claire stands there like a wilting flower, crying like a baby.

 Chapter 114 - The Candle-lit Dinner

    "Surprise!" Gabriel greets her and throws his arms around her.

    She''s so stunned and grateful and relieved and annoyed and she hates him so much right now for making her so frightened¡ªthat Claire crumbles from all her myriad emotions. She starts crying.

    She doesn''t notice the exquisite candle-lit dinner set up before them, or the string quartet in the corner, or the petals of red and white roses on the floor leading from the door to her chair by the dining table. All of that is lost on her, as she whimpers like a baby in Gabriel''s arms.

    "Please don''t frighten me like this again," she mutters. "I won''t be able stand it. If something actually happens to you, for real, I don''t know how I''d live through that."

    Gabriel hugs her even tighter. "It''s a prank, Claire!" He had been laughing but now that Claire''s crying seriously, he realizes he must have done it overboard. So he whispers, "I''m sorry. But I just wanted to surprise you."

    "I''m sorry too," she says.

    "For what?"

    "For earlier. This morning. When you had to walk out of my suite."

    "Oh, that," he says. "My walking out was a prank to your prank."

    "Really?"

    "Well, not really. But wasn''t it hilarious?"

    Claire sniffles. She looks around and notices the set-up for the first time. "What is this?"

    "This? I''d like us to have dinner by candlelight. But I have to thank Edgardo here for escorting you safely."

    "That''s nothing, sir. My p???sur?," the security guard says.

    Claire turns to the guard. "You knew all this time?"

    The guard shrugs. "Sorry."

    "I asked him to do this bit to make sure you don''t get lost in this darkness."

    "It''s odd that the city suddenly has this power outage," she says.

    "Actually, only the surrounding blocks. A small part of the power grid," he says.

    "How did you¡­" then she connects the dots. "You''re responsible for this? You ''caused'' the power outage? The streets were so dark, Gabriel! I had to walk and run and stumble on the way here. I thought you were¡­I thought you were dead."

    He hugs her again. "Sorry," he whispers. "But I thought it would be funny and sweet at the same time. I didn''t really think through about this plan. I''m an idiot, you know."

    "So you caused this part of the city to go dark just so this¡ª"

    "¡ªThis candle-lit dinner will truly be worth it," he says sheepishly. "Aside from the amazing food flown in, courtesy of Wolfgang Puck."

    She sighs. "That''s so irresponsible, Gabriel."

    "I''m sorry," Gabriel says firmly, "But I''ll send my people throughout this block later, and if there''s any trouble or complaint arising from this power outage, then I will compensate them."

    "It''s not always about the money," she says.

    "Well, sometimes it is." He takes a deep breath, and glances at the table. "I''m sorry. I think I may have gone overboard. I really just wanted this to be memorable."

    "Memorable in a traumatic way, Gab."

    "I''m sorry," he says. "But can we at least eat something? Can we sit down? We''ve been through so much these past few days. We deserve a little indulgence."

    "Okay," she says, allowing Gabriel to lead her toward the table. He helps her take her seat, like a true gentleman (that is, if you can forget the fact that he just made her girl walk two blocks through the half-darkness). And as if on cue, the string quartet starts playing some romantic tune.

    "That gave me goose bumps," she says, smiling now.

    "It''s all for you, Claire," he says. "I hope you''re happy."

    She says nothing. She wants to say, yes, I''m deliriously happy. But five minutes ago, she was all sweaty and arguing with the security guard about the existence of a working elevator. This was a prank, a surprise that has a left a sour taste in her mouth. But she gazes at him across the table, with the aroma of good food wafting through their nostrils, with his pleading eyes, in her heart the knowledge that this man isn''t known to do something like this to anyone¡ªit''s hard not to give in to the moment and just let the happiness wash over her.

    "If I can forget all the hardships, then I''d be happy," she says.

    "Come on, just now," he says. "Let''s forget everything else. Let''s be a bit selfish, just this once, Claire. Just this once."

    She gazes at him. "Okay."

    Gabriel flicks a finger, and a uniformed server arrives with a trolley of food. He starts meticulously putting on the table every covered dish.

    "I didn''t bother about serving this as a formal multi-course dinner," he says. "I hope you don''t mind."

    "These smell absolutely scrumptious, Gab!" she says, her mouth watering.

    "I had to ask Wolfgang a very special favor for this," he says, smiling.

    "Do you mean THE Wolfgang Puck? The famous chef?"

    He nods. "I wanted to surprise you with a feast of the dishes that made Wolfgang famous. He''s my consultant in a number of restaurants I own in the French Riviera. A good friend, too. When I explained to him what this feast would mean to me, he dropped everything and went to work. Good thing he''s just in nearby Hong Kong, attending some business with a new restaurant. It was easy to fly these in within minutes after Wolfgang cooked them."

    "Oh, my God," Claire mutters, uncovering one dish after another. She does so almost reverentially, as though the food are holy relics of some saint. "My mother adores Wolfgang Puck. She loves his chicken salad."

    "I know." Gabriel laughs, gazing at her with meaning. "Everything''s here. The famous Lobster Cobb salad, the chicken salad, the angel-hair pasta with goat cheese and thyme, the Grand Marnier souffl¨¦, the salmon with sorrel. Everything. Then we can finish these off with wild strawberries and vanilla ice cream, which they''d serve later because, you know, ice cream melts."

    Claire gets a spoonful of the soup and her eyes close, savoring it. "Jesus. And this is just the soup."

    He smiles, watching her. "Are you happy now?"

    "Just a little bit," she says, giggling. It seems whatever she went through just to get here, it''s all forgotten.

    Claire''s ears perk up upon hearing the music. "Oh, that''s familiar. I know that song."

    "It''s from ''Phantom of the Opera''."

    And as if on cue, a gentleman walks out of a door and begins singing to the music.

    No more talk of darkness

    Forget these wide-eyed fears

    I''m here, nothing can harm you

    My words will warm and calm you

    Gabriel stands up, takes her hand. Claire hesitates, but she relents. She lets Gabriel take the lead, as they sway gently to the music. He even begins singing along to the second stanza.

    Let me be your freedom

    I''m here, with you, beside you

    To guard you and to guide you

    Claire gazes in his eyes as they sway. She, too, begins singing along with him in a duet that''s surprisingly good. Even the gentleman, the official singer, stops singing and allows them to finish it.

    Say you love me every waking moment

    Turn my head with talk of summertime

    Say you need me with you now and always

    Promise me that all you say is true

    That''s all I ask of you

    Claire closes his eyes and rests her head on his shoulder. Gabriel breathes in the scent of her hair and closes his eyes, too, dreaming of the blissful days ahead, as the quartet reaches the most emotional part of the music.

    "I''m sorry, Claire. All these stupid pranks stop from now on. We''ll have fun, but in a different way."

    "Don''t frighten me again, please," she says.

    "I promise."

    He stops and tilts up her chin, gazing into her eyes. He kisses her, gently, but full of longing. He tastes her, and in his mind, her lips are a million times more heavenly than all that scrumptious feast on the table.

    And they would have gone like that forever, if only the door didn''t crash open, and out comes Miguel, saying, "What happened to my bro¡ª"

    But he stops in his tracks, stunned, gawking at the scene of Gabriel kissing Claire in the middle of that garden.

 Chapter 115 - The Brothers Keeper

    Miguel had come rushing up the tower, thinking Gabriel might be seriously ill, that his brother might be on the throes of death. He nearly smashed into an oncoming truck on the way here, all because he was madly worried. He knew Claire would not have called him up if it was not utterly urgent¡ªshe would avoid having to speak with him, he knew that now. He had expected to find medical personnel, paramedics when he pushes open the doors.

    But this.

    What stuns Miguel is seeing the complete opposite of what he fully expected. The romantic setup that only Gabriel could think of. He had seen her kiss him, but just a smack on the lips, and somehow it had given him the illusion that things were not yet final, that the ship had not completely sailed away. And somehow, living in denial, Miguel had been able to control his own despair, no matter how flimsy that control had been.

    But he opened that door and he beheld the most heartbreaking sight.

    "Miguel?" Gab says, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

    Claire is so surprised, too. "I¡­I called him up."

    "For what?"

    "I thought you were dead," Miguel says, walking towards them, smiling a joyless smile. "Claire called me up."

    "When I thought something happened to you, I called him up," Claire mutters. "I called up everyone."

    "Oh," is the only thing Gabriel manages to say.

    "I came here to save a brother, but I find a feast," Miguel says, looking at the table. "A feast in more ways than one."

    "I''m fine, Migs. I''m sorry I¡­I was playing a prank on her."

    Miguel takes a piece of sliced fruit from the table and tosses it into his mouth. "A prank? She was so frightened, man. You should have seen her, heard her voice. Edgardo, the guard downstairs, said she stumbled into the building''s lobby in full panic, apparently after having walked a few miles on the way here."

    Gabriel gives Claire a hangdog look.

    "It''s¡­It''s fine, Miguel," Claire says. "He only did that to surprise¡ª"

    "And I," Miguel says, sitting by the table. "I left a party in a mad rush just to get here. I was with good people. I was talking with a woman, a beautiful woman, who was such a delightful distraction from the loneliness of my days. Because distraction is what I need most, Gab. I need distraction. I need to stop thinking about that woman in your arms." He pauses, gazing at her. "You know where I''m coming from. You now know why it has been hard. But the moment I get just a little chance of forgetting about her, if only for one night, this happens. I''m yanked out of that little distraction because I thought I must save you. We all must save you. But it turns out, we''re all pawns in your little games, Gab."

    Gabriel says nothing. He just gazes at his brother. Only now he understands the depth of his brother''s feelings for Claire. He didn''t really know. He thought she''d just be one of Miguel''s fancies, another of his many conquests. But Miguel''s honesty here seems too much to bear. "I''m really sorry, Migs. I wanted to surprise her with this dinner."

    "Yeah, fancy dinner," Miguel says. He uncovers a dish. "Oh, shit, is this Lobster Cobb salad?" He takes a morsel with his b?r? hand and shoves it into his mouth. He chews the food for a while, eating as though there''s no one else but him. "Must be worthy of all the trouble. I really hope you''ve made her happy, brother."

    Miguel stands up. He sighs. "Congratulations to the both of you. May you live happily ever after." He gazes at her for a moment, then he walks away.

    Claire tries to run after him, but Gabriel holds her back. "Let me talk to him. This is all my fault. I''m the big idiot. I didn''t really think through this¡­this dinner."

    He follows Miguel into the suite, but finds no one. "Migs?" he calls out in the darkness; the power has not come back yet, as it''s supposed to last two full hours. "Migs?"

    But Miguel''s not there.

    He returns to the garden and finds Claire deep in thought, sitting by the table, gazing sadly at the otherwise festive spread, alone. The musicians are long gone; they had bounced the moment Miguel appeared. Now, what''s supposedly a romantic setup seems a most heartbreaking sight; the candles even flicker in the evening breeze, commiserating.

    "He''s gone," he says, running his hand through his hair.

    "I''m sorry I called him up. I was in a panic," she says, standing up to face him.

    "Anyone who loved me would call up my brother," he says. "This is on me. I didn''t realize the implications of my little stunt. I was living in a bubble, you know. Like we''re the only people in the world, and this entire world is our playroom. Like I forgot about other people''s feelings. There''s no one else in my mind but you, and everything else¡ªmy stature, my responsibilities for my businesses, everything¡ªseems unnecessary things that only get in the way. That''s why I tend to make these spot decisions." He sighs. "I''ll make up for it. I''ll pay him a visit tomorrow, have an earnest talk. I can''t talk to him now. It might only lead to something we both don''t want to happen."

    She says nothing; she just gazes in his eyes.

    "I''m sorry," he says. "I''m a fool in love."

    "I''m a fool, too," she says. "Maybe more than a fool."

    They lock in a desperate embrace. He doesn''t kiss her; he just wants to feel that she''s there, warm and real, that they''re together on this night on the rooftop of the city''s tallest skyscraper. Here, it''s so easy to give in to the illusion that there''s only the two of them in the entire universe; an illusion he loves surrendering to.

    "Look," he says, pointing to the evening sky. "It''s full moon."

    "It''s beautiful," she says. "And look down there. The power''s still out."

    Down on the city''s streets, only the headlights from passing cars give illumination; the buildings are all still dark, save for a few occasional lighted windows.

    "Well, the power should¡­" Gabriel looks at his wristwatch. "It should return any minute now."

    As if on cue, the buildings around them suddenly light up; the huge billboard blinks to life in front of them, advertising a new TV series on Netflix.

    "You say things and it happens!" she says. "You''re such a lucky guy." But she''s really thinking about these happy coincidences, not about Gabriel''s life in general.

    "Yes, I am," he says, looking at her. "I am." But he''s really thinking of how lucky he is for finding her. And how, if he could have his way, he doesn''t want this night to ever end.

 Chapter 116 - The Complication

    It''s already late in the morning but Claire doesn''t feel like working. Gabriel isn''t going to the office for the rest of the week¡ªhe has to respect the needs of his body to recuperate. The medicines need a compliant patient to work their potency, and Gabriel running about town would make it harder for everybody. Moreover, she insisted that he takes it easy¡ªshe''d visit him every day at his place, so there''s nothing to worry about anything. In the end, he agreed.

    Every so often, as she sits at her desk trying to do some market research on an area of business Gabriel intends to explore, she finds herself daydreaming about last night. Last night was magical. They spent the hours just talking¡ªshe talked about her childhood in a sleepy suburban town down south, while he spoke about how it was to live under the thumb of Matilde Tan, his mother. Matilde''s husband, Eduardo, it turned out, left them for another woman, whose name Matilde would not mention. It was only proof of Matilde''s own fortitude that despite the tragedy of losing her supposed lifelong partner, she was able to move on¡ªshe had two very young kids to feed and whose future she needed to protect. As it happened, she did not only succeed in raising them, but she also managed to grow a business empire to unthinkable heights.

    Matilde''s temper and her way of raising them created two different personalities¡ªwhile Miguel was the younger one, he was more protective of his elder brother; while Gabriel, getting some of his temper from his mother, was more eccentric and seemed frequently in need of saving. And the eccentric one, as Claire realized, is the one she''s got. That''s perfectly fine, as it is¡ªas her mom always says, "the heart wants what the heart wants, and there''s no getting around that."

    Gabriel didn''t even attempt to do anything naughty last night; he just held her hand as they talked, watching the city''s bright lights from the rooftop garden. He seemed content with it. At one point, when the talk veered towards her contract, she''s quick to remind him about it.

    "In more than a week, Gab, my employment with you would expire," she said, watching his reaction.

    He merely laughed it off. "Consider that contract a tired old joke. I merely invented it."

    "What?"

    "Didn''t you read Mrs. Gomez''s reaction? That was pure theater. There was no ''red contract.'' She merely quickly printed it out of some website."

    "But it looked genuine."

    He shrugged. "Credit it to Mrs. Gomez''s ingenuity. She''s not really a receptionist. She''s my guardian angel. With the money I pay her, she could have retired many years ago. She could be spending her time in some tropical paradise, far away from the mess that was my life. But no. She insisted in serving me, and watching my back. And she''s the only person who could read my ''secret instructions'' by the way I wink at her."

    "I never realized that!"

    "Don''t you remember anything on your first day?"

    She shook her head.

    "She knew I was immediately into you," he said. "Everything that happened when I interviewed you was, how do I put it, spontaneous."

    She stopped then, and gazed at him. "Do you mean I have no red contract? I don''t get any salary?"

    He pinched her playfully on the cheek. "Do you still need a salary? You get everything I have. I''ll give you a very generous allowance, you just say it."

    "I don''t want that, Gab. I want to work for my money," she said. "Like a regular person. I want to work with you. Let''s continue this arrangement, but I get the kind of pay my position deserves."

    He looked at her. "You know that there''s no standard salary for an executive ?ssistant as far as I''m concerned. I can give you a hundred times the regular salary."

    She squirmed. She doesn''t like it when they talk about money like this. Well, that was okay before things got real; now, she didn''t want to feel as if she''s in it only for the wealth. "I''m not interested in your money, Gab. When I agreed to our deal, that was only for me to survive the month without having to go back to my mother. I didn''t want to disappoint her, so I took on your offer even if I thought that was the oddest thing I had heard in my life." She stopped, fiddling with her thumb. "What about I propose a new deal?"

    "Shoot," he said.

    "I''ll continue working as Bella, as your executive ?ssistant, but I want to know the business side of things. I have a degree. I know my way around things. I should be given more credit."

    Gabriel smiled. "You have all my support."

    "Thank you," she says. "Now when do you release my pay for this month?"

    Claire smiles at the memory. She''s actually looking forward to tonight, as she''d visit Gab again in his place. Maybe she''ll cook something for him. Perhaps one of her mom''s specialties, the Carolina Fried Chicken. She''s sure she''d go crazy about it.

    The desk phone trills and she answers it even before the third ring ends.

    "Hey, how are you?" the voice says on the other end, which she recognizes immediately to be Miguel.

    "Hey," she says, feeling suddenly awkward. "I''m sorry about last night."

    "It''s Gabriel who should be sorry."

    "He''s deeply sorry, too. He tried to catch up with you but you were gone."

    Miguel grunts. "He''s been calling me up, but I don''t feel like answering."

    "You should. You know your brother. He didn''t even realize you''d be involved in his surprise. It was my fault."

    "It can''t be your fault if you did that just because you cared about him," he says. "We all care about him. We just spent a night at the hospital when he was sick. We were there for him."

    "I''m sorry, Migs. What happened last night was so complicated and unexpected and just what you can expect from Gabriel. You, of all people, know that."

    "All right," he says. "Maybe I''d accept that it''s your fault, Claire, that my night got ruined."

    "Okay," she mutters, sensing warily the direction of this talk. "What do you want? What kind of apology would make it less regretful?"

    "Let''s meet tonight," he says. "Just over a few drinks."

    She sighs. "Miguel, you know I can''t do that. I can''t date anymore. I''m with him."

    "Who says it''s a date? Can''t friends have a little night cap? After all, if all goes well with you and Gab, maybe you''d finally become the sister-in-law I''ve been waiting for."

    "But what''s the point? Why do we have to meet? We can meet later at Gab''s place, that would be a lot better."

    "I don''t yet feel like seeing him," he says. "Come on. I''d just like to see you. It would be just a few drinks."

    "Miguel, I¡­"

    "What if this would be the very last time you''d be seeing me?" he says, his tone dark. "Would you finally agree to see me?"

    "Don''t be like that, you¡ª"

    "I''ll pick you up at six, Claire. And I promise, after tonight, you will never ever see me again."

    He hangs up.

    Claire sits there, unable to put down the phone. She gazes at the wall clock. It''s still just morning. It''s still a long way from the time Miguel has set, but already she feels like the walls are closing in.

 Chapter 117 - The Diversion

    The desperation, the intensity in Miguel''s voice gives Claire the screaming mimies. There''s something about it that she couldn''t put a finger on, but it''s odd.

    She holds up the phone and dials another number.

    "Gab, Miguel called me up!"

    "Hey," Gabriel''s voice on the other end suggests she probably just woke him up. "And good morning to you, too."

    "Sorry. But I am freaking out."

    "What''s the matter?"

    "It''s your brother," she says, weighing her words. "He wants to meet with me and talk to me about something gravely important."

    "Hmmm. I''ve been trying to call him. He doesn''t answer. He''s still pissed about last night."

    "I think it''s more than that." She sighs. "You know that he''s somehow into me, right?"

    "Yeah."

    "And now he''s acting a bit¡­different."

    Gabriel sighs. "Alright, don''t worry about him. Let me worry about him. I''ve been trying to reach him but you know what they say about people who don''t want to be reached out to? Maybe I''ll pay him a visit."

    "Can you go to him now?"

    He groans. "Oh, I''m not sure if now is a good time. I''m still in an online conference with my people. A lot of problems seem to be coming out of the woodwork."

    "Okay," she says, not really okay, thinking about how to deflect Miguel''s neediness.

    "Just tell him you can''t go to the meet-up, okay? I know my brother. He''ll accept it like a man."

    But he doesn''t, she wants to say to him. Instead, all that comes out of her mouth is, "Sure."

    "Have to get online now, Claire. I''ll see you tonight?"

    She tries her best to put a smile in her voice. "I''ll be there."

    On any given day, she would be thrilled, inspired to get through the day because at the end of it, she will spend time with Gab. But there''s a lot of awkwardness that gets in the way between now and tonight, and at the center of it is Miguel. What happened to him? He seems to have been spiraling down, hard. Where''s the suave, cool, confident man she first met a few weeks ago? Where''s the savior of damsels in distress?

    Try as she might, she couldn''t focus on work. Today is the first day she''s supposed to craft a business strategy for one of Gabriel''s companies, a task she asked for and given quietly. She''s no longer just the executive ?ssistant, as that role is merely play-acting. She''s getting her hands in the core strategies of his business. And finally, she''s no longer a fish out of the water¡ªshe''s well comfortable in this real role. What''s more, the unspoken disposition is, of course, Gabriel''s relationship with her is for the long term, and if that''s the case, then she must be well-versed in the business, too.

    But this thing with Miguel, it has been getting more and more awkward. For him to ask her out, even in the pretense of some "talking over," borders on subversion¡ªhe very well knows she''s already with Gabriel, and no matter what happens, she won''t break his trust.

    "Are you watching something shocking?"

    It''s Mary, who has been by her desk for a few minutes and she didn''t even notice her.

    "Oh, sorry," she says, as if waking up from reverie. "I''m just¡­"

    "You''ve been staring at your computer screen like you''re watching a train wreck happen in action." Mary grins. She has no idea how uncannily accurate she is about the train wreck metaphor.

    "I''m¡­" Claire sighs. She looks around to check if Michelle or her possible minions are within hearing distance. "I''m in a sort of dilemma."

    "Oh," Mary titters. "That must be juicy. Is it an office romance? Did Jake Magno try to contact you again? Did someone break up with you? Spill it out!"

    Claire gazes at her, trying to decide if this is good, confessing to her office colleague something as s?ns?t?v? as this. But her heart wants to burst out of her ?h?st from all these feelings that she''s dying to have someone listen to her. "Mary, it''s about Mi¡ªI mean, there''s a man who wants to meet up with me tonight. This is a decent man, a good catch, but I don''t want him. He keeps insisting on showing up here, so we can go somewhere else to talk. Only to talk. But I''ve kept telling him there''s no future for us, that he should focus his attention to someone else. And yet¡­"

    "And yet he insists?" Mary gazes at her thoughtfully. "I''m not sure if I''m the right person to ask because I''ve never had that kind of problem before." She laughs. "My usual dilemma is the exact opposite of that. Nobody wants to date me. So¡­"

    Claire holds her head in frustration, like it''s about to fall. "I don''t know what to do. Even if I say no, I''m afraid he would keep on insisting. And I''m afraid I might be too weak-willed to stand my ground and say no. I might be persuaded, maybe out of pity or compassion. But I know that''s wrong. But still. What do I do?"

    "But why not just give this guy a chance? Who knows if you end up eventually liking him? As you said, he''s a good catch."

    Claire gazes at her. "But I''m already committed to someone else, Mary. I can''t do something like that."

    "Oh, my gosh! Is it true?" Mary almost throws her arms around her if not for the computer that stands in their way. "You''re so lucky! You have actual red-blooded men in your life! Unlike women like myself. I''ve never had a boyfriend. I think I''ll just continue spending my life alone, doing nothing but washing my genitals, then eventually die. Nobody likes me."

    Now it becomes about Mary. "Don''t talk like that. I''m sure someone out there is meant for you. I also didn''t have a good boyfriend, a decent boyfriend, for years before this one."

    "Have I seen him? Your boyfriend, that is."

    Claire hesitates. "I don''t think so." She can only offer her half-truths¡ªmaybe in due time, but not now. Mary learning about Gabriel might complicate things too much, too early.

    "Well, let me meet him some time and I''ll discern what kind of person he is," Mary says.

    "He''s fine. He''s a bit crazy, but deeply lovable when you get to know him," she says.

    "Crazy? That''s a red flag. You know our boss here, Gabriel Tan? That''s the template of a guy you should avoid taking seriously." Mary laughs. "Or you might end up babysitting your boyfriend''s ego for the rest of your life."

    "Oh, no," Claire says, "My actual boyfriend is so far from Gabriel Tan." Ouch, her heart says. "He''s funny and sweet and full of surprises."

    "Attagirl! I just wish I could find someone, too."

    "You''ll see. He will come when you least expect him."

    Mary smiles. "Did you say your unwanted suitor is coming over tonight?"

    Claire nods.

    "Well, the only thing you can do is face the music. Stand your ground. Wait for him, tell it to his face that there is plenty of fish in the ocean, and if he could have the good graces to turn his attention to someone else, you''d be so grateful. Grateful for the peace of mind."

    Claire says nothing.

    "Otherwise," Mary continues, "he''s going to continue being a headache. And that might affect your real relationship. And before you know it, your real relationship suffers, and your true boyfriend is breaking up with you because you were never fully present for him."

    "How come you know so much about these things?"

    Mary shrugs. "I read a lot of romances on . You should try it, some time. So much fun!"

    "Okay."

    After Mary leaves, Claire is reduced to watching the hours tick by. She vacillates between courage and cowardice. One moment, she''s firm about facing Miguel when he comes, the next moment she just wants to add more bullshit to this story. By five, right on the dot, her deskphone rings.

    "Hey, darling," says the raspy voice. It''s Mrs. Gomez at the reception. "Your future brother-in-law is here waiting for you. Should I let him in?"

    "Oh, my God!" Claire panics, her mind whites out. "No, don''t. Tell him I''m already out. Early out, please tell him¡­''"

    "Really? But¡ª"

    Mrs. Gomez doesn''t finish talking, as Claire almost slams down the phone. She grabs her bag as she hears some commotion brewing by the entrance hall. She''s about to run out, but she hears Miguel''s angry voice, arguing with somebody, so she slips into a sideroom just in the nick of time. Miguel appears, with a scowl on his face.

    Claire opens the door a little to take a peep. Miguel is disconcerted that she''s not at her desk. He yells at a staff, asking about her whereabouts. Nobody could give him an answer, which only adds to his frustration. He seems disheveled, confused, angry.

    Carefully, Claire closes the door, feeling rotten inside. She should just face him. But then people would hear everything corny he might say, and that''s that.

    "Oh, Bella! I''m glad you came!"

    Claire turns around and her mouth drops open: the "sideroom" turns out to be the auxiliary office pantry, and a group of her officemates stand around a table, slicing a cake. The person in charge of slicing it is currently holding the breadknife aloft, as they are all looking at her, confused about her presence.

    And Mary''s standing by her, holding an empty paper plate. She grins. "We''re giving Arlene a little birthday cake surprise. I thought you had left already!" She hands Claire a paper plate. "Welcome to the party!"

    "Welcome," the group around the table mutter awkwardly. Claire knows no one in that group.

    Outside, they could hear Miguel''s voice yelling, "Where is Bella?" over and over.

    "Who''s that?" Mary says, as she tries to open the door.

    Claire''s heart jumps in her throat, as she grabs Mary''s arm, hoping it''s not too late, wishing she could run away from this place, with nothing but the paper plate to cover her entire identity.

 Chapter 118 - The White Cake

    "Don''t open it," Claire mutters, holding Mary''s arm desperately.

    "But who is it?"

    There''s no point in hesitating. The cat''s out of the bag now. "It''s Miguel."

    "Miguel?" Mary blinks. "THE Miguel Tan?"

    Claire nods. Outside, they can still hear him talking loudly, saying out her name. Good thing Miguel still has the good sense to look for "Bella" and not Claire, because that would have been another layer of complication.

    "Oh, gosh. Is he the ''unwanted'' suitor?"

    Claire nods. By the table, the group celebrating Arlene''s birthday have started partaking of the cake, and they look like they have been itching about discussing office gossip, but Claire''s presence cramps their style.

    "Are you insane, Bella Xavier?" Mary screeches while trying to keep her voice down. "This is Miguel Tan! How in the world is he an ''unwanted suitor''?"

    "It''s¡­It''s complicated."

    "God, there''s only one string to untangle. Break up with that nobody boyfriend of yours and hook up with Miguel. Miguel is THE catch. There''s no question about it. I don''t understand the hesitation."

    Claire sighs. Should she tell her it''s Gabriel who''s in the other end of the equation? Maybe not a good idea. Not now. "It''s not easy to tell the heart what it should want, Mary," she says. "But I love my boyfriend, and I can''t choose Miguel over him just because Miguel has these irresistible qualities that make women swoon." Sure, but if you tell her the other guy is Gabriel, then this would make sense, the other half of her brain snaps at her.

    Mary gazes at her like her head has just exploded. By now the hallway outside seems to have quieted down. "The heart wants what it wants? Then I don''t understand what your heart wants."

    "Sorry, let''s just¡­Let''s just wait here. I don''t want to face him."

    "Can''t you reject him to his face?"

    "I did¡­over the phone, or something like that."

    "And?"

    "And he doesn''t listen."

    "This boggles the mind," Mary says. "Miguel Tan behaving this way? This doesn''t sound like him."

    "I know, right?"

    "Is he on drugs?"

    "I don''t think so."

    "Cake?" a woman from the group thrusts a paper plate brimming with a huge chunk of white cake.

    "Thanks, but I''m good," says Claire.

    "I''m famished," Mary says, taking the cake, and scoops the icing with her b?r? fingers. "Thank you, Arlene! Happy birthday!"

    Arlene smiles, then recoils back to her group.

    Claire opens the door the tiniest bit. The coast seems clear. Miguel''s no longer in sight.

    "Is he gone?" Mary asks, chomping on cake. "Is the biggest catch you could have had in your life, gone?"

    Claire ignores the remark. "He''s gone." She sighs. But she doesn''t feel relieved. She feels like choking on this thing. Like the walls are closing in, and she''s stuck in the middle. She opens the door and sticks out her head to look. Yes, he''s really gone. Somehow, Miguel still has the good sense to not cause a scandal. Because, really, what is he thinking? It''s not like she betrayed him or anything like that. And it''s not like he''s an idiot who could not understand what she has been saying. Did she string him along? No, she never did. But here Miguel acts like the walking wounded.

    "Thanks, Mary," she says, leaving the room.

    "But Bella¡ª" Mary says, but her words are cut as Claire closes the door behind her.

    She checks Gabriel''s room, which looks fine. She checks her desk to see if Miguel left something. But everything seems in order. She turns around and almost screams in horror. Mrs. Gomez is standing there, judgment on her face.

    "What seems to be the matter with Miguel Tan?"

    "That''s what I want to know, too," Claire says.

    Mrs. Gomez makes a face. She looks around as she drags Claire inside Gabriel''s office to talk in private. "What is wrong with you, girl?" she scream-whispers.

    Claire looks at her. "With due respect, Mrs. Gomez, but you''re asking the right question to the wrong person," she says. "You should have asked that to Miguel when he was here screaming like a wounded gorilla?"

    "A wounded, good-looking, and ultra-rich gorilla, is what you probably mean."

    "I don''t care about any of that."

    "Because you have the better, richer gorilla, is it?"

    "Are you my enemy, Mrs. Gomez?"

    "Oh, I''m no one''s enemy, Claire. I''m just trying to make sense of this, while trying to help you have your shit together." Mrs. Gomez paces the room, her arms folded in her ?h?st as though this was a war room and they''re discussing military tactics. "Remember, I was your fairy godmother, although I didn''t look like it and my actions were far from being godmotherly. But I was. I helped you out, even if you didn''t realize it. And now this thing with Miguel, this is getting messy. You should stop this now."

    Claire sighs in exasperation. "But how?"

    Mrs. Gomez walks toward the glass wall, looking out the city. "There are a few things you have to learn about being an ?du?t, Claire," she says. "The first is how to hurt people''s feelings."

    "I''m sorry?"

    "You''ve heard me right. I said hurt him."

    "How do I do that?"

    "Tell it to his face."

    "But that''s what I''ve been doing!"

    "Tell it to his face in the most hurtful way possible," Mrs. Gomez says. "Because if you don''t and you don''t shock Miguel out of his ongoing funk, then there is going to be ruination, and you''ll be in the middle of it."

    "Jesus," Claire mutters. "I don''t understand why I have these impossible problems."

    "Claire, your problems are problems of a beauty queen. So don''t talk like you''re at the bottom of the food chain. Your problem is a problem of the privileged. People who have real problems will laugh at you."

    Claire says nothing. She looks at Mrs. Gomez, she whose sense of certainty has earned the respect of the likes of Gabriel Tan. She''s certain Mrs. Gomez is right, she just couldn''t quite accept all the hard feelings she must face to do what must be done.

    "But Miguel was fine. She used to be fine, until¡­ I don''t know¡­"

    "Until he saw your beautiful vulnerability, Claire," Mrs. Gomez says. "Miguel is a knight in shining armor. He always saves people. But unlucky for him he fell for you. Right now his heart and mind are in a tunnel, and he''s not seeing what he should see. All he sees is your face at the end of that tunnel, and all he wants is to possess you. He may be a bit better than Gabriel, but he''s a Tan, after all, so expect this craziness."

    "But this is too hard."

    "Nothing is too hard when it comes to the truth." Mrs. Gomez smiles. "At least hold on to that. The simple fact that you''ll be telling him the truth. That when you say ''I don''t care about you at all'', you''re not really lying."

    But there''s the trouble. Claire cares about Miguel, but only as a friend, a good friend. She couldn''t bring herself to be cruel to him. Just yesterday morning she cooked for him, and she did that with love¡ªlove for Gabriel''s brother.

    But then again, there''s the matter of things getting out of hand. People are talking now. They wonder why the boss''s usually respectable brother is acting like a crazy person. And if she doesn''t find a way to knock some sense into Miguel''s head, then who knows what could happen?

    "Think about it," Mrs. Gomez says, leaving. "Think about it long and hard."

    If only things are easier. If only she could command herself to do things without her feelings. If only.

    She feels so tired she almost doesn''t have the strength to even press the elevator bu??on. Ground Floor. Dean, her chauffer, must be at the lobby reception now, eager to please. She wonders where Miguel is right now¡ªwhere would he go? What if she does agree to meet up with him? For the last time, he said. Maybe that''s actually the right thing to do. All these bad things will go away if she could only do that one last thing.

    The elevator door dings as it opens to a darkened lobby. And out of that darkness, a voice says, "Bella. Or Claire. Which is it? What is the truth?"

 Chapter 119 - The Voice from the Darkness

    His voice shocks the beejesus out of her. She squints in the half-darkness. "Miguel?"

    Miguel steps into the light, his face drooping with indescribable sadness. "What is it, Claire? Why are you doing this to me?"

    Claire gazes at him, steeling her resolve. She feels something, a sense of danger. Sure, this is Miguel Tan, a normally level-headed person. But he seems different now. He seems in so much pain, and she only has an inkling of why it is so. And yet, she can''t do anything about it. She can''t give in to this show of pain or sadness or whatever this is. Gabriel''s love is at stake, and she would never want to compromise that.

    "I don''t understand, Miguel," she mutters. "I already made it clear so many times. I didn''t want to hurt you, but you''re doing this. You''re the one who''s hurting yourself. You know I''m¡­I''m in love with Gab."

    Miguel scoffs. "But you only just met. You can''t possibly be so in love with him? Less than four weeks and you''re already so in love with the man who initially hired you to pose as his fake fianc¨¦e."

    "Are you hearing what you''re saying?" Claire''s voice quakes with emotion. "You''ve only just met me, too, do you even realize that? And yet, here you are, telling me these things. That''s what love is, Migs. It''s hard to understand, to fathom. How can you belittle my love for your brother, while ignoring the fact of your own infatuation?"

    "Infatuation? You call this infatuation?" There''s hurt in Miguel''s voice.

    She shrugs. "I don''t know. Maybe. Maybe you''re behaving like this because of all the women who are chasing you, the table has turned when it comes to me. Perhaps because I''m the only one who couldn''t return what you offer."

    Miguel steps closer. Claire recoils, expecting the worst.

    "You have no idea, Claire, what you''re doing to me," he mutters. His face is so close to her face that she could smell his liquor-tinged breath. "You''re driving me crazy. How can you not like me? How can you not want what a million other girls are dying to experience? I can make you deliriously happy, Claire. If you let me have you for a single night, just one night, I ?ssure you, you will never ever forget me."

    Claire takes a few steps back. "Stop it. Do you even remember who I am? I''m your brother''s fianc¨¦e¡ª"

    "How could I forget the fake fianc¨¦e?"

    "It''s not¡­ It''s different now."

    "Oh, really?" Miguel scoffs. "Then why are you called Bella at the office? Why the deception? Why all this play-acting? Did you really think it''s going to work in the long run?" Miguel''s eyes glimmer with resentment. "My brother is just playing. He''s just trying to rebound from his heartache. He''s just using you, Claire. Wake up. I''m the one who truly loves you."

    "Stop it."

    "I''m not doing anything. I''m just saying the truth."

    Tears peep out of her eyes. "But everything you say is just malicious. How can you do this to your own brother?"

    Miguel says nothing; he just keeps gazing at her, his eyes bright with d?s?r?. He steps closer.

    "Don''t," Claire says, her voice rising in pitch. "Whatever you''re thinking, just don''t. And look around you. We''re in the lobby of this building. This building owned by your brother. Are you really thinking of doing something that would put your brother''s name to shame?"

    Miguel stops. He looks at her. A wave of different emotions flits across his face, like he''s trying to fight over what he feels.

    But then his face darkens. He throws his arm around her, locking her in his embrace.

    Claire struggles. In her mind, in that split second, she couldn''t decide whether to scream or to fight him. Still, she thinks about Gab, and what this will do to their reputation. It''s going to spread like wildfire. She imagines the headline, "Brother of Business Tycoon Figures in Attempted ****." It''s going to hurt Gab''s reputation, and everything else.

    "I just want to feel you," Miguel mutters in her ear, as his hands start groping her. He''s a man on fire, delirious with d?s?r?, and he breathes in her scent, desperately, hungrily, almost like a mad man. He probably knows this is his one and only chance to do this, to feel what his brother takes for granted, to inhabit this insane moment and never leave it.

    Fear and anger clutch Claire''s throat. She cannot accept this. For some twisted miracle, no one seems to be coming. The elevators are not moving. No one''s coming down from the offices in the upper floors. No one''s coming in through the lobby. And where''s the building''s security officer when you need him most? As though the whole world left them to their own devices. Is this planned, orchestrated by Miguel? But why here? Why now? Or maybe this is all merely a sad, unfortunate coincidence.

    She closes her eyes, and before he could do anything more, she gives her free knee enough wiggle room, then with all her remaining strength, uses that knee to pummel Miguel in the groin so hard that even Claire recoils from the forces of the impact.

    The effect is instantaneous. Suddenly, Miguel loses his grasp of her, and he falls down on his own knees, grasping his groin, his face white as sheet, his eyes wide and bulging in shock and unbelievable pain. He crumples on the floor like a fetus, whimpering in pain.

    "I hope I don''t see you again, Miguel," Claire mutters, catching her breath. "I thought you''re different. How mistaken have I been."

    He looks up and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out of it. Only some sound coming from the back of his throat. And Claire doesn''t wait for him to recover¡ªshe just half-runs from the spot, away from it all, out into the open road, where Dean, her chauffer, awaits, completely unaware of what just happened.

 Chapter 120 - A Message of Great Importance

    I am deeply sorry for not having updated this novel for quite some time. I have been very busy. For one thing, I am in the middle of crafting a screenplay for a Netflix show (fingers crossed!). And as you know, we''re all trying to survive this pandemic. So I hope you are all staying safe and healthy out there!

    What am I trying to say here?

    I only have one important request. Help me write again. For this month, please send this story power stones. The more the better, so that it will have a Power Rank of 50 or higher. As soon as the story gets this Power Rank, it will be enough to motivate me again to write. And motivation, as everyone knows, is key: in the absence of everything else, such as earnings, fame, or even a small fortune, it''s the ranking that thrills us aspiring writers here on .

    So just a recap of This Crazy Rich Boy so far:

    In the last chapter, Claire/Bella is stalked by none other than Miguel Tan. It''s crazy, I know, but sometimes unrequited love can drive someone to the brink of madness, or weirdness.

    Many years ago, my husband wrote a story called "Blind Spot," which eventually won a literary award in the Philippines. Here below is an excerpt:

    ----------------------------

    If you want her so much, why not stalk her?

    That''s Andrew speaking. That''s Andrew giving me another of his many advices. He''s the teacher and I''m the student. He''s Socrates and I''m some bumbling Athenian youth. And the subject is unconditional but unrequited love.

    No, Andrew says. Unconditional and unrequited love. It''s the tyranny of the "and." Unconditional "and" unrequited. Andrew laughs.

    We''re fond of this teacher¨Cstudent fiction. It''s some form of catharsis for me, some outlet where most afternoons I cross the grassy vacant lot behind our house to Andrew''s art deco home and listen to his intriguing opinion on most things under the sun.

    The question''s not for me, I say. It''s for some friend, or some friend of a cousin''s friend, who happens to be a victim of unconditional and unrequited love.

    Stalk her and when it gets unbearable, let her see you, Andrew says. Let her see you and wait until you see terror in her eyes. Wait and look in her eyes until you learn first-hand why they all say the greatest love in this universe is the one that is never returned.

    She''s this figure that comes out of a door. She''s this perfume that so subtly floats in the air until it surrounds me and drowns me. She''s the core of a swirling mass of weird friends and crazy parties. She''s the hollow sound on the concrete pavement, the click-clack click-clack of little shoes that thinly echoes in the night.

    She''s the reason why there are many things I never tell people, not even to the ones I''m closest to. She''s the reason why I tell lies, why I obfuscate, why I insist that the question is not for me, but for a friend of a friend of a friend Andrew no longer knows.

    And Andrew, of course, doesn''t believe me. He so easily sees the lie through the teeth.

    I am her shadow each night she escapes from something that''s so near it burns her. She''s this moth that hates the darkness and flutters toward something that burns so damn bright. She goes to these parties crawling with other desperate kids. She drowns her little head in the mind-numbing repetitive beats of trance music. She sinks in the swirl of tax-free gin and tequila and surging s?xu?? hormones. She lets loose herself in these parties, and these parties swallow her up like a quicksand would. Sometimes I am tempted to claw her out, to save her, to be her knight in shining armor, with a golden broadsword in my hand and courage in my heart. But she doesn''t really need me. I''m really an outsider. Always have been, always will. I stand outside, always outside of where things happen, staring through the glass walls, patiently watching her every move.

    Every languid sway of her mandolin h?ps excites me. My heart leaps with her laughter. I see her flirting with a boy and I close my eyes and imagine I am that boy in the worn-out leather jacket, sipping my wine. I am that boy ??r?ssing her white knee as I reach the climax of my small talk. For a fleeting moment, I am that boy, tasting what he''s tasting, speaking what he''s speaking, enjoying my two minutes when I am the center of her lethargic attention. I am that boy who tells her what I feel and maybe, when she''s not looking, brush my hand against her soft skin and feel its warmth, its tenderness, its hidden longings.

    She comes out in the night when her father is dead drunk. I see her as I stand in the shadows across the street. I watch her as she slips out of the door so carefully like a cat in stealth. At the crack of dawn, just before her father wakes up, she steals across the dark streets in half-drunken gracefulness. And across the street, in the bluish shadows, I stand and watch and wait and bite my lip.

    Every night, I take out my heart, lay it on the pavement, and watch it bleed. Bleed until it''s dry. Powder dry. Every morning, I wonder how it is to actually see your own heart dried up on the pavement. How would I feel? Would I poke at it with a stick, search for the waves of love and ?ust that used to animate it? Dried up on the pavement, I''ll probably see my heart for what it really is: just a piece of black, rotting flesh. Just organic cells and tissues bound up together that any stray dog can eat. Not the end-all and be-all of the universe. Not the magical thing that makes the world go round.

    I want to tell these discoveries to her face, to tell her how small she is, how ridiculously insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But each night, when she comes out and her perfume tells me otherwise, my heart beats so fast like it''s going to jump out of my ?h?st.

    My heart tells me one thing: You''re an idiot.

    I am an idiot. I am an idiot for daring to defy its power. For refusing to believe that, yes, it is really the be-all and end-all of the universe."

    ----------------------------

    It''s quite a long story, so if you''re interested, you''ll be able to read it in whole by ordering on Google Play (play.google.com/store/books/details?id=X7fwDwAAQBAJ&fbclid=IwAR2EeCEq2wcGXRro7pIhH6rdBTwf8SPQS3RJRGRDOyv9EATL78a70BpDlhg) or on Amazon (just search for Don''t Blink ** Lazarte in Books).

    But back to This Crazy Rich Boy.

    To tell you the truth, this story isn''t earning that much. The sheer amount of time I spend writing here is not rewarded with what it deserves. In other words, I came to the point of questioning myself and my own aspirations. I wanted to be on the Webspirity Awards, but for some technicality, it turned out I was not qualified. And it was heartbreaking for me because the Webspirity Award and getting a chance to win that prize money was the very thing that inspired me to sign up on this platform. And now it was not possible.

    So now I''m at a crossroads. What do I do? Should I continue writing the novel here on , or should I take this story elsewhere?

    I would love to hear your opinion. Or at least some encouraging words. I miss Claire/Bella. I miss Gabriel Tan. I miss writing about them, but I am saddled with the need to do something worthwhile, finance-wise, and do something I love, which is this thankless job of crafting a story for this platform.

    In any case, please leave a comment. Or send Power Stones my way. If this story ranks 50 or higher, it would re-motivate me to keep this going.

    And most importantly, please stay safe, healthy, and happy!

    --- Claire Ysabella

 Chapter 121 - The Utter Wrongness

    Claire is on the verge of tears as she runs out of the doors. Blood pounds in her ears, and she almost didn''t hear Dean when he asked, "Where to, Miss Claire?"

    "What?"

    "Where would you like to go?"

    "I need to see Gab," she says. This couldn''t wait. This couldn''t be simply relayed on the phone. It needs to be said up close and personal.

    If Dean had questions, he didn''t say it. He just focused on the road and calmly, if not speedily, tried to reach Gabriel Tan''s building, which is a few blocks away.

    Claire replays everything in her mind, and somehow, despite all the red flags about Miguel, she couldn''t believe it. Miguel knew what she had gone through with Jake Magno. He knew and he empathized. So why would he even do that? Is he insane?

    Claire shivers in the backseat. She''s not sure how serious Miguel was about his intention to harm her, but she has read too many crime novels to avoid thinking it could have gotten worse. Miguel could have succeeded in overpowering her, then bringing her to God-knows-where, and maybe, after the gruesome deed, that crime escalating to full-blown murder isn''t too unthinkable. A chill runs down her spine; how easily the dream could have turned into a nightmare.

    Claire is so deep in her thoughts of self-annihilation and drama that the door opening up surprises her. Dean extends a hand to help her out.

    She grabs it, like someone drowning would grab a lifeline.

    "Would you like me to accompany you, Miss Claire?" There''s concern in Dean''s voice. After all, one look at her and it''s clear something''s indeed very wrong.

    "Thanks, Dean. But I can manage," Claire says. She even manages to smile.

    Claire steels her nerves and soldiers on, although her crumbling sense of certainty is betrayed by her uneven step. She feels as though the walls are closing in around her, and yet, she must find Gab before Miguel gets hold of him.

    She isn''t sure how she got up all the way to Gabriel''s penthouse. The next thing she knows, the door opens to Gabriel with his arms wide open, so happy to see him.

    "I missed you like the desert missed the rain," Gabriel whispers to her ear, his arms tightly around her.

    There''s a lump in her throat; in her mind, Miguel in that darkened lobby, saying hurtful things to her. "I missed you too, Gab," she manages to whisper back, although her voice is hoarse. She even returns his embrace.

    Gabriel is animated, like she has never seen him before. "It''s great that you''re here!" he says, pulling her in one arm toward his study room. "You''re just on time!"

    Claire is puzzled for a moment. "Did anything happen?"

    Gabriel smiles. He opens the door theatrically. And there, on his big-ass iPad, is Miguel on FaceTime. "He has already forgiven me," Gab says cheerfully. "I told you my dear brother wouldn''t be able to resist me. We''re like two peas in a pod."

    Claire is white as sheet. She glares at Miguel on the screen. Miguel, in turn, waves at her like what happened just minutes earlier never took place. "Hi, Claire," he even says cheerfully, his tinny voice sending a chill down her spine. For some reason, all Claire could see are Miguel''s perfect white teeth on the iPad screen. "How are you doing?"

    Claire freezes for longer than normal. In her head is a storm of conflict and contradiction. Her gut reaction is to scream her lungs out, "Murder! ****! Et cetera!" She feels like her head is going to explode.

    But Gabriel turns to her and so innocently says, "That''s why I love my brother. I''m glad he''s already past my silly little prank the other night. Isn''t that great?"

    Claire turns to him. Her true emotions possibly quiver on her face that Gabriel''s brow knits in confusion. "What''s wrong, honey?"

    There''s a lump in her throat. And in a split second, she almost chooses to spill the beans and tell Gabriel EVERYTHING¡ªeverything that happened, every little machination that Miguel has been doing behind his back, down to those dark few moments at the lobby of her office building.

    But then again, on the crest of that wave of anger is a memory of that night, not so long ago, when Miguel was a kind human being who sat with her in the dark lobby of some hospital, waiting for Gabriel to wake up. Where''s that kind human being now? Where was he when this insane version of Miguel was in the lobby of her office building?

    "Anything wrong?" Gabriel says, lovingly tucking a tendril of her hair behind her ear. "What seems to be the matter?"

    Claire glances at the iPad and sees Miguel gazing at them, watching this scene. Did she see a glimmer¡ªjust a glimmer¡ªof worry in his eyes? Is he afraid she''d confess and tell on him?

    How she''d love to unmask this man. But then again, Miguel is perhaps the only person in the world who truly understands Gabriel. What happens to the two brothers if she confesses?

    Claire sighs. Her brain is all fried up; all she sees is this white-hot confusion, and Gabriel''s innocent face asking her about what is wrong.

    In the end, she tries to smile. "Nothing. Nothing''s wrong." She shakes her head, trying not to look in the iPad''s direction. "I''m just a bit tired, that''s all."

    Gabriel gazes into her eyes, trying to fathom her inner truth. But sadly, given his quite limited experience with women, he fails to realize that Claire is serving him a white lie. He loving puts his arms around her and kisses her on the forehead. "Poor princess. You''re tired and yet you still had to go here. You could have just gone straight home."

    Claire smiles despite what she feels. "I wanted to see you. Make sure you''ve properly taken your meds. You''re not going anywhere, Gabriel. I''ll make sure you''re fine and healthy and¡ª"

    "I''m super fine," Gabriel says, laughing. "And now that you''re here, I can''t even imagine I was ever sick."

    Finally, Claire lets her emotions get the best of her and she buries her face in Gabriel''s ?h?st, sobbing uncontrollably.

    "There, there," Gabriel whispers, hugging her tightly, not letting go. "I didn''t realize you''re THIS tired. I''m so sorry."

    "No, don''t say that," she says, her voice muffled. "Don''t¡­"

    As she sobs, the memory of the recent past flashes in her head. How she almost lost this man. How everything seems crazy. How hard it seems to be to stay in love with someone like Gabriel, with all his massive commitments, with everything that surrounds him, all good and bad and exciting and terrifying and¡­

    For a long moment they stayed like that in each other''s arms, until her sobs slowly subside. And they would have stayed like that even longer if Miguel didn''t clear his throat; as it turns out, he has been quietly watching them.

    "Oh, sorry, Migs," Gabriel says. "I didn''t realize you''re still there."

    Miguel laughs, but that laughter would not fool Claire now. It''s all fake.

    "No worries," Miguel says. "So. See you guys when I see you, okay?"

    "Sure," Gabriel says. "Take care, bro."

    "You, too." Then a pause, pregnant with meaning. "And you, too, Claire. Always watch your back."

    Anger surges in Claire''s throat, and she would have lashed at him if not for Gabriel. A deep breath. Focus on the center of things. "Sure, Migs," she eventually manages to say. "I appreciate your extraordinary concern for my welfare. Thank you."

    "Anything for you, Claire," Miguel says, his eyes dead-set on her. "I''ll do anything for you."

    "Well, that''s rich coming from you," Claire says, unable to stop herself.

    Gabriel''s gaze ping-pongs from Claire to Miguel to Claire. He feels like something''s weird is going on, he just couldn''t quite put a finger on it. Then to Miguel: "Migs, lunch tomorrow, what say you?"

    "Sure," Miguel says. "I''ll be there."

    "Great," Gabriel says. Then Miguel''s face blinks out on the iPad.

    "What was that?" Gabriel turns to her. "Is something going on?"

    Claire gazes at him. For the last time, he''s asking her about the truth. But telling the truth is easy if things were not this complicated. If Gabriel is not Gabriel, and Miguel''s not his beloved brother, the only person who knows and understands him. If she didn''t come to their lives, there wouldn''t be anything like this. When you look at it from another perspective, it seems Claire is the destroyer of peace and goodwill among men and brothers, the awkward seductress who makes men fall head over heels. But maybe she has a choice. Maybe she can choose to look the other way. Maybe she can still talk it over with Miguel.

    "Nothing," she finally says, trying to smile her best, fakest smile. "I''m just tired, Gab. Maybe I should just go home."

 Chapter 122 - The Man in the Shadows

    Miguel has turned off his phone, seemingly for a long time, yet he''s still standing there, in the dark. He touches his chin¡ªthe pain shoots through his brain. His face had hit the concrete floor hard when Claire kicked him in the groin, and he''s sure it''s going to bruise badly. It was not very noticeable on FaceTime, but tomorrow at lunch, if he has the balls to attend it, Gabriel would notice it and ask questions.

    He''s standing on the sidewalk. He looks behind him, as the entrance door of the building swings open. Miguel steps back into the shadows as he sees Dale, the general manager of The Residence, Claire''s lavish home, stepping out to speak to the door man. Miguel quietly watches them. He must not be seen. He doesn''t really want to freak her out. But there''s something about his feelings for her that makes him do things he would never have done in a million lifetimes¡ªand yet here he is, there he was, acting like a mad man. Is he really going down this slippery slope?

    Miguel actually shakes his head, as though he''s trying to resist his personal demons. I don''t like this, he tells himself. I don''t like where I''m headed to. But there''s something about this entire drama. His life feels like a train wreck ever since he first saw her. The truth is, he wants to hate her¡ªif he can''t love her, then maybe doing the exact opposite thing would help him forget about her. But it''s so hard to hate her when all she seems to be doing is trying to be reasonable. She didn''t even tell on him. Miguel saw on her face how she was on the verge of confessing everything to Gabriel, how she struggled, and how, in the end, she decided not to tell Gabriel. Maybe to save his relationship with his brother. Claire saving his relationship with his brother¡ªwhen it is he who should be doing all the saving by letting Claire go and moving on.

    And now, as if to make things worse, he''s stalking her here. What is he planning to do by hiding in the darkness, waiting for her car to arrive? He''s not even sure if she''d go home tonight¡ªfrom the looks of it, Gabriel would not let her go, not tonight, not after what Miguel had seen, that kind of intimacy, that neediness. And yet. More and more, Miguel seems to be operating on impulse; it seems he has ceased to think with his big head.

    ***

    Meanwhile, Claire was serious. She really did call it a night, but not after making sure that Gabriel has taken all his meds and made him promise to stop acting like a petulant child and do what''s necessary.

    "I have to be blunt with you, Gab," she had said before she left. "You can''t go into another stupid coma again, understand? Or else I will kill you."

    Gabriel laughed and gave her a deep, wet kiss that dripped with longing. "I will never ever leave you," he said. And that was enough; his words were enough. Gabriel''s actual words, uttered out in the open, are more powerful than whatever unspoken thing they used to have.

    "Good," she said then. Then tucked him in like he''s her child. A big man-baby. But Claire doesn''t mind; he''d rather have a thousand man-babies like Gabriel in her life, than contemplate living without him.

    Dean, her chauffeur, was probably not expecting that Claire would actually leave Gabriel that night. He probably thought the Big Boss would want to "cash in" tonight. So he was surprised when Claire called him up to tell him she''s already in the lobby, waiting for him.

    "Sorry, Miss Claire," he says as he opens the car door for her. "I thought you''d spend the night here."

    "I thought so, too," she says, but leaves it at that. She''s too tired to even attempt an explanation.

    When you think of it, she''s had a really long and really bad day. She wonders if there''s anyone else out there who also had to endure a day like hers. And the resolution she had been hoping for upon speaking to Gabriel did not materialize. Did she make a mistake? Was it wrong not to tell him, right when she had the perfect chance, right when Miguel was there on the iPad? It should have been the next best thing to an actual physical confrontation, right? But no, she had to chicken out. She had to tell herself, Perhaps next time. Not now. Not during this otherwise perfect moment.

    So now, being driven home, Claire''s heart feels like bursting. How much she''d love to tell Gabriel everything, if only Miguel were like some employee, like Jake Magno. If only he was not her boyfriend''s only brother. So what should she do? How does she fend off Miguel''s advances? What if he tries to do it again, pouncing on her with her back on the wall? What if she would not be so lucky next time? Claire feels like crying. A tear actually pops out of a corner of her eye. A tear drop that soon becomes a rivulet of bitterness coursing down her cheeks. It was not until she sniffled that Dean looks up and gazes at her on the rear-view mirror.

    "Oh, my God, Miss Claire, are you okay?"

    Claire rifles through her handbag and locates a handkerchief. She blows her nose into it. "I''m fine, Dean. Don''t mind me. I just feel like being dramatic tonight."

    Dean gazes at her meaningfully. He wasn''t born yesterday. He knows that when a woman leaves a man''s house in the middle of the night, it could only have been caused by a fight. He knows the Big Boss could sometimes be difficult, although he also knew Gabriel has softened a great deal ever since he met this woman. "Are you sure?"

    "I''m fine, Dean. Thank you."

    Dean sighs. "It will pass," he says. "I know Gabriel. I know when something is true about him. And I know what he feels for you is true. Maybe it was just the meds."

    Claire could explain that this isn''t about that. But maybe she should spare Dean from all her personal troubles. Her chauffeur does not need someone else''s drama tonight.

    "I know," she says. "I''m just venting out. But truly I''m fine." She tries to smile. Then she blows her nose into the handkerchief one last time. "I''m just looking forward to a peaceful, restful night."

    "Aren''t we all?" Dean says. He smiles, too.

    As the car eases into the foyer of The Residence, they do not notice the man standing by the curb. When Claire steps out of the car, the man also steps back into the shadows, observing her, like a predator upon his prey.

    ***

    Miguel''s heart jumps in his throat. He''s overcome with mixed emotions upon seeing Claire¡ªshe looks so sad and beautiful. "I''m sad, too," he whispers to no one. "Maybe it is our mutual fate to endure this interminable sadness."

    Miguel''s plan is having no plan at all. But his car, parked inconspicuously nearby, is ready. Aren''t you just so unstoppable, the voice in his head says. Nothing can stop you. You feel like doing something, you actually do it, Migs, my man! They should give you an award or something!

    Claire emerges from the car like she has the world on her shoulders. She walks quietly toward the entrance door step by measured step, as though deep in thought.

    Miguel also, slowly, emerges from the shadows. He could grab Claire, maybe whisper threats in her ear to make her shut up. Maybe because of what happened earlier today, there''s no fight left in her, and this would be easy now. Just maybe. One won''t know until one tries it out.

    Soundlessly, Miguel approaches from behind her, his entire being burning with d?s?r?, every part of him ready to find fruition to his wildest dream. He''s only a few steps behind her. One quick movement and she would¡ª

    "Miss Claire," Dean''s voice calls up from behind them, and instantly, Miguel changes course, acting like some random passerby.

    Dean jogs up to her, a piece of white cloth in his hand. "You left this in the car," Dean says.

    Claire looks at it and shrieks like a small girl. "Oh, my God, Dean, that''s the handkerchief I blew my nose into! That''s full of my snot!"

    Dean laughs, but he doesn''t seem to mind. He even solemnly hands over her handkerchief, which is already properly folded. "I thought you don''t want to lose it."

    Claire''s face is beet red in embarrassment as she takes it. For a moment she forgot about how crappy the day had been. "I''m sorry for being so careless, but thanks so much, Dean."

    Dean makes a mock salute then he leaves.

    "Oh, there you are, Miss Claire."

    It''s Dale, still snappy as ever, opening the entrance door as wide as possible.

    "Good evening, Dale. You don''t know how glad I am to see you."

    Confusion passes on Dale''s face. "What do you¡ª"

    He never finishes his word as Claire falls on him in a desperate embrace, and begins sobbing in his ?h?st.

    If Dale is mortified or confused, he does not show it. He instantly ?ssumed the "shoulder-to-cry-on" role as he shepherds Claire inside, all ready to hear whatever she has to spill out tonight. And something tells him it''s going to be a long night. He did not even notice the man standing outside, his hands in his pockets, staring at them, completely unmoving. After a long moment, the man leaves in big, angry steps, heading toward God-knows-where.

 Chapter 123 - The Conversation over Cocktails

    For a long time, Claire seemed to do nothing but cry, with Dale holding her hands and accentuating her sobs with the most empathetic "There, there, Miss Claire." They''re in the lounge, with no one else but the bar man at the other end, safely out of ear shot.

    After a while, Dale asks the most important question: "What happened? Why the tears?"

    It was a question that even stoked Claire to sob even worse. Dale sighs; he has never seen a woman cry like this in his entire life, not even when he broke up from his fianc¨¦e a lifetime ago, when he had told her he''d just realized he wanted to "Do more with my life before I settle down." Funny, because nearly a decade later, he''s still here, working, a glorified servant. But isn''t being the general manager of a swanky place like The Residence quite an achievement? His mother would think so. He''s happy where he is now, and he''d be delirious if he could climb more, by the good graces of Gabriel Tan. That''s why he''s always ready to drop everything if it has anything to do with Miss Claire, now considered to be the other formidable half of this entire enterprise.

    But gazing at Miss Claire now bawling her eyes out, Dale feels terrible. Is something wrong in the magic kingdom? Is it all going to fall apart? What would happen to The Residence if Miss Claire is made to leave? Is that what the tears mean now¡ªthat the Gab-Claire partnership is about to be dissolved?

    "Did he hurt you?" he asks after a long silence.

    And at last Claire sniffles; the storm has subsided a bit, if only for a moment. Her eyes are bloodshot, and yet, Dale couldn''t help but notice that even so, this woman is still so pretty when she cries. More and more, Dale starts to see why the Big Boss is so smitten by her.

    "No, nothing like that," Claire says. "I just had a¡­ I just had a¡­" Claire stops; is it wise to tell Dale the real reason for his tears? That Miguel tried to harm her right in Gab''s own office building? That she couldn''t tell Gabriel because things feel so complicated? "I just had a really¡­The office work, the stress¡­ It feels like someone''s trying to **** me¡­"

    "**** you?" Dale''s eyes go wide. "The office work can do THAT?"

    "Yes, I mean, no¡­I mean, yes," Claire says. "I mean, no. Dale, I''m speaking in metaphor."

    "Oh, I see."

    "Have you ever had one of those days when you just want to go home, and when the elevator opens, a long-standing problem ?ssaults you and brings you down?"

    "Oh, what kind of problem? Was it that woman again? That former roommate of yours? Karla-something?"

    "Karen?"

    "Yes, Karen!" Dale says excitedly. "Was she the problem? When the elevator doors open, was she there?"

    "No, it''s not her. It''s just¡­" Claire pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off a worsening headache. This "confession" is useless. She can''t tell Dale anything, even if her heart wants to burst open from all her tragic secrets. "It''s someone else. Someone who couldn''t take no for an answer. Someone, I fear, has taken a turn for the worse. And he''s making my life a living hell."

    Dale mulls it for a moment. He shakes his head. "Does the Big Boss know about him?"

    Claire sighs. "Not yet. But I will let him know as soon as I figure out the answer to the biggest question."

    "And what question would that be?"

    "How?" is the only thing Claire says. She has been absent-mindedly unfolding her handkerchief, the same dainty piece of fabric Dean had run just to return to her. If only she knew how that handkerchief saved her from Miguel just minutes earlier.

    "I see," Dale mutters. "And as far as I know, there''s only one thing that could help us find the answer to the ''how'' question."

    Claire smiles, waiting for him to just say it. But Dale holds his arm like he''s pointing at the ceiling, and immediately somebody from the bar approaches them.

    "Will you give us two wonderful servings of the fine beverage preferred by the likes of Bond, James Bond?"

    "Absolutely, Sir," the server says snappily, then disappears.

    "And what beverage was that?" Claire says, bemused.

    "What else, but heavenly martini," Dale says. "Shaken, not stirred, of course."

    Claire has to laugh, despite the gloomy context of this conversation. She instantly recalls her high school and college days, when Hollywood icons like Daniel Craig held sway. How could she forget that image of Craig''s James Bond emerging leisurely from a golden-hued ocean in the old movie ''Casino Royale,'' which had been ''watched ad nauseam'' by her mother Carolina?

    When the drinks arrive, Dale holds his ???ktail glass up, then theatrically shakes the glass so that the single olive dances in the bottom of the crystal vodka. "See, I''m shaking it."

    "Just like Bond, James Bond?" Claire says, smiling, taking a sip of her own beverage.

    "I love my James Bond stories," Dale says, appearing suddenly serious. "Did you know why Bond ordered his drink specifically to be shaken, and not stirred? Because shaking waters down the alcohol when the ice melts. So Bond can sip it without getting too drunk, but while appearing drunk to his potential enemies."

    "Oh, that''s ridiculous!" Claire says, watching the olive in her drink. "Because even if all of the ice melts, it''s the same amount of alcohol if you finish the drink, right? You''d still be drunk. But James Bond is a heavy drinker. He''s not going to get hammered by a single serving of some watered down drink."

    "I didn''t know you''re also quite a connoisseur on all things James Bond, Miss Claire!"

    Claire shrugs. "Thanks to my mother, who loved all the James Bonds, even the reviled Timothy Dalton."

    "It''s great to find a kindred spirit," Dale says, then raises his glass. "May we have a toast?"

    "Sure," Claire says. "Let''s toast to a world without problems."

    "Let''s toast to peace, love, and understanding!" Dale adds.

    "Let''s toast to a good life, then," Claire finishes. Their glasses clink.

    The one glass was followed by another, and another. And before they knew it, Dale is staring at their little table filled with about a dozen empty ???ktail glasses. Claire follows his gaze, her eyes going round. "Oh my God! Did we really drink all of those?"

    Dale snickers, his face red. "I''m more shocked that the server never took away our empty ???ktail glasses!"

    They both laugh and giggle like teenagers. "We should do this more often," Claire suggests.

    "Well, we should, Miss Claire. But hopefully in celebration, and not like¡­ Well, not like what you had today."

    "Oh," Claire mutters. The reason why they''re here suddenly returns to her. Miguel''s face flashes in her mind and she''s depressed once again. She sighs. "What time is it, Dale?"

    He glances at his watch. "I think it''s long past your bedtime, Miss Claire."

    "Yeah, I think so, too." She rises from the seat. "I think we should call it a day." She sighs. "And what a day."

    "Yes, Ma''am," Dale says. "Because tomorrow is another day."

    "Yes, indeed it is," Claire slurs. "Bond, James Bond."

    Dale even walks Claire back to her penthouse suite, insisting that he can hold his alcohol and that it would take "much, much more to bring down Dale." She relents, glad to have some company.

    When she''s finally alone in her suite, surrounded by the creature comforts reserved only to the highly privileged, Claire feels a certain coldness around her. Like she doesn''t deserve all this. She keeps thinking of Miguel even as she goes through her pre-bedtime ablutions. As she lies down in bed, finally, all she has is Miguel''s face on the iPad, so nonchalantly saying the world''s biggest lie to her face. Worse, Gabriel was there to witness it and be confused by it.

    Poor Gab, she thinks. And there''s that lunch date tomorrow. Is it so bad to wish that Miguel would fall ill enough to skip that lunch? Or maybe she should just call Gab up and tell him she''s not feeling well. That maybe they should reschedule next time, next week, next century even. Just so long as she avoids facing Miguel. Ostriches sink their heads in the sand; Claire Monteverde reschedules.

    She falls asleep with ugly thoughts in her head, and the resolve to tell Gab she''s not making it to that hellacious lunch date. Yet, she wakes up from a sound so shrill it feels like someone''s drilling her eardrum. She opens her eyes¡ªyes, she has been asleep for the whole night, and not "just a few minutes" as her body seems to tell her¡ªand finds the bedside phone screaming. She grabs it.

    "Good morning, honey!" It''s Gabriel, his sing-song cheeriness she finds somewhat threatening at this time of the morning. "Wonderful lunch food awaits at The Grille downtown, don''t forget. I''ll be at your doorstep in about three hours."

    "But¡ª" Claire is about to protest, but Gabriel doesn''t let her finish. He says, "I love you!" then hangs up.

    Claire looks at the phone, as if bitten by a snake.

 Chapter 124 - The Mind-clearing Operation

    Three hours. But even now her mind says, "No!"

    She''d love to have lunch with Gabriel. They''d never seen the sun for how many days now. Even now her heart longs for a little alone time, far away from all this toxicity. But the mere thought of dining while face-to-face with Miguel makes her stomach churn from the inside out. More and more, her disgust of him grows deeper.

    She return-dials to get hold of Gabriel, but it only rings and rings on the other end. That leaves Claire in a sort of limbo: what should she do? Does she wait here until Gabriel picks her up, resigned to her fate? Has she become that sort of woman?

    Three hours is a long time. Maybe she''ll think about it. So Claire starts going about her morning ablutions leisurely, as though there''s not a care in the world¡ªalthough deep inside, her heart churns like a sea in a storm. She uses her will power to try to look at it not as an enormous thing, but something tiny¡ªthis Miguel problem is a small thing, not even worth bothering about. She''s a strong woman. And she knows that there''s a point in the near future when she would really have to make that decision.

    Even Lucille, as she brings Claire''s breakfast, notices her unusual quietude. "Anything bothering you, Miss Claire? Did you not like the food?"

    Claire looks up from her plate and tries to smile. "Oh, not at all, Lucille. I''m just feeling a bit off the weather."

    "Hmmm. Are you going to the office today?"

    "I''m not sure, actually," Claire says, realizing that there''s administrative stuff she has to take care of at the office. But those concerns seem so far away, like it matters to some other planet, and not here. "I don''t feel like doing anything today. Do you ever get one of those ''spells'' when you feel like you''re sick and tired of everything and you just don''t want to go on anymore?"

    Lucille stares at her. "I''m not sure what you''re getting at, Miss Claire. I don''t think I''ve ever had that spell. I always wake up in the morning with my heart full of resolve. It''s a beautiful world, and working here, surrounded by all these modern comforts, it gives me p???sur?. This place is so much better than where I used to live."

    It''s Claire''s turn to stare at her, like a ???kroach crawled out of Lucille''s mouth. "That was a beautiful thing to say."

    Lucille smiles. "Thank you, Miss Claire. But if I can guess, you''re maybe just tired. We all know what you''ve been through with Mr. Tan''s recent illness. Whenever I have feelings like that, I just take a break. Go to a nice place, Miss Claire. Somewhere to clear your mind. Somewhere happy."

    "But where?"

    "Anywhere but here," Lucille says, completely without irony.

    That makes sense, Claire thinks as she stabs a sausage with a fork. Clear my head. That''s it. She glances at the wall clock, and by her own estimation, Gabriel would be at her door in a couple more hours. Does she wait for him, like the usual? "What if you''re facing a problem that you can''t seem to solve? That either way, you''re damned?"

    Lucille shrugs. "If I can''t solve a problem, then I just walk away and wait for it to resolve itself."

    "Really?" Claire says. "Does that work?"

    "If it''s unsolvable, then we have no choice. We just have to let go."

    Claire gazes at Lucille. She realizes for the first time that underneath the girl''s seemingly child-like persona is a very old and wise person. She discovers a renewed respect for the girl who cleans up her suite. Maybe Lucille deserves a better job. A better position in the grand scheme of things here in The Residence. Or perhaps in any of Gabriel''s companies.

    But even as she thinks that, Claire realizes she seems to have started making decisions on behalf of the actual company owner.

    "Thank you, Lucille. I needed those words." A pause. "Do you love this job?"

    "Oh, this job suits me perfectly."

    "But what if Dale gives you greater responsibility? Would you be up for the challenge?"

    Lucille''s face lights up. "Sure! I would love that."

    Claire smiles. "Let''s see what we can do. I''ll speak with Dale one of these days."

    Lucille is so grateful as she leaves the room, as though she just got a promotion. Claire feels for her; a good break or an opportunity rarely comes, even for those who obviously deserve it.

    And the girl''s right. She needs to clear her head. But where should she go?

    She takes a quick shower and puts on some comfortable clothes. Nothing dressy, just enough to let her move freely. As she steps out of the room, she takes note of the hour: Gabriel might be arriving any minute now. She quickens her step¡ªshe doesn''t want to face Gabriel today. At least not for the purpose of attending that lunch. Even now she''s not sure how to face the whole thing. Maybe after her excursion to god-knows-where, she''d have a clearer idea.

    Dale greets her at the lobby, looking as though last night with all those ???ktails never happened. "Good morning, Miss Claire!"

    "A fine morning to you, too. Listen, Dale, can you do me a little favor?"

    "Sure, anything for you, Ma''am."

    "When Gabriel arrives and asks for me, please tell him I''d be out and won''t come back for several hours. There''s something really personal I have to take care of."

    "Sure, Ma''am. Shall I tell the Big Boss to call you up on your phone?"

    "I don''t have a phone with me."

    "What? But you should¡ª"

    "Dale, I''m done with smartphones for now. I just want to stay old school." She makes a disarming smile. "And please tell Gabriel to have a great lunch with his brother. I''ll see him later, if I can."

    Then Claire steps out into the bright sunshine. The city has fully woken up, now working toward the mid-day. And although Claire still has no idea where to go to do Lucille''s suggested "mind clearing operation," she''s thrilled at the rich sense of possibility. Here I am, world, she mutters to herself. Please help me find an answer¡ªan answer to the immortal question of "how?"

 Chapter 125 - The Chocolate Lab

    There''s something about taking long walks that seems to have a positive effect on the mind. When she was a child, back in the farmland her parents ran, taking long walks was a luxury¡ªthere were always a lot of things to do: cows to milk, chickens and turkeys to feed, long plots of different vegetables and fruit orchards to tend and water. But even so they never had complicated problems back then¡ªusually it was the financial kind, which could be solved by selling off a few cattle heads, or turkeys.

    This, however, is different. Claire has never had "boy problems" of this magnitude before. Men liked her, but those were ordinary men, whose entire gamut of concerns usually fell along the lines of where to look for temporary jobs, or what Playstation game they should play. There were no men like Gabriel and Miguel, whose men decisions can affect tens of thousands of other men. And sometimes, when those facts sink in, Claire couldn''t help but get her mind blown.

    She feels a bit guilty as she walks the road, which she realizes now is heading toward Central Park. Gabriel would be bewildered not finding her there. She hopes Dale would reassure him enough to relax and proceed with the lunch date with his brother. But still, Gab will talk about her with Miguel, and she could only imagine what Miguel would think. Would he be alarmed? Would he think her sudden disappearance means she''s up to something? Let Miguel''s own personal demons taunt him. The crazier he gets, the better.

    The previously sunshiny morning has become overcast, the sky translucent with long swathes of gray. And yet, there are many people in the park: teenaged girls on roller blades, middle-aged men jogging, kids playing Frisbee, dogs and their owners in some sort of a gathering in the middle of the clearing. In the corners, pop-up stalls selling sandwiches (the "sisig" burgers seemed a huge hit, based on the long queues), artisanal ice cream and coffee, and cotton candy. The atmosphere is festive, and Claire wonders why she never even tried to spend time here before? She was always looking for work, or enduring her former roommates'' endless prattle.

    She''s looking around as she walks among the crowd. Having grown up in a farm, she''s naturally attracted to the crowd of people with all the dogs. She just stands there, gawping at the lovable furbabies. The human owners are chatting among themselves, letting their dogs play. Claire is content just watching them; for a moment, she forgets all her problems. She sits down on a wooden bench nearby, just under the shade of a leafy tree, offering a good view of the whole park. She looks at her watch and realizes Gabriel must be at The Residence by now; he''s probably irritated, his temper, as usual, getting past him. But she knows him¡ªhe''d get over it for the sake of his brother, for their scheduled lunch. He''ll make up an excuse why Claire''s not coming over. There''s a price to pay later, tonight, when she gets home and finds him waiting in her suite. Maybe by then she really has to face the music.

    She feels something tickling her left toe. She looks down and squeals in joy¡ªit''s an adorable little Labrador puppy, the color of dark chocolate. Its yellow eyes meet hers, and it gets even more excited, wagging its tail frantically, making little barks. Claire picks it up and enfolds it in her arms, making baby talk to it. "Where''s your mom, you poor little cute thing?"

    "She''s the runt," a hoarse voice says from behind them. It''s an old man, his hair completely white, holding what is presumably the puppy''s leash.

    "Oh," Claire says, even kissing the puppy on the forehead. "You''re the last of them, aren''t you?" She turns to the old man. "What''s her name?"

    He shrugs. "Haven''t named her. I thought the one who adopts her should get to name her."

    "You mean she''s up for adoption?"

    The man sheepishly scratches his head. "To be honest, I''m here to try and sell her."

    "How much?" Claire says without batting an eyelash.

    "Up to you. How much do you think she''s worth?"

    Claire stops and looks at the puppy, which seems to "get" what the transaction is about and begins ???k?n? her face, mewling. Claire giggles. Then she says an amount to the old man. If only she was looking, she would have seen how the old man''s eyes light up when she said the amount. And yet, he even haggled for more. But Claire, so smitten by the puppy by now, quickly agrees, even giving the man more money than he asked for.

    The man promptly disappears after getting paid, leaving Claire and the puppy on that bench under the tree. But Claire doesn''t mind; there''s something about the puppy that makes her suddenly homesick. She missed the feeling of being in the farm, so far away from the stresses of city life and the complications of falling in love with someone like Gabriel Tan.

    "So what do we call you? How do you like ''Ruby''?"

    The puppy doesn''t react. She''s looking at her face intently, as if waiting.

    "You don''t like it? How about ''Misty''?"

    The puppy still doesn''t react.

    Claire looks around, looking for name inspiration. Then she sees a German shepherd playing with a poodle. "Oh, how about ''Sam''? For ''Samantha''? From the movie ''I Am Legend''? Would you like that?"

    For some reason, the puppy makes her little barks and wags her tail frantically, reaching out to Claire''s face to lick it. Claire lets her; how she missed the smell of "puppy breath." It has always reminded her of new beginnings. "We''ll call you Sam, then, my little baby."

    ---

    It''s already late in the afternoon when Claire returns to The Residence with one big bag of pet accessories in one arm, and Sam on the other. Everyone is so surprised upon seeing her.

    "Oh my God, is it going to live here?" Dale exclaims. "What''s its name?"

    "It''s a ''she'', and her name''s Sam," Claire says. "And she''s going to live here for the rest of her life."

    Sam barks in ?ssent.

    "How adorable!" Dale says, before his face quickly changes. "But a storm brews on the horizon, Miss Claire."

    "Where is he?" she says.

    "In your suite," Dale says softly. "And not in the best of moods, Ma''am. I''m not sure if it''s wise to bring the puppy in there."

    Claire sighs. "I won''t hide Sam from him. She''s mine. He can''t touch her."

    "But it might¡ª"

    "¡ªand it might not," Claire says. "Don''t worry, Dale, I''ll talk to Gab. I need to settle something here."

    She hands him the bag of pet accessories, which Dale examines promptly, delighted to see a few squeaky toys for the dog. Then with Sam hugging her ?h?st, Claire proceeds to her suite. In the elevator, Sam mewls, like she''s afraid, too. But Claire steels her resolve. There are a couple of things she must discuss finally with Gabriel, and the least of her concerns is how he''d react to her bringing a dog, a lifelong responsibility, to this uncertain situation. Miguel is the damned elephant in the room, and that must be addressed first and foremost.

    But she has to admit that she feels a slight trembling as her finger pressed the buzzer, as she hears somebody inside get off the sofa and walk, with heavy, seemingly angry footfalls towards the door. Gabriel must have been stewing for hours, angry for not being able to reach her right when he needed answers the most. She can''t blame him. She''ll calmly take what he could give.

    But when the door opens and Gabriel sees the dog in Claire''s arms, his face lights up, like a kid who has just opened his Christmas present. "Oh, my God, you''ve bought me a puppy?" he says, excitedly snatching the dog from her, showering the dog with kisses. "Oh, my God, what a cute little baby!"

    Claire stands there, her mouth hanging open, unsure of what''s happening.

 Chapter 126 - The Pieces of the Puzzle

    She can''t believe what she''s seeing: Gabriel acting like a child, cooing and making baby talk to the puppy. He acts like he''s holding an actual human baby, showing the puppy around the suite, giggling when the puppy licks his face.

    "He''s so cute," he says. "Where did you get him?"

    "It''s a ''she'' and her name''s Samantha," Claire says. "Bought her at the park."

    "Really? Somebody''s selling dogs at the park?"

    "I guess I just got lucky. It was serendipitous."

    A shadow passes over Gabriel''s face, remembering why he''s here in the first place: because Claire wasn''t around when he tried to pick her up. "What came over you, vanishing on me like that?"

    Claire gazes out at the city skyline. There''s still no sun. Everywhere are clouds and grayness. "That''s what I need to speak to you about."

    Gabriel puts the puppy on the floor. Sam is freaked out when her feet touch the carpet; she sniffs at it, probably surprised at the new surroundings. But her instinct kicks in soon, as she begins exploring the suite, like a school kid on the first day of summer. "You sound serious," Gabriel says.

    "Dead serious," she says. "Because I was almost killed. Or at least severely harmed."

    Gabriel cups her face in his hands as Claire''s tears starts streaming. "Jesus, what happened, love?"

    She gazes into his eyes, trying to fathom the future. If only she could see the consequences. If only. "How was lunch with Miguel?" She wipes her tears with the back of a hand, and turns to look for Sam, who has disappeared.

    Gabriel follows her with a look that says, "What the hell?"

    "I''m not sure about Miguel," Gabriel says. "He also didn''t show up."

    Claire stops in her tracks. "Did he call you up?"

    "No," Gabriel says, exasperated. "I was even thinking earlier that you guys may be up to something, because both of you were missing."

    "He didn''t even leave a message? Texted you?"

    Gabriel shrugs. "Tried calling him up, but his number''s out of reach. What do you think happened with him?"

    "He''s probably in hell, with all the evil ones."

    He laughs drily. "How do you mean? Did anything happen to you without my knowledge?"

    Bloody hell, time for the truth. "Gab, yesterday morning, Miguel tried to harm me."

    "What?" Gabriel''s jaw drops. "What in hell do you mean? This is Miguel were talking about, my brother? Are you sure he¡­"

    "Harm" is actually the understatement of the year, Claire thinks. She''s thinking of ways how to open this delicate revelation to Gabriel, and the more she thinks about it, the longer she''s just standing there, looking for a way out. In the end, the truth is simpler, because it is the truth. "He''d been trying to chase me, Gab. I wanted to tell you this for the longest time, but somehow, I was waiting for him to realize the error of his ways. But I didn''t know how to ''manage'' him. He''s your brother, after all, so it''s awkward to simply reject his advances as I would with any other person."

    "Jesus. How long has this been happening."

    Claire shrugs. "A lot of it was unspoken. He''d let me know of his feelings in subtle ways, and I try to ignore it as much as possible. Maybe because I''m a coward, too. These things are new to me. I never experienced this before, so I didn''t know how to tell him off."

    "So what did he try to do? You said yesterday morning¡­"

    "I''m not sure what he intended to do, but he confronted me. He was trying to corner me. And I had the inkling that he was trying to take me or something."

    "Take you? As in ''kidnap'' you?"

    "I''m not really sure, Gab. But he did try to grab me. Like he''s, you know, obsessed. Like what Jake Magno did to me. I b?r?ly escaped him."

    With quaking voice, Claire proceeds in detailing out how, to her horror, she''d find Gabriel speaking with Miguel on an iPad not many minutes after the ?ssault, Miguel acting like nothing happened.

    Gabriel listens to it all with that look of amazement, like he''s hearing something utterly fantastical. His reaction is disbelief, but he says nothing lest he aggravates Claire''s pain. Yet, he couldn''t deny it¡ªwhat he''s hearing now does not seem like the Miguel he has known all their lives. This is so strange.

    The silence is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Then in the middle of all that awkwardness, Sam the puppy reappears, barking at them, wagging her little tail. Gabriel, by instinct, kneels down and picks her up, yet you could see in his eyes some acute distraction, as though he''s entranced, trying to connect the dots, trying to decide whether he''s here, right now, and this is all happening. That his beloved brother tried to **** the very woman that saved him from his hopelessness, the woman that gave him a renewed sense of direction. Miguel knew that. Miguel knew everything, even the smallest feelings. And yet.

    Then the room phone rings. They both look at it as though it were a dead body that suddenly came back to life. The look on Gabriel''s face says, "Go ahead, pick it up."

    Claire hesitates. But she''d hate it even more if she doesn''t know what the phone call is about. The phone trills loudly. She picks it up, grasping the receiver like a lifeline. "Hello?"

    "Claire...Or are you Bella?" the voice says, unmistakably Miguel''s.

    "Miguel? Where are you¡ª"

    The line abruptly goes dead, like somebody slammed the phone.

    Claire is white as sheet, her heart pounding. Gabriel returns her stare with a look that, at first, seems all confusion, until it all melts down into all-out rage. "He can''t do something like that to me. To you." He slam-kicks the nearest furniture, which explodes into powder. Gabriel screams a guttural scream, like it''s coming from a wounded beast. "I want to kill him, Claire. He''s no longer my brother! I want to tear him to shreds!"

 Chapter 127 - The Sound and the Fury

    Gabriel is seething with rage. And indescribable pain. He doesn''t know what to feel about it, really. He feels betrayed, but the sense of betrayal tears him apart with internal conflict as the betrayer is a person he deeply loves, perhaps the only one who only knows him, the other half of his existence.

    He has known about Miguel''s so-called advances, but he knew his brother¡ªor he thought he knew him. He thought Miguel would stop. That those things his people were reporting to him were just Miguel being playful¡ªhe had known Migs to be "naughty" with women, and he''s never been serious with any of them. And so the seemingly "earnest" pleas to Claire for a date, that tantrum at the rooftop party, the sometimes excessive attention he showers on her¡ªhe had done the same things with other women, and it all ended with him walking away, like nothing ever mattered. Miguel was all sound and fury, signifying nothing. Gabriel has been hearing things, and he was confident Miguel would wake up and just stop. In fact, the supposed lunch date with the three of them¡ªit was Gabriel''s subtle ploy to watch the dynamics between Miguel and Claire, and try to see how he could help hasten to end Miguel''s infatuation.

    But now this¡ªClaire telling her what Miguel did. To be honest, he couldn''t believe it¡ªbut he won''t say it out loud for fear of aggravating Claire''s feelings. And while he knows Miguel, he also knows Claire¡ªshe wouldn''t make up a story just for whatever self-serving purpose.

    That''s why Gabriel is deeply torn¡ªhis love for these two most important people in his life is tearing his heart to shreds. His rage is more directed inward that toward Miguel, his little brother, whose major fault is to become obsessed with the very woman he, himself, has been obsessed with, only that he''s the lucky one to have been chosen by Claire.

    How does he even begin to solve it? Gabriel gazes at Claire, and he sees that old fear. And something else, that same confusion he also feels about the whole situation.

    If this wasn''t Miguel, this would be easy. He''d rain down on him with all the might of his empire. With all his political clout. But Miguel''s family, and for the first time in a long time, Gabriel realizes he doesn''t know what to do.

    Gabriel has stopped howling; he has slumped on the floor, beside the broken furniture, and his eyes are bloodshot, like he wants to cry but couldn''t.

    Sam the puppy approaches him, making those little crying sounds as though she''s concerned about him, and gingerly, Sam crawls towards him, her little tail wagging. Despite what he feels, he opens his arms and Sam excitedly jumps into them. She showers him with kisses.

    Claire watches this scene quietly. This would have been a happy, cute, memorable moment. But now they''re all hanging in uncertainty.

    "Do we have to break up?" Claire softly says. "Do I have to leave, go far away, so Miguel can forget about me?"

    Gabriel makes a bitter smile. "So that I could forget about you, too? I can''t let that happen. You could just kill me now."

    "But what should we do? Can we talk to him?"

    "I''ve been trying to talk to him, Claire. Ever since I came out of the hospital. The way he''d look at you. But maybe it was my fault. I was in denial. I convinced myself that this was the old Miguel I''ve always known¡ªhe likes you one moment, he feels nothing the next. That''s why I never gave way. You''re mine. I know how he has looked after me all these years. I know what kind of sacrifice Michelle Alcantara was for him." Gabriel stops; he brushes his hand softly on Sam''s fur and looks away as he tries to hide his tears from Claire. But it was no use. "There''s this old Spanish film. There''s a scene where there''s some sort of theater performance. On the stage is a woman, and all before her were furniture and chairs and what-not. Her eyes are closed, like she''s sleepwalking, and as she sort of sashays across the stage, like she''s half-dancing, half-sleepwalking, there''s this other man who knocks over every piece of furniture in her way. She doesn''t know he''s doing it because her eyes are closed, but the man still does his job, whether her eyes are closed or open. He does it so that the woman will not stumble or get hurt." Gabriel sniffles like a child. "I remember watching that film and crying over that scene. It wasn''t even an important scene, but I cried. The man was like Miguel, and I was that woman with her eyes closed, dancing across that stage. I owed him so much. That''s why I was in denial. I couldn''t believe that the Miguel I knew no longer exists; here''s a different man, a man that surprises me and hurts me and causes me so much pain. And the worst thing is I don''t know if I could still reach him and talk to him."

    Claire has been sobbing, and as Gabriel finishes talking, she puts her arms around him in a desperate embrace. "I''m sorry," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I should never have come into your life. We should not have met." A pause. "No matter how happy you make me, I don''t know if this is worth losing your brother this way."

    "No," Gabriel mutters. "Don''t talk like that. I''ll talk to him."

    For a long moment, they were slumped like that on the floor. For Claire, if her love story''s ending, if at the end of this ordeal Gabriel has to choose, she''d be happy to leave. Not "happy" happy, but she''ll make that sacrifice so that Gabriel doesn''t have to go through an emotional meat grinder. And yet, even as she thinks this, she''s filled with a sense of disbelief¡ªand hope that somehow, they''ll still get through this.

    On the other hand, for Gabriel, there''s no way he''s letting go of either Claire or Miguel. Now that he can see the stark truth of the extent of Miguel''s feelings, or craziness, however you look at it, maybe he can start by finally setting a boundary. For a start, how about saying no? He''s drawing a line somewhere, and he''s standing by it.

    "If Miguel respects me and loves me as family, he would not have done this. If he stopped being my brother, then he has no business threatening you or making you feel aggravated in the least possible way," Gabriel says, gazing into her eyes. "What I''m trying to say is, [email protected] this drama. I will talk sense into him. For the mean time, you don''t have to feel afraid about your safety, Claire. Miguel is no ninja. I will make sure he doesn''t get near you in any way, without him talking to me first."

    "I''m sorry," is all Claire manages to say.

    "Don''t be. I need to clear my head. But first things first. If Miguel calls you up again, set a meeting."

    "I don''t want to meet with him. Not even for a moment."

    "You''re not meeting him alone. Trust me," Gabriel says as they stand up. "He hasn''t answered any of my calls today. He only lets it ring. If anything, he probably knows that I??m onto him. So if he calls you up again, we have to be subtle. I hate to do this to him, but he''s giving me no choice."

    Claire says nothing. There''s a million things that are running in her head right now, and her heart is in shreds. But maybe Gabriel is right.

    And just when the silence in the room is thickest, the phone shatters it all. It rings and rings.

    Gabriel stares at it. "It''s him," he says. "It''s time we faced this."

 Chapter 128 - The Black and White

    Miguel listens to Claire''s voice on the phone, and despite everything else, his heart jumps. She always makes him excited, as though she''s not human. Divine, probably. Or maybe he''s just getting crazier and crazier about her. Who knows? With what''s happening with him these days, it''s getting harder to know which is which.

    "Hello?" Claire''s voice is raspy, like she''s been crying. "Mi¡ªMiguel?"

    Hearing her mention his name gives him a warm feeling, as though she cares about him. He watches even the slightest inflection, of how she pronounces his name. Did she just say "Miguel" with that trace of longing, like she missed him? He sighs.

    "Is he there?" Miguel says.

    She hesitates; she looks at Gabriel, who nods. After all, it''s useless to lie. Miguel probably already knows. "Yes. Where are you?"

    "Everywhere," he says. "And nowhere."

    Claire again looks at Gabriel, hoping for some wordless guidance. Gab makes a gesture that says, "The floor is yours, Claire. Slay."

    "Can we talk?" she finally says. "Somewhere private. I want to understand what you''re doing."

    "Really?" Miguel couldn''t help but be cynical about her offer; after all, she did kick him in the groin when he tried to "beg" her to speak to him. Or that''s how he remembers it. "How do you think would that go?"

    "It would be a conversation between two level-headed, m?tur? individuals," she says. "I''m willing to forget what happened yesterday morning. I¡­I can forget about that."

    Miguel says nothing for a while. Then he says, "He''s hearing what you''re saying to me now, right?"

    "Uhhh, yes."

    "Then he''s directing this little show of yours."

    "No, but¡­"

    "Listen, Claire," Miguel says. "I don''t know what''s my end game for this. I don''t know how this will be finished. I started something that I''m afraid I don''t know how to conclude. Maybe I''m totally [email protected]"

    "I don''t think that''s true," she says, although her heart feels the truth of what he''s saying. "We need to talk."

    "Funny how you''re the one who''s saying that now."

    She says nothing.

    Gabriel gestures to her: "Give me the phone."

    She nods. "Gab wants to speak with you."

    "Migs, what in hell is it you think you''re doing?" Gabriel couldn''t hide the anger in his voice. "Migs? Miguel?" His jaw drops. "He hung up on me."

    "Jesus." Claire says. "What now?"

    Gabriel says nothing. Quietly, he puts the receiver back on its cradle and looks around; Claire''s penthouse suite is expansive and luxuriously spaced, but somehow, Gabriel feels like the walls are closing in on him.

    ----

    Now that what he''s been doing is out in the open, Miguel feels he couldn''t face Gabriel, not with this thing going on. He''s not an idiot; there''s a part of him that knows what he''s been doing is wrong. And yet. Here he is. Sitting in the darkness of some obscure little bar in the outskirts of the city, having just pressed the "end call" bu??on to avoid having to speak to his brother. Gabriel''s voice jarred him out of his senses; it''s weird, it''s strange, and it''s making him feel so utterly guilty.

    Much earlier, Miguel had watched Gabriel arrive at The Grille with that familiar scowl. He was alone; Claire was nowhere in sight. For some reason, Gabriel even commandeered the table near him, so Miguel lifted up the newspaper to cover his face: this was perfect as his brother was within earshot, and he could hear whatever he said, but the smallest mistake and he could blow his cover. So patiently, Miguel sat there, unmoving, pretending to be someone who was so intently reading his newspaper, holding it so close to his face.

    Gabriel was restless. He''s looking around, glancing at the time on his wristwatch. At one point a server approached and asked him if he needed anything. Gabriel was so distracted it took him a long moment to realize the server had been waiting for his response. In the end, he ordered just a glass of water, but it came with appetizers in the form of a basketful of bread sticks, the restaurant''s specialty. Gabriel never touched the water, nor the food; he just kept looking at the door, most probably waiting for Miguel.

    Miguel was not surprised that Claire wouldn''t be there; it would take extraordinary balls, a stomach made of iron, to be able to stand the sight of the man who had ?ssaulted you. But he wanted so much to tell her, confess to his beloved brother, that he only meant well; that he was desperately in love, and he no longer knew what to do. Getting rejected was quite alien territory for someone like him¡ªand so he''d been behaving erratically. In his head, a single line flashes in fever pitch each time he''d see Claire: "Why can''t you love me?" And the more the answer he was getting was completely not what he d?s?r?d, the worse he''d become.

    The trouble was simple: he''d been walking around with an un-asked question he''d been dying to offer Gabriel; a question that was based more on unspoken things than on clear rules. And the question is this: "I gave you Michelle many years ago; can you return the favor this time and let me have Claire?"

    Miguel actually said the question out loud as he drove to visit Gabriel a few nights ago, when he was alone in the car and no one else would hear him. And to his shame, the question, once uttered out plainly in the open, sounded incredibly ridiculous. It was vastly different from how it sounded in his head. That and the fact that even his sacrifice¡ªgiving away Michelle, if that made sense, was ultimately an aggravation, given what Michelle had eventually done.

    And still, he felt like begging his brother to give Claire away. Half of his mind prods him on, telling him it''s Gabriel, after all, and he would understand. Gabriel could have a battalion of other women he could like and love and marry; heck, he could have celebrities or supermodels. However, half of his mind, coming from that dark place he hated facing, told him to stop the bullsh1t. Don''t be an idiot. Your unspoken question should remain unspoken for as long as you live.

    "I don''t know my end game for this," Miguel had told Claire over the phone, because it''s true: he has no idea. He''s just a big bleeding mass of illegitimate feelings, throwing himself into one awkward situation after another. He has lost his cool. His "muchness." He''s no longer Miguel Tan, the Great Conqueror; he''s just some boy, hiding in this little bar, nursing his festering wounds.

    Miguel picks up the shot glass in front of him, and throws its contents down his throat. The bartender, who knew him from way back and had an enormous respect for Miguel, is quick to ask if he needs anything else. Miguel mulls over the question. "Do you have a bottle of Yamazaki?"

    "Single malt whisky?" the bartender says, trying to be certain if he''d heard it correctly, that Miguel Tan''s asking for a bottle of one of his priciest bottles in the cellar. "I guess I still have a few bottles of eighteen-year-olds and at least one thirty-five-year-old out back."

    "If I ask you to bring out all those, will you join me in drinking them all?"

    "My God, of course!" the bartender stammers; in his mind, he''s already calculating the enormous profit from the sale of those few precious bottles. "But did you say you want to drink them all? Here, tonight?"

    "Yes," Miguel says. "Right here, right now. I just want to do a little experiment."

    "Experiment?" the bartender polishes his last crystal; his eye is already on the cellar door behind him.

    "I want to see if it''s true what they say," Miguel says, his eyes distant. "That you can drown all your sorrows if you try hard enough."

 Chapter 129 - The Man who Darkens the Threshold

    The trouble with things finally being out in the open is that you tend to think of the nastiest possibilities all the time. And tonight, as Claire put down the receiver, she realizes this might truly be a long night.

    Gabriel paces the room, scratching his chin, staring at blank space.

    "What do we do?" she says.

    "Nothing," he says. "He will come to us. And that''s when we''ll try to sort things out."

    "You''re not thinking of resorting violence, aren''t you?"

    Gabriel laughs, despite the situation. "Of course, not! This is my brother we speak of." Then he stops mid-stride as a thought strikes him. "Although if push comes to shove, I''m afraid I have to do something utterly drastic¡­and embarrassing."

    "How do you mean?"

    "There''s only one person in the world who can straighten him out. And I''m deathly afraid to let her come into the picture. So as much as possible, I would like to solve this between the two of us."

    "Are you talking about an old girlfriend? His first love?"

    "Oh, no," Gabriel says. "I speak of Matilde, our mother." Gabriel cringes at the mere mention of his mother. "I don''t want her getting involved. As much as possible, I don''t want her to come into the picture¡ªour picture, with what he have now¡ªand¡­should I say, sour the thing I have tried so hard to sweeten."

    Claire slumps on the sofa. "But Miguel seems unstoppable."

    "I believe he can still see reason," Gabriel says. "He''s just¡­in love with the wrong person."

    She says nothing. She wonders what she''s supposed to do in the hours, days, weeks ahead, with Miguel''s specter always in the periphery of her vision. Is he stalking her, watching her every move? She doesn''t feel safe anymore, even in the confines of this swanky penthouse suite. Miguel seems to have become such a wild card, and she''s not sure what he''s going to do next¡ªand next time she might not be so lucky, or feisty enough to repel him. Yet, somehow, in the depths of her heart, she''s still hoping Miguel really would see reason.

    Gabriel is on the phone speaking to people, and from what she hears, he''s talking to some of his trusted bodyguards, whom she has never seen. Dale once said that Gabriel''s bodyguards are instructed to be as invisible as possible. "He doesn''t want a show of force," Dale said. "But he''s not na?ve, either¡ªhe knows the world can be a pretty fu?k?d up place. So he needs the help of certain individuals to ensure his safety. And you can be sure, Miss Claire, that his people are also ensuring your safety."

    Claire remembers Dale''s words now, and wonders what happened to those so-called bodyguards yesterday morning, when she was ?ssaulted? Where the heck were they when Miguel was grabbing her? When she had to resort to her own inner courage to repulse him? She fights the urge to be upfront to Gabriel about it, but maybe it''s more appropriate to discuss some other time. Right now, their heads are full of toxic things, and they could really use some breathing space.

    "I''ll have to go back to my place," Gabriel says as soon as his chat on the phone''s over. "I need to take care of some urgent business."

    She gazes at him, into his eyes, trying to convey her growing fear. Yet, she says nothing. She smiles. She doesn''t want to always be the damsel in distress; she''s a grown woman who should be able to take care of herself. Or at least that''s what she''s trying to do, despite what she truly feels now.

    Even so, Gabriel senses her anxiety. He gives her the tightest embrace, and it would have lasted a long time if not for Sam the puppy, who suddenly feels the urge to wedge herself in between their feet, pawing at them, asking for a piece of the action, too. That gives them a reason to laugh a little.

    "Don''t worry," Gab says. "I won''t take chances this time. I''ll increase security. I''ll bring back the four bodyguards ?ssigned to you."

    "I didn''t know you removed them."

    He shrugs. "I felt that I needed to give you some degree of privacy. After all, I didn''t see the need to retain them. I only kept the services of a lone bodyguard, but he''d been instructed to keep a certain distance. Now I realize it was a bad decision. Yesterday''s ?ssault would never have happened if I never relaxed security around you. I should have realized you''re on a different stature now. And you''re the most precious woman in the whole world to me. Anything happens to you, it would be worse than death for me."

    Claire''s jaw drops; so that explains the fruition of yesterday''s ?ssault. To think somebody was being paid to protect her, and yet! "Are you sure about the capabilities of these bodyguards?"

    He smiles. "As sure as I''m standing here. In fact, two are standing just outside the door right now. There''s a new security team that is sweeping this entire building, identifying the weak spots. Now I''m not doing this because I consider Miguel to be such a bad-ass ninja warrior; I know him to be a lover, not a fighter. But these guards, they''re here for our peace of mind. I don''t want anything to happen to you or to my brother. I will save him from himself. I only need a good opportunity. I need him in a room with me."

    Claire frowns. "I don''t think that''s possible. Miguel would avoid facing you like the plague."

    "Let''s see." Gabriel smiles, but she notices his tired, bloodshot eyes, like he has never had a good night''s sleep for some time now. She decides not to mention it. "But for now, you need to relax. Let''s see what happens tomorrow."

    "Okay," Claire says, not feeling okay at all. But it has been a long day, and maybe at some point, it''s only wise to end it. She suddenly feels deeply sentimental, throwing her arms around him. Gabriel is surprised, but he welcomes it, and returns the hug. He breathes in the scent of her hair, her skin, reminding her of freshly picked flowers, of summer mornings, of gentle perfumes¡ªand if he''s not careful, he might even forget himself. Sometimes, it''s moments like this that''s make everything worthwhile. Then an even bigger surprise: Claire touches his chin, tilts it toward her, then gives him a deep, wet kiss that quivers with insatiable longing. He could get lost in that kiss¡ªin his head, galaxies are born, nebulae swirl around the vast blackness, new life sprouts from terra firma, yet none of that shit matters¡ªonly her lips, this kiss, and that unforgettable face whose half-closed eyes speak of a thousand untold stories, all of them of pure unbridled p???sur?.

    "Take care," Claire whispers after the kiss has ended.

    "I will," he says, "because I need to come back to get myself more of that kind of kiss."

    She giggles. "There''s a lot more where that came from." And much, much more¡ªbut this she doesn''t say out loud. She only let her eyes speak it.

    Gabriel was telling the truth, as it turns out¡ªthere are tall, burly guys in black suits standing by her door when she opens it to let him out. They seem like they''re made of stone. Gabriel speaks to them in hushed tones. There''s something military-like in the way they respond to Gab''s instructions; they certainly look like they mean business. Ten Miguels could never take out any one of these guys.

    The new guards and that kiss¡ªthose seem more than enough to ?ssuage her fear. She could sleep tonight, and she could sleep well. Tomorrow is another day, she tells herself. Although she wonders, in the depths of her heart, what Miguel might be doing now¡ªis he well? Is he going to be fine? Little did Claire know that those questions are pointless¡ªright now, guard or no guard, Miguel is standing right across the street, watching The Residence, looking up at the lighted window of the penthouse suite. Waiting for the right time.

 Chapter 130 - The Drunken Master

    Miguel''s vision is spinning, as though he''s on an aircraft on a tailspin to nowhere. His brain is swimming in a shitload of single malt whisky; his body seems on autopilot, and yet he couldn''t control it. He feels, in the dimness of whatever control he had, that if he crosses the road to The Residence, a car would hit him and he would die. He also feels like he doesn''t care; he''s nothing, anyway.

    He didn''t really drink all three bottles of whisky; he''d given up not even halfway through the drinking. He was so restless since that phone call. He''d been itching to go back to The Residence after hearing Claire''s voice. He''s a bit drunk, but he''s fine. He was even able to drive. The winner was the bartender, who not only was able to make a hugely profitable sale of his prized Yamazakis, he got to drink most of it, too. Miguel left him in his bar, still drinking, enjoying the liquor Miguel had paid for. A single bottle cost more than a hundred thousand bucks; all three had set him back by almost four hundred thousand. Was it foolish? Definitely. Does he care about burning money he no longer needs? Definitely not. There''s only one thing that matters in his world right now, and she''s right up there, in that lighted window at the very top of this building; he wonders if she''s dreaming of him. He hopes it''s a good dream.

    The bartender had brought out the bottles of whisky, one by one, so tenderly as if holding a new-born baby, allowing him to check the labels and confirm the provenance was correct. A few years ago, when he was in Tokyo with a girl whose name he no longer remembers, he''d first tasted a glass of Yamazaki, and the extraordinary clean taste of it was like a powerful punch to the face: finer things exist, he realized, and he had yet to discover them all. "To whom or what do we dedicate the p???sur? of this drink?" the bartender had asked him as he offered the first glass. That made Miguel think. "This drink is for all hopelessness," he said, raising the glass. The bartender looked at him, and reciprocated the gesture. "For all hopelessness, then!" Much later, after they had downed a few shots, the bartender said, "Mr. Tan, you have everything in the world. You''re young. You''re famous. You''re rich. I presume the hopelessness is not about you, no?" To which Miguel answered, "Everything is about me, my friend. Everything."

    Indeed, for the longest time, everything revolved around him. He cared about little else. Whenever he liked someone, he got her. Then after he''d consummated his d?s?r?, he''d discard her like trash in the gutter. He never realized that such women had feelings, too. That they got hurt because of his behavior. Now it all comes back to him: is this what they meant when they said "What goes around comes around?"

    Miguel looks to the left and right, making sure the coast is clear. Cars are rarely on the road at this hour; this city, after all, sleeps, too. When he''s sure, he takes a cautious, uneven step forward, crossing the road. It''s almost impossible; he is, after all, considerably drunk. He can hold his drink, but it''s not a constant thing; it wavers and pulsates. There are moments when his vision is clear, there are moments when things appear double, like the world is attempting to spin and spew him out. But he wills himself to be steady; find your center, and settle there. He puts one foot ahead of the other one; he repeats it until the main road gives way to the sidewalk, and the sidewalk shifts to the faux cobblestone pavement of The Residence''s foyer. He repeats it, putting one foot after another, until he comes face to face with a burly, tall-ish man standing by the entrance door.

    Miguel looks up, and in his mind, he''s sure he clearly says, "I''m Miguel Tan. Don''t you know me?"

    But for the doorman, who happens to be one of Gabriel''s bodyguards, he hears him slur something that sounds like, "Ayymmmiggwelddddddyukkkkkknowwwwmmmhuh?"

    The bodyguard knows it''s Miguel Tan, but he has to make sure. He presses an earpiece. "Sir, I believe Mr. Miguel Tan is here."

    "Where is he?" a voice says on the comms.

    "He''s here," the doorman says.

    "Yeah, but where exactly."

    "Right in my face, Sir. He''s standing right in front of me."

    "Jesus. Hold him right there," the voice on the comms says. "And remember, he is not to be hurt in any way. This is the Big Boss''s dear brother. If anything happens to him, even the slightest bruise, and we''d be spearing woodworms for lunch in some god-forsaken island in the Pacific, possibly for the rest of our lives. You got me?"

    "Absolutely, Sir."

    Miguel has been standing there, watching the bodyguard''s face, as all this conversation happens. "Are you new?" he asks.

    Which, again, comes across as, "Arrrryunnnn?..."

    I don''t talk drunk, sir, is what the bodyguard wants to say. But his face stays deadpan, like one of those Royal Guards at Buckingham Palace.

    Miguel stares at the doorman from head to toe, then decides why must he bother with these people. So he proceeds to push his way into the lobby.

    The guard is under instructions to hold Miguel right where he is, so finally, he grabs Miguel''s arm to stop him.

    Despite his whisky-addled brain, Miguel registers shock at the guard''s impudence¡ªand it appears plainly on his face. "Do you know who I am?"

    Somehow, the guard understands it. "Y-yes, Sir, but you can''t really go in there, Sir."

    "I own this building, do you know that? I mean, this is my brother''s building. And we''re family. So technically, this is mine, too. And if you work here, your ?ss is mine, too."

    Whether or not the guard understood Miguel''s long-ish drunken diatribe, he doesn''t show it. He smiles, trying a different tactic. "Mr. Miguel, if you can understand me, I was instructed to let you stay in the lounge, sir."

    "Who instructed you?" he slurs.

    The guard pauses. He has been properly briefed, and although the brief did not include the juicy bits about the whole drama and why they''re "protecting" Miss Claire from the Big Boss''s own brother, he''s not an idiot. He has seen Claire up-close; any man would fall for her. It''s easy to connect the dots.

    "Miss Claire, sir," the guard says, hoping the ruse would work. "She told us to let you wait in the lounge when you arrive."

    In Miguel''s mind, he thinks he is smiling widely. "Really? Have you let her know I''m here already?"

    "Yes, Sir."

    A pause. Miguel looks at the guard''s face, and although his sufficient drunkenness makes his vision come in and out of focus, he could see that the guard looks trustworthy. And besides, he''s sure Claire misses him so, and would only like a most appropriate place to see him. What could be more perfect than the lounge area¡ªdim, private, intimate?

    "Show me the way," Miguel finally says. "Where on this good green Earth is the lounge? And can you place me in the coziest spot?"

    "Yes, Sir," the guard says. He presses his earpiece, and manages to sneak in a little update to his commander. Then holding Miguel by the arm to half-support him, and half-guide him to the lounge''s direction, he says, "Let me just find you the perfect spot."

 Chapter 131 - The Lounge Meeting 2

    Claire thought she''d been dreaming. She heard the desk phone ringing and ringing, and it all seemed so far away. She thought she had gotten up from the bed and walked over to the living room to answer the phone, but like in all dreams, she moved so sluggishly, as though she were underwater. And halfway she realized that no matter how much she tried walking over to the phone, she couldn''t reach it, like she''s walking on a treadmill. She starts running, but to no avail as she appears to be running in place. The phone rings and rings and it would reach a fever pitch until, finally, Claire suddenly opens her eyes and sees the vaulted ceiling of her bedroom, softly illuminated by concealed pin lights.

    She tries to decide whether she''s still asleep or not. Sam the puppy stirs beside her in the bed, but the dog seems to love the luxurious fluffiness of her new place, so it promptly goes back to sleep with a yawn. Then she hears the phone, and it''s ringing for real. She wills herself to get up, and gets rewarded with the beginnings of a headache. Along with the question "What time is it?" is the almost mechanical turn of her eye toward the wall clock, which shows that it''s now three in the morning.

    The phone rings and rings. Suddenly, she realizes this must be Gabriel. Something must have happened. No one calls up anyone at this ungodly hour if it''s not incredibly good news or unbearably bad news. Claire drags herself from the bedroom, but even before she could reach the door, the phone stops ringing and the penthouse suite descends into silence.

    She stands in the hallway as if stung by a bee. Who could have it been? She approaches the phone anyway just to look at the number of the one who was calling her. It was an internal phone call, from The Residence''s front desk. Must be Dale. But as she starts dialing back, the main door buzzes. For a moment she''s seized by a crazy notion: what if Miguel has somehow overpowered the bodyguards and he''s now standing outside with murder in his heart?

    Cautiously, she checks out through the peep hole the visitor. To her relief, it''s actually one of the bodyguards posted outside.

    "Miss Claire, the target is here," the man says, who''s so tall and muscular he seems out of this world, like the next elevated step in human evolution. Beside him is another man of almost similar build, yet he''s obviously of a secondary position. "He''s waiting for you at the lounge."

    Claire blinks. "Waiting for me? But what''s the plan?"

    "Aren''t you supposed to talk to him?"

    "I don''t know. Am I supposed to? What did Gabriel tell you?"

    The man looks at his companion and raises an arm, as though he''s about to scratch his head in bewilderment, then remembers it''s unbecoming for a tall, burly man like him to be scratching his head and not knowing what sh1t is. "I believe our commander has called up Mr. Gabriel and he''s on his way here."

    "Really?" Claire''s truly doubtful. If Gabriel knows, he would have called her up first thing. It''s out of his character to just proceed to driving here. "You better be sure about your information because I don''t want to¡ª"

    "Don''t worry, Miss Claire. There are twelve of us in this building, strategically posted to give your maximum protection. Mr. Miguel is not armed, and he''s drunk. We would have let him get passed out in one of the building''s suites, but he was so insistent. We thought seeing you might calm him down somewhat. We''re under instruction to only keep him there while Mr. Gabriel hasn''t arrived."

    "Okay," Claire says. Then she realizes she''s still in her sleep clothes. "Give me five minutes." She scoots back, rummages through the wardrobe for something appropriate, something casual, but not too casual. Miguel''s drunk, and she''s certainly not gunning to get his attention. And yet, she still wants to look presentable. In the end, she ends up choosing a little black dress, one of the clothes Miss Cassandra had lined up for her to wear for the week. She takes a quick touch-up on the mirror just to make sure there''s not a hair out of place and she doesn''t look like some goddamn idiot. Then out the door she goes.

    Even the two men waiting outside unintentionally let out a sigh of admiration upon seeing her, their eyes going wide for a split-second before remembering who they are and who she is.

    "Shall we go?" she says, closing the door. "What''s your name, by the way?"

    "I¡­uhh," the man stammers, not expecting the Big Boss''s fianc¨¦e to be asking his name. "I''m Mike, Miss Claire. And my companion here is Luke."

    "You''ve been working for Gabriel for how long?" Claire''s curiosity is piqued. Also, she feels she should know the people upon whose shoulders her personal safety depends. She''s read somewhere that it makes bodyguards more efficient when they care about you.

    "I''ve worked for him ever since I got discharged from the Army," Mike says. "Honorably discharged."

    "Do you usually guard his women?" Claire is fishing.

    Mike''s face reddens. He makes a dismissive laugh. "Oh, no, Miss Claire. Luke and me, we usually get posted in establishing security of Mr. Gabriel''s businesses. Whenever he needs people he can trust, we''re the first in line. We''re actually a big team, and securing the safety of personnel is quite rare."

    "You haven''t really answered my question," Claire smiles.

    Mike pauses. "We used to do errands for his ex, Miss Michelle Alcantara. But that''s about it. Mr. Gabriel, as far as I know, is a one-woman man. I''ve never seen him play around. You''re only the other woman, after Michelle, that I''ve seen him with." Mike presses the elevator bu??on and lets his companion step inside first, then Claire, before he closes the door. "Between you and me, Miss Claire, I''ve never seen Mr. Gabriel this happy. Would that be sufficient answer to your question?"

    Clever, Claire thinks. She couldn''t help but smile. "Thank you, Mike. I''ve never been this happy, too." Then she remembers why they''re going down on the elevator in the wee hours of the morning, and she sighs. "But happiness comes at a price, no?"

    "Don''t worry, Ma''am," Mike says. "Miguel Tan is a non-problem. Everything will be alright."

    But as they enter the lounge, and in the far corner, a man suddenly stands up, a man she easily recognizes as Miguel, wobbling as he stands, yelling like some common drunk, "Claire-Bella, isss sooo good to see you!" she realizes maybe Mike is mistaken. Maybe not everything is destined to be alright, after all.

 Chapter 132 - The Slippery Slope

    Even in his whisky-addled vision, Miguel sees an "angel." He could see more or less clearly what a vision of beauty Claire is, with that s?xy little black dress, wearing what his other friends would describe as f¨¹ck me pumps. The trouble is, he doesn''t have a solid control of his own body; he''s trapped in the back corner of his brain, watching this all unfold, like a backseat driver. Excitedly, he greets her with the most gracious greeting he could muster, but somehow he has a sense that that went down rather poorly, he''s just not sure how. He couldn''t read the emotion on Claire''s face, but who could blame her? He tried to grab her in the dark, for pete''s sakes! So whatever Claire''s expression is, he will ignore it; he''ll understand. "Please, sit here, and thank you," Miguel says.

    Claire glances at the men who came with her. Mike nods, as if saying, "It''s alright. We''re managing this." Then he turns around, touching his earpiece, speaking to someone. She sighs; there are people here, and Miguel seems fine, only drunk. But she highly doubts if a real conversation is capable of happening, given the situation.

    Gingerly, she takes the seat proffered to her, while Miguel seems all smiles. He takes the seat opposite hers and puts his hands on the table, as though waiting for something. He fidgets; he couldn''t even look straight at her. Like he''s looking at someone behind her. "How are you?" he says after a while.

    "I''m good. And you?"

    "I''m superfine." Miguel laughs. "You know, with all things considered."

    "So what is this about?"

    He scratches his chin. "Remember our talk earlier? You said you wanted to speak to me."

    "But you hung up on me before we could agree on a time and place."

    "That''s the thing, Claire. I don''t want you to set up the time and place. I want to set it on my own terms."

    Claire tries hard not to scoff at him. "And your terms include barging in here at this hour?"

    "Oh, I didn''t ''barge'' in here," Miguel makes an exaggerated shrug. "I came with an escort. An escort. See that guy over there? Big muscular arms, twice my size, but I''m pretty sure very, very little d??k." He laughs at his own joke for a long awkward moment, then he settles with a giggle. "It appears my brother has sent his army here. All for you, Claire. All for you. Is he that afraid of me?"

    She shakes her head. "He''s not afraid of you, Miguel. He''s afraid FOR you. He''s afraid of the damage you can do to yourself."

    "Oh, really?" Miguel''s laughter is hard, desperate, drunken. "Did he say that? Or did you just make that up?"

    "It is the truth," she says, and wonders why Gabriel has not appeared yet. What''s the game here? Is she meant to shake Miguel up, compel him to say what he really wants to say? But Miguel''s intention is plain as day; what this man needs is to be straightened out. "But let''s get down to business, Miguel. Are you capable of that?"

    "Sure," he says, but he''s still giggling.

    Claire sighs; there''s no point in speaking to this man. Not in this state. "Listen. If you don''t take this seriously, I will stand up, go back to my room, and have these men escort you out of the premises."

    Miguel looks at her, not believing a word she says. He giggles. "Really?"

    That''s it. She stands up and appears to walk out, but Miguel also stands up and changes demeanor and tactic. "I''m sorry, but let''s talk now. I was just kidding."

    He smiles, and for a moment he looks like he''s going to laugh again, but Claire points a finger to his face. "Miguel, I respect you as Gabriel''s brother, but if you laugh again, I will walk out."

    The smile promptly leaves Miguel''s face as he sits down. He rubs his eyes with his palms, clears his throat. "What do you want to talk about?"

    Claire stares at him. "The big drunken elephant in the room."

    "Elephant?"

    "You, Miguel. You''ve gotta stop. You have to promise me that you will respect me from now on. No more inappropriate advances from you. Or else, God knows what I will do."

    Miguel says nothing. He''s staring at Claire''s hands as she makes these cute gestures while she talks, like she''s up on some stage delivering a speech. "I''ll¡­I''ll think about it."

    She glares at him, unable to believe what she heard. "What? You''re not going to think about it. You''re going to do it. For the sake of your brother. For your own sake. Don''t you love and respect Gabriel anymore?" Then in a softer voice. "What happened to you, Migs?"

    "You happened to me," he says, smiling sadly. "The heart wants what it wants, Claire. And I don''t know what to do. All I think about is you. Nothing else. I love you so much!"

    "How can that be true? How can you love me? We don''t have memories together. You just like me, not love me. You just like what you''re seeing. You can only feel love after we spent years together, sharing our happiness and pain, and enduring through it all. That''s love. That''s what I''m willing to have with Gabriel. I hate to say this, but there''s only one me. If I could split myself in two, bizarre as this may seem, I would willingly give half of me to you. But you know that''s not possible. I only have one heart to give, and I''ve given it already to Gabriel." And for the first time in a long time, Claire reaches out on the table to hold Miguel''s hand. "You''re not like this, Miguel. You''re an alpha male, as Gabriel once told me. You make conquests easily. But true love, it can only be found once, and you can''t force it to be given to you. Let it come to you, when you''re ready. But please, understand that you must learn to recognize when you have lost, and when to move on."

    Miguel says nothing; he just lets her hold his hand. She''s begging, pleading, and there are tears in her eyes. She really must hate him, wants him out of her life. Part of him understands what she''s saying, and he wants to give in to that; yet, part of him tenaciously holds onto the thought, maybe an illusion, that perhaps if he plays his cards right, he could still have her. Gabriel can easily find someone else. Gabriel does not love her as much as he does, this Miguel believes. This, Miguel uses to justify everything he''s been doing.

    He gently squeezes Claire''s hands. "Alright. I will do what you say. But can you give me one last favor?" Yet, before Claire could speak, he suddenly stands up and throws his arms around her, then begins smothering her with desperate kisses. And all Claire could do is try to squirm away from him. In the corner of her eye, she sees a figure pouncing toward them, bounding angrily, like a predator to his prey. Then a pair of hands grab Miguel by his shirt collar and yanks him away from her so savagely that Miguel stumbles backward, in an awkward drunken dance, until he slips on the floor, his head hitting a nearby table''s edge hard.

    And all Claire could do is scream¡ªbecause even in the lounge''s subdued light, she could see there''s blood on the floor.

 Chapter 133 - The Sheer Craziness

    It all feels like the world has slowed down to a single moment: Miguel''s body arching backward as he''s yanked away, the back of his head hitting the table. She will never forget that sound, of bone smashing against something harder. She will never forget how Miguel let out a sort of whimper, from pain or surprise, she''ll never know. All she knew is how the whole thing unfolded and shocked her to the core. And in the middle of it all is Gabriel, who, in his panic after what he presumed to be a timely swooping in to save her, throws his arms around her to calm her down.

    "It''s alright, Claire," Gabriel whispers. "It''s alright. Miguel and I will¡­"

    Yet Claire screams, and struggles away from him to point a finger at the person on the floor. Only then does Gabriel turn around and see where Miguel is¡ªand his jaw drops. He stands there stunned, looking at his brother, at the blood crawling on the marble floor, and in that maddeningly terrible split second he connects the dots: he only grabbed his brother''s collar just to get him away from Claire, who had been utterly terrified; he remembers how he had savagely done so with all his strength, forgetting for a moment that this man was Miguel.

    She m??ns, "He''s¡­He''s bleeding¡­"

    Her words bring Gabriel back to the present. By then people had arrived, helping Miguel sit up. Gabriel screams, "Don''t touch him! You''ll hurt him more!" So everyone takes a step back and gives him the floor.

    Gabriel kneels down beside his brother and gently touches the back of his head. His heart leaps in his throat¡ªhe feels the warm gush of blood. "Jesus¡­." He looks around, and sees his people gaping at the sight of them.

    "An ambulance is on its way," Dale says, appearing out of nowhere, his voice trembling.

    "No," he mutters. "We can''t wait for that." He looks at Miguel''s face, who finally seems peaceful. Gabriel can''t yet wrap around his head the realization that he might have killed his brother. Even if it seemed warranted. Even if that was never his intention; he only wanted to pry him away from Claire. Why did you force my hand, Migs? Tears peep out of the corners of his eyes. I''ll make this right, he mutters.

    Claire has also knelt beside him, and she''s crying. She touches Miguel''s cheek, muttering, "I''m sorry," over and over.

    "It''s not your fault," Gabriel says. Then using both his arms to prop his brother''s body up, he barks orders through gritted teeth. "Help me get him to a vehicle. We can''t wait for an ambulance. Have the car ready out front!"

    Some of the bodyguards help him carry Miguel, while others have already run outside, coordinating traffic, opening the doors for them. Thankfully, Gabriel''s Benz SUV is already waiting outside, its doors open.

    "Claire," Gabriel says out loud, as they struggle to place Miguel on the seat in a comfortable position.

    "I''m here," Claire responds, obviously trying to steel her resolve, although her voice cracks. The crowd parts to give way to her. "I won''t leave you."

    Dale jumps into the car to hold Miguel and make sure his head stays in place. While Gabriel slips into the driver''s seat, with Claire beside him. He nods at the head of his guards, who gets the silent order: they''re supposed to stay behind and wait at The Residence.

    If he could make the car fly, he would, pedal to the metal. But he straddles the fine line between trying to reach the hospital as fast as he could, and taking utmost care to keep Miguel from shaking too much as it might cause unintended damage to his injury. Gabriel glances at the rearview mirror; he couldn''t see Miguel from this angle, but he could see the leather seat smeared with blood, and the sight of it only makes his heart pound even madly. Hold on, Migs, he mutters to himself. Don''t di¡ªand he stops there, not wanting to mention the "die" word, not now, not when hope seems ebbing away.

    Right beside him, Claire couldn''t stop sobbing. And Gabriel doesn''t know what to feel or think anymore¡ªhe feels sorry for her, but Miguel''s situation is deathly urgent, like he couldn''t even tell her to stop crying because it''s all fine, Miguel would be okay. It''s all complicated, as this moment is suffocating from so many layers of conflict that in the end, Gabriel focuses on the road ahead, trying to keep his mind on only one single thing: the hospital.

    "His pulse is very weak," Dale mutters from behind him. "He''s¡­" His voice trails off.

    "Oh, God, no¡­" Claire cries out. "Please, no¡­"

    Gabriel uses all his willpower not to give in. Thank God, the traffic is light because of the hour, and they''re zipping by intersections and roads that are usually congested with traffic. "We''re almost there," he mutters, to no one in particular, his eyes on the road, always on the road.

    And in that quiet moment where nothing else seems to exist but him and the asphalt road ahead, the previous events play and replay themselves in his head. He got word from one of his men that Miguel had appeared at The Residence, looking for Claire, reeking of booze. He wasn''t worried at all; he knew Claire is such a tiger when it comes to self-defense, and there were a dozen highly trained bodyguards posted in the building. And of course, he knew his brother well; after all, as they always say, Miguel is a lover, not a fighter. All his well-toned muscles were for show, sculpted in modern body-building gyms, under the watchful eye of a fitness trainer. He wouldn''t be able to hurt her seriously, not with his bodyguards around. But still, he raced to The Residence upon receiving the call, leaving instructions to let Claire know. He had a plan: Claire could begin the "talk", the kind of talk that had been long requested. The talk could get the ball rolling. Miguel would be able to say things he wouldn''t say if Gabriel''s around. And it seemed perfect. Gabriel arrived at The Residence just as Claire and Miguel were sitting down to talk. He waited, watching them, listening to where the conversation would lead. And as it turned out, he was disappointed with his brother; Miguel appeared to have no intention at all of making an actual, fruitful conversation. He kept hee-hawing, always saying one inanity after another. And to his utter amazement, Miguel pounced on her like a wild animal¡ªupon seeing that, Gabriel jumped from where he''d been observing them, and with his mind white from sudden rage, he saw his own hand grabbed Miguel''s collar from behind, and then with all his anger in that hand, yanked him away as though Gabriel were trying to rip him to shreds.

    He had murder in his veins at that moment, Gabriel realizes now. How could he do that? There''s no simple answer. But at this moment, as his Benz SUV eats the road at more than a hundred miles an hour, all he wants is to save Miguel''s life. Because he would never be able to forgive himself.

    "Thank, God!" Dale blurts out in the back. "We''re here!"

    On reflex, Gabriel looks up; only then he sees the bright "Emergency" signage just a few meters ahead of them. And as the car eases into the front of the ER entrance, Gabriel gets that queasy weird feeling. This is the same hospital where, not too long ago, Miguel and Claire had stood vigil awaiting him to get back from his coma. Strange and sad how things have turned out.

    Upon seeing the car, the hospital staff scramble to roll out a stretcher. They must have recognized the Benz, or the car plate. But when they open the car''s door, the sight of Dale, his eyes bloodshot, with an unmoving Miguel on his ??p, drops their jaws. "Sir Gabriel," Dale mutters, his voice cracking. "Sir, your brother doesn''t seem to be¡­He doesn''t seem to be breathing anymore."

    That''s when all hell breaks loose.

 Chapter 134 - The Terrible, Terrible Thing

    Upon hearing Dale, something snaps in Gabriel''s head, and instantly he''s a man transformed. He yells for the doctor, who happens to be the person standing beside him. The male nurses all act in coordinated movement, putting Miguel on the stretcher. They quickly wheel him into the hospital, with the doctor barking orders to the nurses for the drugs to prep as they run toward the nearest emergency room slot.

    Gabriel''s head is spinning as he watches the scene unfold. He''s like having an out-of-body event, his soul watching his body watching his brother getting intubated, getting shocked back to life, receiving all sorts of meds to resuscitate him. And in all of it, what''s striking is the amount of blood seeping out of his brother, and yet he couldn''t even locate Miguel''s injury. As if Miguel''s entire head is bleeding.

    Claire has stopped crying. She feels as if she''s lost all her tears. Her throat is parched, like she has lost her voice. She gives Gabriel space, but she stays beside him to make him feel that she''s always there. That she will not leave him.

    "Please give us space," the doctor yells to no one in particular, but it is of course directed at them. Gabriel takes a step back, reaching out for Claire''s hand.

    She wants to tell him Miguel''s going to be fine, but somehow, right now, words feel cheap, wanting. As though there are no words that could describe this moment, here in this emergency room, Gabriel''s brother fighting for his life on that flimsy little hospital bed.

    The sound of the machine indicates that Miguel has flat-lined. The doctor gives his nurses a meaningful look, then makes a gesture that says they''re going to again defibrillate him. He counts quietly, then pumps a considerable amount of energy into Miguel''s ?h?st, which heaves, then falls. The doctor performs CPR on the patient, but still, the machine beeps steadily. Again, the electric paddle of the defibrillator is applied. Miguel''s ?h?st heaves, then falls, then heaves, then falls. The doctor waits; his eyes look steadily at the monitor beside them.

    Then for a maddening moment, as though a miracle, the flat line quivers, a single tiny beep, followed by another, then another, until the beating becomes regular. Weak, but at least there it is.

    The room exudes a collective sigh of relief. But the doctor has just started. He turns to Gabriel. "Sir, we''d have to ask you to wait outside. We need to perform emergency surgery on him. He must have lost a lot of blood."

    Gabriel only nods his head distractedly, still trying to process what just happened. Miguel was lost and was back from the darkness in a span of a few moments, and everything seems happening so quickly.

    They stand in the lobby of the hospital, which at this hour was mostly empty, cavernous.

    "Sir, do you need anything?" Dale asks. "Coffee?"

    "Sorry," Gabriel snaps out of it. "Don''t mind me. I''m fine. Claire, you might want to go back to your place? You don''t need to stay here. Dale can go with you."

    Claire shakes her head. "No, I''m staying here. I won''t leave you." She gives him a warm, desperate embrace. And just like that, Gabriel starts crying; it starts with a quiet sniffle, then he collapses in Claire''s arms. Something inside him has broken down, and he just lets it all go.

    Dale looks away, trying to stop his tears, too. This is the first time he''s seen Gabriel this vulnerable, and it''s awkward and painful to see.

    Claire wants to cry, too, but she steels herself and stifles her own tears, trying to act as the stronger person here. Gabriel is a drowning man, and she can''t let both of them tumble down into this dark abyss.

    After a while, Dale quietly walks away. He understands finally. After all, there''s still trouble at The Residence and he might be needed there; he''ll be more useful there. Gabriel and Claire need space for themselves, and his presence is probably just a distraction.

    Gabriel has been crying because in his head, a lifetime of memories with his brother parade themselves in his mind''s eye: how it was Miguel who often stood up to schoolyard bullies, saving his older brother''s ?ss countless times; how Miguel looked after him, which was odd because he was supposedly the younger one; how he had always given way to Gabriel, even ignoring his own needs and feelings. Years of memories, all heartbreakingly good.

    Gabriel couldn''t still wrap his head around the fact of Miguel''s sudden transformation. He used to be a cool guy, aware of his power and his charm and used his qualities to seduce women. Why would he fall so hard for the very woman he also loves? Isn''t this a strange twist of fate? Probably a joke from whoever''s crafting their destinies, but these thoughts leave bitter tears. Worse, technically, it was him who almost killed Miguel. Killed. His life snuffed out, just like that. And because of what? A madness, which Gabriel could really understand from the bottom of his heart, because he''d been in that place, too, not too long ago. Only he was the more fortunate one.

    He breathes in Claire''s scent and somehow, slowly, clarity returns in his head. She''s still here. She''s still in his arms. And Miguel has returned to life, if only by a thread¡ªGabriel tenaciously hangs on to these positive things to help him find his center, to feel his way around this maddening moment.

    And as though she has read his mind, she looks up and seeks out his lips, and kisses him. A tender, loving kiss, to remind him that, after everything that has happened, there''s a silver lining somewhere.

    "He''ll be fine," Claire finally says. "He''s a Tan, right? You and your brother, you don''t get defeated by something like this."

    "Yeah," Gabriel says, his cheeks still wet with tears. "Yeah, he''ll be fine. The bugger''s strong as an ox."

    Claire smiles sadly. "Have a little faith. Maybe there''s a reason why this had to happen."

    He nods; there are a million words that try to come out of his mouth, but they all lodge in his throat. He sighs and looks around the empty lobby. The nurse station is manned by a lone staff. The emergency room''s door is still closed, and somewhere, within that zone, Miguel is fighting for his life. Gabriel won''t even dare go to that place where Miguel fails; it is unthinkable. And yet.

    "Why does this have to happen? He''d been a good person. What happened to him?"

    Claire sighs. "I''ve been asking myself that same question for days now." She takes his hands, squeezing them in that peculiar way that only Claire could do; it is one of her cute, heartwarming gestures.

    Gabriel shakes his head but says nothing. Truly, he can''t really blame Miguel for falling hard for this woman. But the intensity of how that love has consumed him is baffling, to say the least. He''d been wanting to understand what his brother was going through, if only Miguel gave him a chance. And now Gabriel is afraid that everything too late.

    They were both jolted from their thoughts when the emergency room doors swing open. The doctor, who looks like he''d run through a gauntlet, approaches them, taking away his surgical mask. "Mr. Gabriel," he begins, his weariness evident in his eyes. "Your brother is stable for now. But there''s something we need to address urgently. We need to replace the blood he has lost. We have to perform a blood transfusion."

    Gabriel''s eyes go wide. "Then please do what''s necessary. Please go ahead, save my brother!"

    "That''s the problem," the doctor says, sighing. "Your brother''s blood type is AB negative. It''s quite rare. We haven''t had a stock of that blood type for a month now. We called the blood banks in the city, and so far, we haven''t located the needed one bag of that blood."

    "I''ll give him my blood, everything you need. I''m AB positive. Is it possible?"

    "I''m sorry," the doctor says. "AB negative cannot receive from an AB positive. He can only receive from¡ª"

    "I''m AB negative, Doc," Claire jumps in, her voice tremulous. "He can receive my blood, right?"

    The doctor''s eyes light up. "Really? Well, of course. But let us test you first. Then if it''s good, we''ll proceed with the extraction immediately."

    "Extraction?" Claire repeats; right up to that moment, she didn''t realize what it would take to get her blood to Miguel.

    "Yes, extraction," the doctor says. "We''d need a full bag of blood from you."

    Claire looks at Gabriel; she''d give her life to save Miguel, but she pictures the needle they will stick into her, and she feels like fainting. Yet, she holds onto his arms to steady herself. "Let''s do it," she says, her voice firm. "I''m pretty sure I can handle one bag of blood. Bring it on."

 Chapter 135 - The Bloody Darned Thing

    Gabriel''s mouth hangs open as he watches Claire offering herself to donate her blood. Suddenly he sees a different dimension of this woman. And if he''d known how Claire is so frightened of needles, he''d appreciate more the magnitude of this gesture.

    "Are you sure about this?" he asks as they walk toward wherever the nurses are taking them.

    "Are you serious, Gab? This is for Miguel. There''s not even time for having second thoughts." Yet, even as she says this, her mouth, her face is pale, like she''s just trying to steel her resolve and ignore the bu??erflies in her stomach.

    "Yeah, but¡­" Gabriel shrugs. He''s about to say something, but in the end he chooses to keep quiet. Give the floor to Claire. He''s useless, anyway. And between Claire doing this grand gesture and his guilt for having had a direct hand in Miguel''s accident, Gabriel is in a bad place; he''s almost at the end of his tether. His mind is unspooling, and his emotions are not helping, either. But he wills himself to keep it all together; this is not a time to panic.

    Gabriel is made to wait in a small waiting area right outside a holding room. But he couldn''t help it; he''s worried about her, about his brother, and how the walls seem closing in. There''s a small glass panel that allows him to see what''s happening in the room, and he could see her, by a desk filling out some form. The nurse watches by, ready for any clarification Claire might have. Yet, Claire continues writing, answering the questions, never looking up.

    After she''s done with the form, the nurse informs her that she''s checking some of her vitals, her blood pressure, et cetera. She nods, determined to see this through. Outside, she sees him, his face long from worry. She shrugs and smiles, as though telling him to take it a bit easy. He smiles back.

    The nurse takes a few more minutes to get things in order. Finally, she ?ssists Claire on the bed, with a tray of contraptions on one side. The nurse starts setting up what looks like a bag of plastic attached on a tripod. The nurse proceeds in closely examining Claire''s arm, maybe looking for a good vein. Bravely, Claire looks at what the nurse is doing, but when the nurse swabs that small place in her arm with alcohol-soaked cotton and prepares the needle, she finally looks away, bracing up for the inevitable. She again sees Gabriel outside the window. Gabriel makes a little wave, like some parent watching his child on the first day of school. Claire smiles weakly; her eyes tell him the same confusion he has.

    "I love you," Gabriel mouths out. She responds with the same. He nods, as though telling her it''s alright. She smiles again. "I will wait here," he mouths again. She nods.

    When Gabriel disappears from the window, Claire closes her eyes. She can feel that weird sensation, like her blood is flowing out. She turns to her side and sees the IV line running with her blood down to the bag, which is slowly filling up. In her mind, she tries to go to that special place: in her parents'' farm somewhere in the north of the country, with its little fruit orchard, a barn full of animals, and its peaceful days. How many years has it been? Four? Five? She feels the ache of longing for how things were in her life, as the blood flows into the bag, ushering her to sleep.

    Meanwhile, Gabriel is restless. He paces the floor outside the room. When the nurse comes out, he pounces on her with a question: "How long is the extraction going to take?"

    The nurse blinks upon seeing him. She consults her chart. "Oh, Miss Monteverde? That should take about an hour, give or take."

    Gabriel looks at her watch and makes mental calculations. "That long, huh?"

    The nurse shrugs. "We have no choice. If it''s up to us, we''d need that blood as soon as possible." A beat. "Did the doctor mention that we actually need two bags of blood? We can only take one bag from her. While that might suffice for the mean time, we''d need more."

    "Jesus," Gabriel mutters. "And I can''t donate my own blood."

    "Maybe ask your people, Mr. Tan," a voice bu??s in, who turns out to be Miguel''s doctor. "We''d need to be sure. We can''t get more than a bag of blood from Miss Monteverde. Normally we need two, but for contingency, getting three more bags of blood would take care of our present need, while the extra can be stored just in case your brother needs more."

    Gabriel gazes at the doctor and the nurse''s faces. "And we need them now, right?"

    The doctor nods. "Your brother''s condition is stable, so far. We''ve run scans, and fortunately there are no contusions. He''s not internally hemorrhaging. The only problem is the blood loss. We''ve also found elevated levels of alcohol in his blood, which worsened it."

    Gabriel looks around. It''s not even morning yet; the sun is yet to rise in about an hour. "Okay, Doc, please do what you can do. Give him the best possible care. I want nurses by his side at all times. One, no, I mean, two of your best nurses, for each of the three shifts every day."

    The doctor starts to protest. "But that would be an unnecessary cost¡ª"

    "I don''t care, Doc. Please keep him in your best equipped intensive care unit. I can''t let anything bad happen to him, not on my watch."

    The doctor and his nurse look at each other, then the doctor nods. He says nothing, not that he feels the need to, because Gabriel, with things on his mind, is already on the phone, dialing whoever he can contact.

    Elsewhere in the city, Mrs. Gomez is dreaming of some tropical beach. There''s the requisite refreshing ???ktail in her hand, while a man half her own age applies sunblock lotion on her th??hs. Then the man stops massaging her, and looks straight at her with those blue eyes."Why did you stop? Keep on going," she commands. But the man grins; then when he opens his mouth, an ear-shattering scream comes out, like the maddening horns of an oncoming train.

    Mrs. Gomez bolts up; she discovers the phone on her bedside desk has been ringing. Beside her, her husband snores loudly; not even the shrill scream of the phone could wake him up. She sighs and yanks the phone from the cradle.

    "Whoever the hell this is, you better have something good," she snarls into the phone.

    "Mrs. Gomez," Gabriel says, "I need your help."

    "Sir Gabriel?" Mrs. Gomez squints as she looks at the clock to make sure it''s not actually nine in the morning. Outside, the world is still dark, although it''s starting to wake up. "What made you call me at this ungodly hour? Anything happened? How''s Claire?"

    "She''s fine, Mrs. Gomez," he says. A beat. "I need blood."

    "A what?"

    "Miguel was in some kind of accident. I''m now in the hospital. We need blood for him. For the transfusion."

    "Jesus," Mrs. Gomez mutters as she hurries up, running out the door, her hands rifling through the wardrobe. "Jesus Henry Christ, Mr. Tan. What in hell happened? What kind of blood does he need? If he needs that, this means he needs it immediately."

    "I only learned he''s AB negative. I''m not sure what else, but Claire''s in a room somewhere here having her blood extracted, which thankfully matches what Miguel needs. But we need a couple of bags more."

    "Jesus," Mrs. Gomez exclaims in her raspy voice. "I don''t even remember what my blood type is. But I will ask around. I''m going there right now. But I will call up your people at The Residence, maybe some of them can volunteer to donate."

    Gabriel sighs. "Thank you."

    "Don''t think about that. Take care of yourself and Claire, over there. Where''s Miguel now?"

    "He''s in the intensive care unit. He''s fine, stable. But I''m getting this weird vibe from the doctor that he''s not saying everything, like he''s just managing my expectations."

    "Let''s not even go there and be full-on bleak, Mr. Tan. If the doctor says he''s fine, let''s hold on to that. Does the hospital know it is you, Sir?"

    "Yeah, I think so."

    "Or maybe they don''t. Maybe in the blur of panic, nobody recognized who you are. I''m calling up the president of that hospital, which I presume is the one on Downey Street, right? Where you had been confined previously? I''m calling him up. Just to make sure the doctor and nurses sent to care for Miguel are nothing but the best. I''m taking care of this."

    Mrs. Gomez is a revelation, Gabriel realizes. Of course he could have done all of that. He sensed the doctor knew of him. But the old lady is right; never resort to ?ssumptions, especially in a critical time such as this. He''s already weary from everything that has happened in the past few days; he could use a little help. So all he manages to say is "Thank you."

    After Gabriel hangs up, Mrs. Gomez promptly begins working the phone: her first phone call: Dale, whose own actions in these critical hours would determine if whether or not Miguel gets what he needs, or not.

 Chapter 136 - The Blood Drive

    Every early morning, Dale, as general manager of The Residence, gathers up the staff in a quick briefing. All the employees stand in a few rows in the lobby, listening at attention to Dale''s talk. While this seems unnecessary¡ªthey are serving only one person, for crying out loud¡ªDale knows that the entire building has so many moving parts, and he wants to be always on top of every possible situation. After all, if any small part of the single-serving boutique hotel deteriorates, it would be his ?ss on the line, answerable to Gabriel Tan.

    He had just arrived from the hospital. The staff, consisting of housekeeping, to security, to chefs, already know about the crisis with their boss. "Sir Miguel is, so far, in a stable condition," Dale says, not really fully confident that Miguel''s stable. But he has to keep up appearances. "And we have to be extra attentive to what we do, just in case our services are needed beyond the walls of this building."

    When the Concierge desk''s phone begins ringing, almost everybody turns to it with bated breath.

    Dale stares at the phone, his heart pounding. Might it be from the hospital, bearing bad news?

    "Should I answer it, Sir?" Lucille says, who is standing right in the front line. "Maybe it''s an emergency. Maybe it''s Miss Claire?"

    Jesus, Dale thinks. Can we panic some more?

    Warily, he picks up the phone, like he''s afraid it might bite him. "Hello?"

    "You should have picked up the phone next century," Mrs. Gomez''s raspy voice blasts his ears. "Five rings, Dale. That''s atrocious!"

    "I-I''m sorry, Ma''am," Dale says, instantly recognizing who it is. "I was briefing the staff and¡ª"

    "Goodness! I''m just right on time, then!" she says. "Listen, Dale. Did you know what happened with the Tans?"

    "Yes, I¡ª"

    "Good! Then listen to me closely. Miguel Tan needs blood. It''s an emergency."

    "I know. Because I¡ª"

    "This is a super emergency, Dale! I already spoke with the president of that hospital. It''s true that they don''t have any stored blood that can be received by Miguel Tan. There was a recent surge in dengue fever cases that depleted much of their stocks. They tried the nearby blood banks. None. The problem is, Miguel''s blood type is super rare. AB negative, do you hear? So I need you to ask your good men and women over there if any of them would have the good heart to try to donate, if they can."

    "Well, absolutely!" Dale looks around even as he speaks to the phone. "Ma''am, what blood types can serve as donors?"

    Mrs. Gomez is stumped; she didn''t ask. "What the hell, just ask everybody who''s willing to go over the hospital. Let the learned folks over there decide."

    "But there are dozens of us here, Ma''am, how about¡ª"

    "Make it absolutely simple, Dale," Mrs. Gomez says finally in her [email protected] tone. "Just ask them if they can help you or not. We''re not forcing anyone. This is completely voluntary."

    Dale pauses. Of course, nothing''s voluntary here. There''s something about Mrs. Gomez''s tone that says, if we don''t see you at the hospital, you''re marked. "Yes, Ma''am. I will be on it."

    After Mrs. Gomez hangs up, Dale faces the crowd. He clears his throat. He wonders how many of them would volunteer. "That was our boss''s right-hand woman. As you know, Miguel Tan had an accident earlier here, right in the lounge. Some of you had the unfortunate task of cleaning up the blood and the mess. You''ve seen how much blood that was." He takes a deep breath, gazing at their faces. "Miguel Tan, our boss''s beloved brother, is hanging on for dear life. They''re asking for anyone who might donate some blood. It was a delicate situation, and what they need is not readily available. So they''re asking if some of you might be willing to come with me to the hospital and see if we can be a donor."

    "Do we have to go now, Sir?" Someone from the back row says.

    "Yes, I''m afraid so. Those who would not volunteer will be staying here, keep an eye on things." Dale looks around. "So those of you who would like to volunteer, give me a show of hands."

    "It''s a blood donation, Sir, right?" Lucille says, her face pale. "They''re going to stick a needle into us?"

    "Of course," Dale says, trying to smile, even though he also realizes now: Jesus Christ, I''m terrified of needles, how do I face that?

    "Oh, my God," Lucille squeaks. "Would you know how big a needle they''d use?"

    "Jesus, Lucille," Dale says, his voice intentionally loud to inspire fear in their hearts, and also for those in the back rows to hear. "Do not think about the goddamn needle, okay? This is not about the needle, or whatever size it is. This is about potentially saving a life. This is about a once-in-a-lifetime thing to do something meaningful." Dale looks at each of their faces, trying to make eye contact as much as possible. "Sure, we are merely employees here. We do our jobs, we get paid, and that''s about it. But Gabriel Tan treated us more than just his hired help. Gabriel, despite his temper, took care of us, even our families. Did he ever let us down? Hasn''t he been so generous during the holidays? Some of you here were transplanted from his other companies and may have been working for him far longer than I am¡ªhave you ever experienced Gabriel ever saying no, especially if it''s about a sick loved one? Someone''s ailing mother, school fees for one of your kids, clearer career path? Despite his reputation and temper and what-have-you, Gabriel Tan is a beautiful human being with a heart of gold. And now he needs us. He only has one brother. We all know how much Gabriel loved him, despite the situation. Despite whatever that had transpired between them. I, for one, will be first in line to offer my blood. I''m not sure if I''m qualified, but I will be right there, first in line, to give back whatever I can to the person who had given so much to me and my family." He pauses, waiting for his words to sink in. "So let me ask you again, anyone who volunteers, please give me a show of hands."

    Silence descends on the room. Everyone''s just gazing at him, as though just waiting for him to leave. Then suddenly, Lucille raises her arm. "I''m terrified of needles, Sir, but I''ll be next to you in line. Count me in!"

    Dale breathes a sigh of relief. At least there are two of them who can show up at the hospital.

    But then someone at the back yells, "Count me in!" Then another in front raises an arm and says, "You don''t even have to ask. I''m here for the boss." Then it is followed by another, and another, and another. Until everyone in the lobby''s chattering excitedly, as though they''re all going to some corporate excursion or something.

    Dale chokes on this show of support. The truth is, he never expected this. He wipes a tear with the back of his hand, as he gazes at his team proudly. A couple of them volunteering would have been enough; he wouldn''t lose face to his superiors. But the whole The Residence team volunteering in unison¡ªthat would be astounding, and Gabriel would be glad. "Thank you," he manages to mutter. "Thank you all."

    "But is there a way we can donate without the needle?" Lucille says again.

    "Lucille," Dale says, as patiently as he can. "The needle does not feel a darned thing. And we don''t even know who will qualify as a donor."

    "Okay," Lucille says, not looking okay at all; she''s already there in that hospital, in that bed, with a nurse who''s about to stab her with a gigantic needle. She cringes, but Dale suddenly taps her gently on the shoulder.

    "Don''t worry," he says. "If you qualify, I''ll be right beside you. I will even hold your hand. I''ll make sure the nurse uses the tiniest needle on Earth. It would even hurt less than an ant bite." He smiles.

    "Okay, Dale," she says finally, smiling. The truth is, Lucille just wants to prolong her interaction with Dale. And now that he''s noticed her, it''s mission accomplished.

    Dale claps his hands. "People, we''re going there now. We''re using the hotel''s tour bus. Should fit all of us nicely. We''ll lock up the whole place, and I ?ssume we''ll be back in a few hours even before the morning''s over."

    "Yes, Sir!" the team says in unison.

    Dale turns to Lucille. He takes her hand. "I''m holding your hand as one professional to another, Lucille." He smiles. "Because I don''t want you to be frightened of anything. I won''t leave your side."

    Lucille smiles, too. And did she just feel him squeeze her hand a little bit? Today might be the most exciting day she''s had in a long while.

    Meanwhile, as these things are happening, Mrs. Gomez is in a taxicab on the main avenue on the way to the hospital, yelling at the poor cab driver to "Make freaking sure to keep the pedal to the metal like your life depended on it!"

 Chapter 137 - The Warm Bodies

    It''s already morning proper when Mrs. Gomez reaches the hospital. It took her just a minute to find Gabriel, sitting alone in the small waiting area outside the ICU.

    "You don''t look like you''ve had at least a cup of coffee, Mr. Tan," she says, trying to smile. "Would you like me to go and fetch one for you?"

    Gabriel sighs. "Thank you, I''m fine. And thank you for coming here."

    Mrs. Gomez takes the seat next to him. She gazes around, as though looking for someone. "How''s Miguel?"

    "He''s fine. At least his vitals are stable. He''s asleep. We''re all just waiting for the blood."

    "What the hell happened to him?"

    Gabriel looks at her, sadness in his eyes. "You are aware of Miguel''s thing for Claire, right? You''ve witnessed it."

    The moment she hears "Miguel" and "Claire" in the same sentence, Mrs. Gomez is struck with an epiphany; she instantly connects the dots. The memory of that moment in Gabriel''s office, where she egged Claire to tell Miguel the truth even if it hurt, flashes in her head. Is this her fault? "I think I am very dimly aware of any of that, Mr. Tan, if ever that existed, that thing," she stammers.

    "Well, the thing was, we had a fall-out recently, Miguel and I, because he tried to do a bad thing to her."

    "What? Like what kind of a bad thing?"

    Gabriel pauses, weighing his words. "He tried to jump on her the other day. Right in the office building."

    "He did what?" Blood has left Mrs. Gomez''s face. Again, her brain connects the dots; the other morning was when Miguel visited the office¡ªdid the attack happen right after that? Jesus Henry Christ! "Oh, my God, how''s Claire? Was she hurt?"

    "Thankfully, she was able to defend herself and escape. And I didn''t know any of that until last night. Or maybe it was all my fault because I had been in denial. I should have listened to the clues. I thought Miguel would get over her when he sees that she''s with me. But I was dead wrong."

    Mrs. Gomez obviously hangs on his every word. She feels guilty somehow; she has always loved juicy gossip, but inside that room is Miguel hanging on for dear life, and she feels sort of ashamed that her eagerness to find out what had transpired bordered on salaciousness. And yet. "And then what? Did he attack her again?"

    "Not exactly that." Gabriel proceeds in retelling what transpired, down to the last detail, when he discovered, to his shock, that he had caused Miguel''s accident. He sniffles, although he tries not to cry in front of her.

    "I''m really sorry," she says. "We''ll all get through this. This will be over like a bad dream, and then you''ll be happy and Miguel will finally be happy and Claire¡­Wait, where is she?"

    "She''s over there," he says, nodding in the general direction of the adjacent corridor. "She''s still having her blood extracted." Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose. "I should be there, holding her hand. But then I think I should be here, because Miguel''s in a more serious situation. I don''t know what to do."

    "Poor boy," Mrs. Gomez says, reaching out for his hand. She could pass off as his mom. "You know what, I''ll go over there and find Claire. She needs a friendly face, too. Although that girl of yours has so much spunk in her, I don''t think she''d need a companion in this situation. But yeah, I''ll find her. You stay here. I have been ?ssured Miguel is getting the best possible care in this hospital."

    "Please," he says. "Thank you."

    "Don''t worry, we''ll get through this, Mr. Tan," she says, standing up. "I will make sure of that."

    Mrs. Gomez is thinking in terms of minutes, seconds. She just doesn''t want to alarm him, but even if Miguel is considered stable for now, he direly needs blood transfusion. Gabriel has always been emotionally immature, and he tends to regress into some childlike form whenever Mrs. Gomez is around. And the grand madam, in turn, acts like his surrogate mother, overly protective of him, anticipating his needs, thinking ahead.

    She looks at her watch and takes note of the time. Dale and whoever is volunteering to donate blood should be on their way by now. They have to be tested quickly when they arrive; they must be processed orderly. They must not waste even a second of time.

    Mrs. Gomez follows her nose, instinctively finding Claire in a holding room. She''s in bed, her left arm by her side, attached to a tube flowing into a bag on a low table. The bag is almost half-filled with her blood. The sight of it makes Mrs. Gomez''s hackles rise; she''s never overcome her aversion to blood, which makes her feel faint in the worst of times. But she looks away and avoids gazing at the bag of blood.

    Claire''s eyes are closed; with all this blood coming out of her, she must feel woozy, Mrs. Gomez thinks. Quietly, she enters the room; the sole nurse had just walked outside, reading off a chart, off to the nurse station probably. She takes the seat by the bed and watches Claire, waiting for her to stir, wondering if Claire''s truly asleep or just waiting for the dizziness to wash over.

    The nurse returns and smiles upon seeing her. "Good morning, Ma''am, are you her mother?"

    "Oh, no, I¡ª" Mrs. Gomez begins to say, but realizes why the hell not? "Yes, I''m her mom. How''s she? How''s my darling baby daughter?"

    "How sweet," the nurse grins. "She''s fine, Ma''am, and we''re almost done. We''re only taking about 400 milliliters of blood from her. She only needs to drink a glass of water and rest for a few minutes, then she can go on and enjoy the rest of her day."

    "I don''t think enjoyment is still on the menu for today," Mrs. Gomez says. "This blood is for her crazy suitor, who got into a gruesome accident because he tried to attack her."

    "Oh my God!" The nurse covers her mouth with her chartboard. "Is it true?"

    "Yes, yes," Mrs. Gomez says. "And now the suitor''s brother, who happens to be her fianc¨¦, is in a terrible dilemma, because he was the one who caused the accident in trying to defend her." She shrugs. "Unbelievable what men will do for love."

    "He what? Her fianc¨¦ is..and then the suitor¡­" The nurse''s brow knits in maximum confusion in trying to make sense of the story. But by then Claire stirs from her short nap; she blinks, sees Mrs. Gomez beside the bed.

    "You''re here?"

    "And good morning to you, too," Mrs. Gomez says. "How are you feeling, Claire?"

    She tries to get up, but the room seems to spin. The nurse promptly hands her a glass full of water; she had just finished removing the needle from Claire''s arm, stashing away the bag of blood in a sealed box.

    "Drink it, it will help you regain your bearings," the nurse says. Then to Mrs. Gomez: "Wait, are you saying she''s donating this blood to the man who attacked her and¡ª"

    Mrs. Gomez abruptly stands up, laughing nervously. "Oh, no, I mean, we need more blood, right? We need a few bags more? Can you check my blood type and if I''m qualified, I''d like to donate, too?"

    That causes the nurse''s eyes to bulge out even more. "You''re also donating to the man who attacked your daughter''s¡ª"

    "What''s this donating to a man who attacked what?" Claire squints, sipping her water like it''s some soup. "What are you guys talking about?"

    "No, nothing," Mrs. Gomez grins, red in the face. "Nurse, why don''t we go to your station where you can check my blood type? I have no idea what my blood type is. It has been ages since I last had that test. Doesn''t the blood type change as you get older? No? Then I don''t remember what it is, and we''d need to¡­"

    Mrs. Gomez''s voice trails off as she almost drags the nurse out of there. But Claire is still a bit groggy to make sense of that. She tries to drink down all the water in her glass; they say this will help her regain the volume of the blood that came out of her. Slowly, clarity returns to her mind. She remembers again the events earlier, realizing Gabriel is not around. She tries to stand up, holding the walls for support, but the room still spins, although not as violently as it did earlier. The early morning breeze coming through the half-open door helps a lot, and she soldiers on, determined to get out and find Gabriel and see Miguel. But by the door her knees give way, and she slumps on the door, clutching at the door knob.

    "Miss Claire," Dale says, smiling. "We''re here."

    Claire looks around; indeed, everyone''s here. Everyone from The Residence, that is. And they all seem excited about something. "What is happening?" Claire manages to say, before she again faints, the world blinking back into darkness.

 Chapter 138 - The Waiting Game

    As it turns out, Mrs. Gomez isn''t qualified to be a blood donor for Miguel. So as Lucille, Dale, and twenty other team members of The Residence. Those who have been blood typed wait in the main lobby, chattering excitedly among themselves, as though waiting for some main event. The others who are still being processed are in a room adjacent to the ER.

    Claire, who has regained consciousness and has since fully bounced back, squeezes Gabriel''s hand as they listen to Mrs. Gomez''s prattle. They''re in the small waiting area outside the ICU, waiting for the doctor''s update.

    When the door opens, the three of them stand up, their hearts in their throats. The doctor, whose name is Garcia, looks cool, considering the pressure.

    "I''m here to let you know we''ve started with the transfusion of the one unit of blood that came from you, Miss Claire," Doc Garcia says. "We''re still in the process of finding more. Hopefully, some of your companions would be compatible as donors."

    "How is he?" Gabriel asks. "Is he awake?"

    "Well, he''s in a deep sleep, which is for the best. But as you know, the transfusion is a drip method, so it would take about an hour for the bag to be fully transfused into his body. By then we''d just need more, so that the whole process is seamless. This would also help us avoid complications."

    "Complications like what, Doctor?" Mrs. Gomez''s voice quakes with worry.

    The doctor shrugs. "There is always some sort of complication with every single medical procedure. In this case, although the likelihood is low, Miguel''s immune system could respond and treat the transfused blood as the enemy. If that happens, it could damage his kidneys or some organ."

    "Jesus," Claire mutters. "Can we do something to avoid that?"

    "We''re already doing that. He''s being very carefully monitored, Miss Claire. Every second of the procedure, there are machines that monitor his body''s responses. And of course, add to those are the trained watchful eyes of our nurses and staff." Dr. Garcia smiles. "We''re doing the best we can. He''s in good hands."

    After the doctor leaves, Gabriel couldn''t help but pace the small space impatiently.

    "Take it easy, Mr. Tan," Mrs. Gomez says. "As the doctor said, he''s in the most capable hands."

    "Yes, I know," he says. "But still. Every moment he''s in that situation, I feel helpless. Like I could have done more, but I can''t."

    Mrs. Gomez sighs. She sits down and looks around, wondering where to get some grub here. Maybe the folks from The Residence could do with some food, too. It had been too early when they were asked to go here; most of them probably, like her, had yet to have their breakfast.

    "Mr. Tan," Mrs. Gomez says, standing up. "I should arrange some food for your employees. And maybe you could eat some, too¡ª"

    "No, I''m fine," he says. "But Claire might need to¡ª"

    "I''m fine, too," Claire says. "I don''t feel hungry at all."

    Mrs. Gomez frowns. "That''s odd. You need some nourishment in you, or else you might faint when it''s too late." She touches Claire''s cheek. "I think you''re dehydrated. What say you to at least a bottle of Gatorade?"

    "I can''t drink Gatorade this early, Mrs. Gomez," Claire says. "But if you can find some hot tea, I''d be grateful."

    "Then tea it is," Mrs. Gomez says. She leaves.

    Claire says nothing for a while; she watches Gabriel pace the floor like he''s waiting for someone to give birth or something. There are a lot of feelings she also needs to process. For one thing, isn''t it ironic that her blood is being transfused into Miguel''s body now¡ªtalk about two becoming one. In a way, it''s like Miguel''s d?s?r? has found fruition in an odd sense, because an important part of her is inside his body now. If you can be extremely romantic, maybe you can find something good in that sense. Didn''t she also wish, during the run-up to this conflict, that if she only had two hearts, she''d gladly give one to Miguel, just to make everyone happy? She wonders vaguely what Miguel would feel if he learns, once he wakes up, that the blood that courses through his veins is Claire''s?

    After a while, Gabriel gets tired of pacing; he sits by her side and puts an arm around her, as though shielding her from the cold of the morning. He gazes into her eyes. "I''m sorry. It has to be said that this is my fault. This could have been managed better." He blinks. "I guess I got carried away. When I saw him grab you, I forgot in that split-second who he was. So now we have this."

    She tries to smile. "What do they say about situations like this, Gab? Don''t cry over spilled milk, right? We shouldn''t dwell on the mistake. We just have keep moving forward, find ways to make it better. I think we''ve done our part. And who knows? Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Maybe there''s a deep reason why this had to happen."

    Gabriel makes a pained smile. "I wish there''s something I can do to make this better."

    "There is." Claire looks up. "You can kiss me."

    Gabriel gazes at her. "I''d say I''m very much obliged. But you know the truth."

    They kiss, right then and there, in the waiting area. They must have been kissing for a long time because they didn''t notice the "oohs" and "aahhhs" of people passing by.

    "Ewww!" says a child''s voice.

    That yanks them out of the magic bubble of that kiss. Before them is a girl, a Barbie in her arms.

    "Why are you eating her mouth?" the young girl asks. "Are you a cannibal?"

    Gabriel and Claire laugh, despite the situation. "I''m not eating her," Gabriel says. "I''m trying to save her."

    "Oh, really?" the girl''s eyes go wide. "Is she sick, too?"

    "Very," Claire says. "Say, why are you here alone? Where''s your mommy?"

    The girl points to the general direction of the Medical Intensive Care Unit. "She''s in there." She turns to Gabriel. "Can I ask you a favor, Mister?"

    Gabriel bends a knee. "Sure, anything. Just ask."

    "Can you save my mom, too?"

    Gabriel is unable to say anything. He looks up at Claire, who''s already starting to choke with her tears. She turns away.

    Gabriel turns to the girl. "Don''t worry. I will talk to your doctor. I will very kindly ask him to do everything he can to make your mommy''s sickness go away. The doctor is my good friend, and he will do what I tell him. How about that?"

    The girl smiles. "Thank you." Then she runs away giggling, as though she knows her mom is already safe.

    Gabriel gazes at the child''s figure receding in the distance. He stands up. He''s thinking of telling Mrs. Gomez to take care of the child''s family''s expenses, too. And maybe tell the president of this hospital to make sure the child''s mother gets the best of care, expenses be damned. He feels good already.

    Claire is gazing at him with meaning. "I think I know what you''re thinking," she says. "Thank you."

    "It''s the least we can do," he says. He''s starting to dial the phone, trying to call up Mrs. Gomez. But somehow, the lady isn''t answering.

    At the same moment, Mrs. Gomez is being held up at the main lobby, where the folks from The Residence are waiting.

    "I''m really, really sorry, Ma''am," Dale is saying. "Not a single one from my co-workers can donate blood to Sir Miguel. No one seems compatible."

    Mrs. Gomez couldn''t believe what she''s hearing. "There''s a whole busload of you, and not a single one is compatible? Jesus Henry Christ! We''ve wasted so much time already!"

    Dale is beyond apologetic. "I''m sorry, Ma''am. We did our best. Everyone from The Residence is here, as you can see. We all volunteered."

    Mrs. Gomez pauses. In her mind, she''s already calculating the odds. There''s no time to dwell in this failure; she must proceed to Plan B. The trouble is, she''s only starting to come up with Plan B, pulling it out of thin air. "Alright, Dale," she says. "If you want, you can all have breakfast here, just charge them in my card." She hands him her MasterCard. "I will have to scoot and find more possible volunteers."

    "Thank you, Ma''am," Dale says, holding Mrs. Gomez''s credit card as though it''s such a delicate thing.

    "Go now," she says. "Your team must be famished. I don''t want anyone else go sick, understand? Then go back to The Residence because Claire might need you later."

    "Yes, Ma''am!" Dale chirps snappily. He leaves to gather his people.

    Mrs. Gomez is walking back to Gabriel and Claire, her mind on fire. She thinks she should run over to the TXCI office, round up all the available warm bodies with good, healthy blood coursing within them, and drag them all out here. Come hell or high freaking water.

 Chapter 139 - The Escalation

    "How do you mean not a single one?" Gabriel says incredulously.

    "I meant exactly that," Mrs. Gomez says. "No one from The Residence staff was compatible enough to be a donor."

    "Alright," Gabriel mutters. If this were a simple thing, he would have called up his mom or his relatives¡ªthe Tans are quite a big clan, although his relatives only gave them recognition as they went up the social ladder. But the circumstances surrounding Miguel''s situation can be seen as scandalous, and their reputation could be damaged.

    "And we can''t ask your relatives or friends because of the s?ns?t?v? nature of this issue, correct, Sir?" Mrs. Gomez says, reading his mind.

    "Yes," he says. "I''m afraid so."

    "At one point we''d have to call up your mother, Mr. Tan."

    "I''m very much afraid so," Gabriel says, glancing at Claire. "Although if possible, we should do some damage control. We''ll try the office first. Maybe you can say something along the lines of ''a handsome reward awaits those who becomes a qualified donor''. But please, don''t say it too bluntly like that. I don''t want them to feel like I''m bribing them to help out."

    "I understand," Mrs. Gomez says, the gears of her mind crunching. "I can go there, right away. I will¡ª"

    "I''ll call up Catherine from public relations," Claire bu??s in. "Tell her to plug up any information leak about what happened. Control the media as much as possible. What do you think, Gab?"

    Gabriel gazes at Claire, mild surprise in his face. "That''s brilliant. But word must have leaked out by now. Maybe they''re writing the story, or probably posting it on social media. What if we''re already past the chance of correcting this or denying it ever happened?"

    "Then we spin it in another direction," Claire says. "We''ll call it an ''unthinkable accident'', totally unforeseen. We should seed this version of events proactively."

    Mrs. Gomez looks at her. "That actually makes sense. So just to be clear, we have two urgent problems here: Miguel''s health and welfare and the blood we need right now, plus the story that revolves around this, knowing that the Tans are public personalities."

    "Yes, exactly," Claire says. "We need to handle this more strategically. I''m sorry to be so calculative, but we''re running out of time."

    "That''s quite a revelation, Claire," Gabriel says. The truth is, he''s been waiting for the "real Claire" to come out for a long time; the Claire who had made men fall on their knees on the debate stage back in college, if her background was any useful reference. "Thank you so much."

    She smiles. She wants to say, I''d be more vigilant and aggressive, moving forward. But she doesn''t want to say that in front of Mrs. Gomez; for some reason, she still feels a bit awkward in front of her.

    "You''re quite right about the running out of time bit," Mrs. Gomez says, standing up. I''d better be going, then. Time is critical, so I''d need to be doing this fast. You take care of yourselves here, Mr. Tan, Claire. I''ll be back."

    On her mind, Mrs. Gomez thinks it will only take her a few minutes to get to the office. But in the real world, with her not bringing a car and not having asked the services of one of Mr. Tan''s chauffeurs, she discovers to her dismay that flagging a cab in this part of town at this hour could be challenging. She''s been standing by the side of the road in front of the hospital for what seems like a long time, and yet, no sight of a cab.

    Annoyed and under mounting pressure, she rifles through her bag for her phone. She begins to tap on the number of her husband¡ªhe should be awake by now, for Pete''s sakes¡ªto bring over their car, when a Benz sedan stops right in front of her. Dean comes out and quickly opens the door for her. "Hop in, Ma''am!"

    "My goodness, you''re a sight for sore eyes. Thank God you''re here," she exclaims.

    "Miss Claire called me up," Dean says. "I had been waiting by the curb for a few hours, just for this kind of emergency."

    "Yes, thank you," Mrs. Gomez says. She takes mental note of this: how Claire seems to be doing what she can to help everybody. "I ?ssume you already know the destination."

    "Yes, Ma''am," Dean says. "And I also know we need to be there as fast as we could." Then he floors it; the Benz''s powerful engine roars as they begin zipping on the main avenue, on the way to the TXCI building. Dean drives so fast that Mrs. Gomez is grabbing at anything to brace up herself.

    "I also ?ssume you know we''re not supposed to die in a car crash, Dean!" Mrs. Gomez''s voice is hoarse from fear.

    "Don''t worry, Ma''am," Dean says coolly, clearly enjoying this. He rarely gets an order to "freaking get there as fast as you can," so this is a rare p???sur?, to be able to test the car''s limits.

    Meanwhile, Gabriel is speaking with Miguel''s medical team, which gives Claire the chance to do her own work. She''s calling up Gabriel''s head of public relations department, Catherine Buenavista, whom she met only a few days ago. She tries Catherine''s office phone, but it only rings and rings. She realizes she doesn''t have Catherine''s personal number. She thinks of asking Gabriel, but that would make her appear incompetent or flaky. She tries calling up the office receptionist, then on the third ring, she realizes Mrs. Gomez is ALSO the office receptionist, and she''s on the road, on the way there. Why Gabriel hasn''t promoted her to a more managerial position is beyond her understanding; maybe there''s something to it than meets the eye. She makes mental note of that fact, promising herself to return to the matter when things have cooled down.

    She stands up and waits; maybe she should give Catherine Buenavista a few more minutes. Perhaps she''s stuck in traffic. But what if, of all the days of the week, she''s on leave today? Claire closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to stamp out an oncoming headache. When she next opens her eyes, she almost jumps in surprise: a man is standing in front of her, smiling. What in hell?

    "Hello, Claire Monteverde, we meet again. And perhaps not in the most affable circumstances."

    Claire''s brow knits in confusion. "Do I know you?"

    The man''s lopsided grin, those beady little eyes, the unbearable moustache. There''s something about this face that''s so strikingly familiar.

    "What?" the man says. "Just a few weeks into your high-fantasy whirlwind romance, and already you forget about me?"

    "I really don''t¡­" then in the same instance recognition comes, fear also chokes her. "You''re that guy from¡ª"

    "That famous magazine, yes," the man says, laughing, looking around. He looks as if he hasn''t yet slept, like somebody dragged him out of bed that early morning and planted him in this spot. He turns to her, still with that grin. "How can you forget the events of that pool party? Remember you had the s?xiest catfight in the pool with none other than Gabriel tan''s ex, Michelle?" He extends a hand. "Gary Smulder, Muckraker magazine. At your service."

 Chapter 140 - The Parasite

    "What are you doing here?" Claire asks in a tone that sounds more like, "Will you please drop dead?"

    Gary Smulders shrugs. "Duty calls. A little bird told me something''s afoot in this here medical establishment." He squints as he looks at her sideways. "Say, what are you doing here?"

    Claire glances at the door of the ICU, hoping Gabriel doesn''t come out; not yet, please. "Annual physical exam. But what is it to you?"

    "Oh, is your fianc¨¦ making you work in his company now, with all the regular requirements?" His eyebrows arch in mock disbelief. "I would have thought he would simply flick a finger and every career obstacle in your way vanishes. Just like that."

    Claire makes a deep breath. She looks around; Gary Smulders seems alone. Maybe he''s just fishing for information. He probably doesn''t know anything. Except he asks a nurse here, and everything will spill out. It''s going to be a public relations nightmare, and completely opposite of what she''s just trying to do a while back.

    "Are you still trying to get an interview with Gabriel?"

    "Uh, isn''t it obvious?"

    "Then why are you here? Try calling him up at his office."

    Gary shrugs. "Well, that''s the question I''m also asking myself. But a little bird told me¡ª"

    "Who''s that little bird?"

    "Someone reliable."

    "Then that little bird, whoever he or she is, is lying. They just wasted your time by being here. It''s still early in the morning. You can still get back to sleep."

    Gary Smulders looks at her sideways, as though smelling something fishy. "Are you trying to make me go away?"

    Claire fake-laughs, but he''s starting to get on her nerves. "You can hang around here if you want. I don''t care. I''m just trying to get some medical check-ups."

    "Then why are you so early?"

    Claire bites her lips and stifles her growing spite. "Because this is how I am. I always want to be early, accomplish things early. There''s a lot of stuff to do. But then, why do I have to explain all these things to you?"

    Gary grins. "Well, maybe because there''s something else. Something that I might be interested to know."

    Claire scoffs, trying to convince him that she doesn''t care about his presence. But she couldn''t leave him here and risk having him bump into Gabriel later. She looks at him. She needs to think fast. If he doesn''t leave right now, and still hangs around the hospital, he might see Miguel in the ICU, or get gossip from one of the nurses. That''s the critical part.

    "Tell you what," Claire flashes her sweetest smile. "I know you''re doing this to help your career. I understand, truly. But you know how Gabriel is, his temper and what-have-you. I''m telling you, you won''t get anything useful here. You''re just wasting your time. But because I still feel bad at how you were treated at the pool party, let me try to make it up to you."

    Gary''s eyes go big. "I''m breathless with anticipation. How would you ''make it up'' to me?"

    Claire has to gulp down the rising irritation in her throat. She smiles. "I could arrange a friendly interview with Gabriel. He would answer your questions, and I promise he won''t beat you up or throw you to his bodyguards."

    Gary stares at her dumbfounded, as though he''d just heard the most unbelievable thing in his life. "Are you not shitting me?"

    "I shit you not," she says, smiling like she really means it.

    "But why would you do that? What do you expect in return?"

    "Well, nothing, apart from your promise that it would be a fair, good interview. I don''t want mud thrown at him, do you understand?"

    "Of course, no mud! Why do you think our magazine is called ''muckraker''." Gary smiles dumbly.

    Oh, Jesus, yes, she remembers it. "Muckraker", as the name suggests, makes it its business to "rake the muck" about the famous and the powerful. Maybe this is a bad idea, after all. And yet, Claire persists; she doesn''t have any other ace up her sleeve. "What if he reveals something ''exclusive'' to you? That would still sell copies of your magazine, right?"

    ???Exclusive? Like what?"

    She shrugs. "Let''s cross the bridge when we get there. But for now, you have my ?ssurance and promise. Now, if you would just let me go about my business, I would really appreciate it."

    Wait," Gary runs after her. "Shouldn''t we sign a document or something. I don''t have anything to hold about your promise. How do I know you''d do as you say?"

    "You don''t," she says, her face deadpan. "What you''ll have is what I say you''ll have." She winks, then walks away.

    "But¡­" Gary scratches his head. He watches her walk away, her figure growing smaller in the distance. He looks around. Maybe his "little birdie" of a tipster has been mistaken; there seems nothing "juicy" here in this stupid hospital. His time has been wasted for nothing.

    He starts walking around aimlessly, watching the people, reading bulletin boards. At one point his stomach grumbles; he hadn''t eaten anything. Last night, all he had was some lousy TV dinner that tasted like melted cardboard with ketchup. He figures all this late night work, this running after personalities who hated the sight of him, and the highly processed grub he consumes¡ªall these would bite him in the ?ss one day in the future, maybe in the form of some terminal cancer.

    His feet take him to the main lobby, intending to ask the girl sitting at the Information desk about the directions to the cafeteria. But the lobby''s surprisingly crawling with people, and they''re wearing different uniforms, like they''re from some hotel or something. Gary approaches the Information desk, just as a man from the group says something about "blood donation." But one name from the seemingly meaningless chatter suddenly piques his interest: the mention of "Miguel Tan."

    "Hey," he elbows a girl who obviously is among the crowd. "Is this some kind of medical convention?"

    The girl laughs. "Oh, no, this is about our boss''s brother. We''re here to donate blood. But unfortunately, nobody''s qualified."

    "Blood?" Gary Smulders, ace journalist for Muckraker magazine, is instantly drawn. "How do you mean blood? And did you mention Miguel Tan?"

    The girl gazes at him, wondering about the curiosity. "Yes, did you know him? He had an accident. He''s supposed to undergo a blood transfusion, and¡ª"

    "Wait, wait," Gary says, almost breathlessly. "Can we talk someplace else? Just two minutes."

    The girl hesitates. She looks behind her, at her companions who are starting to walk out the lobby''s main doors.

    "I''ll make your two minutes worthy of the trouble," Gary says, searching his pockets for his wallet. He finds a few hundred bucks, which he yanks out and stuffs in the palm of her hand.

    The girl looks at the money, smiles, and immediately slips it in her pocket. Then she looks up. "What do you need to know?"

    "Just a couple of questions," Gary says, finally smiling. "I''d just like to know the how, when, where, and why of that accident."

 Chapter 141 - The Devils Bargain

    As she makes a turn into a small corridor, Claire hides behind a column, checking if the reporter has truly left the building. To her relief, there''s no sight of him; he must have finally left.

    She takes out her phone and redials Catherine Buenavista''s number. "Please answer, goddammit," she mutters, as she watches the phone screen vibrate with Catherine''s office number. And yet, it only rings and rings. Where are people when you need them the most, Claire wonders, feeling dejected. She takes a peek again, and seeing that the reporter seems nowhere in sight, she walks back to where she''d come from, taking a roundabout way, toward the area of the ICU. She needs to speak with Gabriel. Apart from ensuring Miguel''s welfare, they need to have a solid plan about how they''d go about this in the coming days.

    Meanwhile, Mrs. Gomez has just arrived in the TXCI offices. She tosses her bag on the empty reception desk, where she usually sits. She gazes at the clock; it''s half an hour past eight. It''s business as usual, she discovers as she enters the main office floor. People are in their respective cubicles, some are by the water cooler in the other end of the hallway. There''s the usual traffic of interns going to and from their various concerns¡ªfetching coffee, having documents photocopied, attending meetings. Mrs. Gomez walks on the hallway quietly, surveying the people. A young intern, some boy who looks like he''s b?r?ly out of his teens, passes by bearing metal trays, presumably used for coffee and snacks for some of the executives.

    "Wait," Mrs. Gomez says to the intern. She takes the metal trays from his hand. She begins clanging the metal trays together quite loudly, which instantly produces the d?s?r?d effect¡ªthe attention of the entire floor turns to her.

    "Hello, folks! Listen," she says, addressing the crowd. "At this moment, right as you try to spend a normal day working the phone, inputting figures in your excel sheets, sending heartbreaking electronic missives to whoever it is you''re trying to con for the sake of the company, you must know that Miguel Tan, your boss''s brother, is in the hospital. He''s in a critical condition. Due to an unfortunate and utterly regrettable accident, he''s seriously injured. And he needs to undergo an urgent blood transfusion as soon as possible. So if any¡ª"

    "Doesn''t the hospital have stored blood?" A lady sitting in a nearby cubicle says. "What about the city''s blood banks?"

    "Listen, genius," Mrs. Gomez snaps. "I won''t be standing here wasting my goddamn time if we haven''t explored all possible avenues first. Me standing here means we''re desperate. Forget about me, my dear colleagues. This is for Gabriel Tan. And if somehow working here has changed your life for the better, if you feel even just the tiniest amount of appreciation, gratitude even, maybe you''d be interested to give back just a tiny bit to the captain of industry you call your boss." Mrs. Gomez pauses for effect, surveying the faces before her. At the other end of the hallway, Michelle Alcantara peeps out of her own office, curiosity in her face. "What I''m asking you is Miguel Tan needs donations¡ªnot the money kind, but blood. Anyone who can go to the hospital today¡ªno, right at this very moment, consider today a paid leave. You can go to the hospital, have yourself tested for compatibility, and afterwards you can take the rest of the day off."

    "We can do whatever we want afterwards?" Again, the same girl in the nearby cubicle.

    "Did I stutter? Yes, of course, as I''ve said, today''s a nice day to, how do we say this in this day and age, ''shoot your shit''?" Mrs. Gomez turns to the girl. "But ONLY if you''d go to the hospital right now and attempt to donate blood¡ª"

    Mrs. Gomez hasn''t even finished speaking, but the whole floor, every single one of them, empties out into the elevator lobby, apparently to proceed to the hospital. There is excited chatter, as though these are kids unleashed upon the first day of summer vacation. She hasn''t even told them what blood type is needed¡ªshe doesn''t know, either, anyway; she forgot to ask Gabriel earlier in all the panic and confusion.

    "Oh, my God," Michelle exclaims, appearing right beside her. "Is it true?"

    Mrs. Gomez restrains herself. "If you''re asking about Miguel Tan, yes, it is true, quite unfortunately."

    "But you don''t¡­I mean, what''s his blood type?"

    Mrs. Gomez reddens in the face, realizing how stupid she is, and being so right before Michelle Alcantara. "Sorry, but I forgot to ask."

    "Mrs. Gomez, you should have asked. For efficiency. Those people are coming in huge droves to the hospital. They''d think there''s a pandemic going on." Michelle sighs. "But no matter. I also don''t know what my blood type is. Never had a chance to know. Are you going back?"

    "Going back to where?" Mrs. Gomez says, still distracted.

    Michelle raises her arms in exasperation. "Going back to the hospital, for Pete''s sakes! Come on, let''s go."

    "You''re coming, too?" Mrs. Gomez smells trouble.

    "Of course! What do you think of me? We''d go there, and maybe I could be a qualified blood donor. Let''s go. Maybe Miguel''s waiting for us. Who knows? Maybe my blood is the thing that saves him."

    Mrs. Gomez looks at her, unsure if this is a good idea. She needs donors, but she never consider Michelle Alcantara in the grand scheme of things. "But Gabriel would be there, and¡­"

    "So what?" Michelle says. "I''m going there not for him, anyway. Wait for me here, I''ll just get my bag. Then you can ride shotgun with me."

    Mrs. Gomez says nothing; she just watches Michelle walk away in a hurry, caught in the urgency of the moment. She wants to call up Gabriel, but then maybe it''s not too bad to bring her over. But Claire is there, and something about this whole equation feels wrong; you don''t bring a lighted match to a gunpowder keg and expect for everything to be nice, calm, and freaking breezy.

    Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Gary Smulders is excitedly writing on his notepad every single juicy thing that comes out of the mouth of the girl, a staff member of The Residence, about what transpired in the wee hours of that morning, right at The Residence''s lounge.

    "You mean, Miguel is in love with Gabriel''s fianc¨¦e? And they fought over her because Miguel''s that desperate?"

    The girl nods, her eyes distracted; the truth is, every piece of information she spills out, she feels a pang of regret, with all that creeping sense of doing something wrong. After all, there''s something about the man''s demeanor that strikes her to be sleazy, like he''s out to cause damage or do some harm. This isn''t a proper journalist, she quietly realizes; this is some tabloid schmuck. But she has accepted the money, and she could use it for her personal needs.

    "Juicy, juice," Gary mutters, writing that piece of information down. "And it all went down just this morning. So you''re here because he needs blood donation?"

    The girl nods. "Is that enough? I need to go back to work."

    "Uhh, sure, yes. That''s the best two minutes I''ve ever had." Gary snickers like a hyena. "Certainly this two-minute quickie is right up there on the shelf of my personal moments of triumph. Thank you, dear."

    The girl almost runs after her companions, who are all milling about outside, boarding a shuttle bus.

    Gary Smulders reads his notes, nodding. "This is explosive," he mutters. "This is going to sell a million freaking copies of Muckraker magazine. A lot better than whatever interview that Claire was promising."

    And yet, Gary doesn''t yet leave the hospital premises. He loiters around; he walks back to the spot where he had encountered Claire, hoping she would again show up. He paces the corridor fronting the ICU section, trying to peek through the glass windows. Yet, Claire seems to have disappeared. He takes out the small notepad and rereads it; he couldn''t help but smile. This is going to be explosive. This is a career-making scoop. How long has he been working for Muckraker? Five, eight years? And nothing outstanding, no achievement at all. But here in his hands is something solid; maybe they''d make him a bureau editor or something.

    As Gary is about to leave, he hears a familiar voice coming out of the ICU. He turns around and Lo! It''s Claire and Gabriel in what seems to be a very serious conversation. Two birds with one stone! The gods favor Gary Smulders after all! He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, make himself a bit more presentable somehow. He clears his throat. He approaches the couple, with the most winsome smile plastered across his face.

    "Hi, Mr. Gabriel, Miss Claire," Gary says, in a voice too high-pitched for comfort. "Fancy meeting you here.

    Claire blanches upon seeing him. She turns to Gabriel, who seems confused. "What? And who are you?" Gabriel says.

    "I heard about your emergency. So I''m here to offer help. Donate my blood. Maybe I''m qualified?" Gary Smulder smiles, yet there''s no mirth, no joy in it; the smile is all teeth, reeking with pure malice.

 Chapter 142 - The Sinking Ship

    His brow knitted in confusion, Gabriel turns to Claire, as if looking for clarification.

    Claire is a deer in headlights; this reporter is not even thinking. He''s so darned stupid. Jesus, hasn''t he even learned anything from that pool party incident? To walk up to Gabriel just like that, right when he''s in the foulest of moods. "Uhh, he''s the¡­Uhh, the reporter, remember?"

    Gabriel looks at her as though a ???kroach has just crawled out of her mouth. "What reporter?"

    Claire sighs. How could Gabriel remember? Every single day tons of things happened to him, while to her, the world revolved around Gabriel and his little shenanigans.

    "He''s just a reporter from some magazine," Claire says dismissively. "And he''s¡ª"

    "And as I''ve said Mr. Tan, I''m here to offer my help. Heard about your brother. So maybe I''m qualified."

    Gabriel gazes at him, seemingly sizing him up. The truth is, this guy looks familiar, he just can''t place where or when he did see him. IN any case, he''s not getting good vibes from this; he''s feeling what he felt about Jake Magno.

    "I work for a prestigious, well-known weekly publication, Mr. Tan. The Muck¡ª"

    In a flash, Gabriel recognizes him. "You''re that sleaze who gatecrashed a party I had! Who told you to come here?"

    "Well, uhh¡­" he glances at Claire, as if begging for a lifeline. "Well, a little birdie told me¡­"

    But Gary doesn''t finish what he''s saying, as Gabriel grabs him by the collar. "I don''t need you and your kind here. Crawl back to the hole you''d come from!"

    Gary stumbles and falls on his back. Claire throws her arms around Gabriel to stop him; she almost screams, but her instinct tells her to keep it quiet, so she whispers in Gabriel''s ear to take it easy, focus on what matters. Thankfully, Gabriel comes to his senses. He nods, raising his arms.

    Gary Smulders stands up, dusting off his jacket. Yet, he has that look of defiance on his face. "I could sue you, Gabriel. You could have added me to your growing list of ?ssault victims."

    That yanks Gabriel from his untenable place of cool. "Why you¡ª"

    Gary jumps back, but he knows he''s safe, as Claire holds Gabriel back. "Don''t mind him," Claire says, her voice rising in pitch. "Let''s not even¡­" Then to Gary: "Leave, please."

    Gary grins. "Sure, if you don''t want me to donate my blood to the brother you almost killed, I''m fine with that." He brandishes his notepad, like a trophy. "I have my story. I don''t need your approval. And Miss Claire, kiss goodbye to our agreement."

    "What agreement?" Gabriel snaps at her.

    "It''s¡­" Claire shakes her head. "I''ll explain later. It''s not important to¡­"

    "I know all the details of why your brother lies unconscious in that room," Gary says, still at it.

    Claire rolls her eyes at him. "Will you leave? Please?"

    "Sure," Gary says, finally. "Sure. See you around, you lovely couple!"

    It takes Gabriel all his remaining strength to not go after the man and beat the sh1te out of him. Maybe Claire''s arms around him helped, too. But surely, there''s something about what the reporter said that left him feeling a bit strange.

    Claire sighs as she watches Gary leave. Their ship is full of holes. There have been so many witnesses, and none of them has been oriented or ordered to keep the Tan family''s privacy. And now Claire realizes that keeping Miguel''s accident a secret is not the way to go. Full disclosure maybe the smarter move, especially now that someone like Gary Smulder has entered the equation.

    Gabriel turns to her. "My head and heart are full of things. But I''m glad you''re here beside me."

    "Me, too," she says. She holds his hand. "Thank God Miguel''s condition is getting better."

    "Yeah," he says. "We still need more blood, but if we can''t find more, the doctor says there are ways to keep him stable while we wait for a donor. And it''s all that I needed to hear, the fact that we can buy some time."

    "Maybe we can check out blood banks in other cities."

    "Yes," he says. "Already called up my point person for that. I''m sure later today we can finally get it."

    "So," she says, hesitating. "Now that Miguel''s condition is more or less good, maybe we can try to think about the war on perception that''s at stake here."

    "How do you mean?"

    "Well, if the public learns about the real reason behind Miguel''s accident, that you had to do it because he was trying to ?ssault me, it might have a negative impact on your reputation. It might affect your businesses. Your companies are publicly traded, Gabriel. The value of your stocks might get shot down."

    "I don''t think that''s¡­" But then he falls silent. Claire has a point. Why has he been blind to this? He has never figured in a public spectacle before, so the possibility of this accident hitting the valuation of his companies seems unreal, even to him. "You mean that reporter is¡­"

    "Is only one of our concerns. I''ve been trying to reach your public relations director, Catherine Buenavista. Couldn''t get hold of her. We need to craft a game plan. Some public relations stunt or other. Or at least, we should be aware of all possibilities, so that nothing would surprise us."

    Gabriel looks at her for a long moment, weighing his own thoughts. "We can keep it simple, Claire," he says finally. "You know Occam''s Razor? It says that usually, the simplest explanation is the true one. We can just¡ª"

    But Gabriel never finishes what he says, as Mrs. Gomez''s voice blares from behind them. "Mr. Tan! Good news!"

    Mrs. Gomez looks already haggard at this hour, and for some reason, Gabriel feels pity for her. He makes mental note of what he''d offer her as compensation later. "I''m sure if it''s done by you, it''s nothing but good."

    "Yeah!" Mrs. Gomez chirps, albeit too cheerfully for comfort. "The good news is, almost a hundred people are on their way here to have their blood tested for compatibility."

    Claire says, "Really? Oh, my God! Maybe we can find a good match now. We don''t have to search in other blood banks. Right, Gab?"

    "A hundred people, Mrs. Gomez? It''s not the most efficient way to find a blood donor. You could have just asked their blood type and¡­"

    "Well, nobody knew what their blood type is," Mrs. Gomez says. "Who knows, in this day and age?" Then she looks behind her with that look of uncertainty in her face. "But there''s just one bit of a not-so-good news, Mr. Tan."

    "What do you mean?"

    Mrs. Gomez opens her mouth to speak, but she''s cut off by a shrill voice Doppler-shifting toward them. And Gabriel doesn''t have to look up to know who it is.

    "Oh, my God, Gab, why didn''t you call me up? Where''s Miguel? Where''s the doctor? Nurses? Here''s my arm, take all the blood you can get," says Michelle Alcantara, wearing her signature animal print dress that makes people look at her cleavage. Noticing that Gabriel and Claire are not speaking; they''re just gazing at her like they''ve seen a snake, she says, "And a pleasant morning to you, too."

    Mrs. Gomez feels like she just wants the earth to swallow her up.

 Chapter 143 - The Mucky Muck

    The offices of the Muckraker magazine feel true to the "vision and mission" of such a highly esteemed publication. It''s located in the basement of an old art deco building, on the boundaries of the city''s own china town, with nothing but a little signage by the entrance door announcing its existence. Inside is a small "editorial room," a common area where four or five desks are arranged around a single inkjet printer, where an editorial staff of a grand total of seven, not including Gary Smulder, bang on their antiquated yellowed desktop computers the week''s journalistic masterpieces.

    It''s into this wonderful world of ace-level reporting that Gary Smulder enters, his face brimming with expectation. At the desk nearest the inkjet printer sits a corpulent gray-haired man, quickly typing on the computer keyboard what can only be presumed as the magazine''s next cover story.

    "Hey, Patrick, guess what I have in my hand?"

    Patrick does not even stop typing; he continues pounding the keyboard, his face limned with the phosphor glow of the monitor. "I can guess, but I''m sure reality is much stranger than guesses."

    Gary laughs; he plunks himself in the squeaky office chair nearby and makes himself comfortable. He surveys the cramped office. Ted, the senior features editor, is slathering a slice of bread with chunky peanut bu??er, right on his workstation. Liza, who does graphics design and layout, paints her nails a murderous red. Gary makes mental note to hit on Liza later; maybe, finally, she''d agree to giving him a blowjob, or maybe more. Liza''s resting bitch face looks exceptionally bitchy today, and Gary presumes a fight with the old boyfriend, which might mean Liza is more receptive to the idea of cheating on his boyfriend. Tonight might be the night, after all.

    But Gary''s lurid train of thoughts is cut off by Patrick''s hoarse voice. "So what is it in your hand, then? Somebody''s severed d??k you found in a garbage can in the back alley behind Pizza Hut?"

    Gary, again, laughs; to be on Patrick''s good side, you always must show appreciation for his comedic talent, although the talent that Patrick has so far excelled in is finding absolute malice on everything and everyone.

    "Much, much better than a severed d??k, Pat!" Gary brandishes the notepad, as though it was some kind of trophy. "I have here the week''s explosive cover story!"

    Patrick looks at him, his eyes bearing the old "I''ve heard that line before and I''m sick of it" jadedness. A beat, then he actually says, "I''ve heard that line before. So if you''re saying this is cover story material, you better be sure, or this will be the last time you''re ever making be a bit excited."

    "Does the name Miguel Tan ring a bell?" Gary says, his eyebrows arching.

    Pat''s bushy brow furrows. "Miguel Tan? Hmmm. We surely know a lot of Tans, usually ?ssociated with truckloads filled with cash. So which Tan would this be?"

    "Miguel Tan, Pat. Come on. Gabriel Tan''s brother. THE Gabriel Tan, the country''s most eligible bachelor and at the head of a global conglomerate with interests in shipping, property development, electronics, retail, and I don''t know what else."

    Patrick stares at him. "If this is about Gabriel Tan, you better have a compelling story."

    Gary grins. "What can be juicier than a deadly love triangle? Involving the brothers and Gabriel''s new fianc¨¦e?"

    "What?" Patrick finally stops typing. He stares at this upstart who so desperately tries to sell him gold. He''s no idiot; he easily connects the dots as soon as he hears the names of the brothers tied up with a woman. Men throughout history has always fought over booty, be it the glimmering kind or the type that involves an attractive member of the opposite s?x. "The brothers fought over a woman, and one of them almost dies. How did you come by the information?"

    Gary shrugs, like he''s been discovered to be an absolute genius hiding under a rock all this time. "I just happen to have this natural talent for sniffing out blood."

    Patrick ignores it. He''s used to characters like Gary. He''s the most jaded person in this room, and that''s saying a lot. "I can almost read the title of the magazine''s next cover story," Patrick says after a while.

    And Gary, in an effort to impress his editor, offers, "How about ''Gabriel Tan fights Miguel Tan over Gabriel''s fianc¨¦e''?"

    "Are you serious about that headline, Gary? Really?"

    Taken aback, Gary tries again. "Alright, how about "Gabriel and Miguel Tan Almost Kill Each Other over a Girl''?"

    Patrick winces. He squirms in his seat, turning to his reporter. "Listen to me, Gary. And this is a nugget of journalistic wisdom I rarely hand down to anyone. But because you''ve done something worthy of my time and attention today, I''m giving this lesson to you, free." Patrick pauses. "When you craft a story, a headline, and you want people to instantly relate to it, you have to look past the names. You have to pay attention to what the people in the streets consider important."

    "Hmmm," Gary mutters. "Okay. How about, ''Gabriel Tan almost Kills his brother for Love''?"

    Patrick scowls. "People don''t know Gabriel Tan on a first-name basis. Our headline, our story should be cleverly crafted with things that people on the streets already know by heart."

    Patrick falls silent, looking at nothing, as though reading the future in the thin air. "I''m thinking of using the headline, ''Richest Man in the Country Almost Kills Brother over Pretty Girl''. That''s the perfect headline, see? People on the street passing by a news stand, they read ''richest man in the country'' and they wonder, ''who the heck is the richest man in this goddarned country?'' That''s the first bait. The second bait is ''pretty girl''¡ªthey''d ask themselves, what kind of girl, what level of prettiness, can compel a person who''s so rich to almost kill his brother? Jesus, at this point, and this all happens within a split second, our people on the street could not contain their curiosity. They stop, and scan the blurb, they read the first paragraph. That''s when they read it''s about Gabriel Tan. But¡ªand this is a big ''but''¡ªwe won''t mention Gabriel Tan in the first paragraph. Not yet. What we will mention are the names of some of his most recognizable businesses, which are frequented and perhaps loved by the people. Isn''t Gabriel the owner of a popular brand of potato chips? He also owns a string of family-oriented restaurants, right? He also owns a number of iconic buildings downtown, right? That''s what we will mention first. And that will shock the people into buying copies of our magazine."

    "Jesus," is all Gary manages to say. "And I haven''t even written an actual single word of that story, yet."

    "Then set out to write it. Begin now." Patrick stands up. "Use my machine, for good luck."

    "Really? It''s an honor to¡ª"

    "Shut up, Gary, and start typing. And be sure to follow what I just said. I want a thousand words of copy by nightfall." He turns to Ted, who couldn''t help but overhear the entire conversation consideration how small the editorial office is. "And Ted, when you''re finished with that peanut bu??er sandwich that''s giving the entire space some weird funk you only smell in sweatshops, please find royalty-free images of Gabriel Tan and Miguel Tan and check out the social media accounts of the girl. If you have photos of her in a bikini, or sunbathing topless in the sand, or anything that should excite the imagination, harvest them pictures. I envision ten whole pages of this story."

    Gary listens to Patrick giving these orders with the confidence of an army general, and he feels a certain kind of pride. He has spent the past five or so years writing, or trying to write, for this magazine, and these rare moments when Patrick''s wisdom shines the most that make the reporter''s stint here at Muckraker all worth it. That, or the fact that no other publication would accept his journalistic talents. In any case, Gary tries to focus on the task at hand. He makes a few mouse-clicks to open a new document on the word processor. But when faced with the blank page, Gary loses steam; he starts daydreaming about when the magazine hits the newsstands a few days from now. It''s going to be amazing. Patrick might give him the next plum job at Muckraker, which is desk editor, with a team of junior reporters under his wing. That would be something. That would be¡ª

    "What are you snickering about, Gary?" Patrick says, who seems to have been watching him from the adjacent desk. "Stop grinning like a fool and stop romancing that keyboard. I''m waiting for your first of many drafts."

    Gary gulps down his spit. "First of many drafts." Jesus henry Christ, Patrick would be totally anal about the quality of this write-up. And if how the titles he earlier suggested were rejected were any indication, today might actually be one hellaciously long day.

    But then again, this is him biting the bullet, just to climb the stairs to success, and so on and so forth. And so, armed with nothing but all the cliches in his heart, Gary Smulder, esquire, of the prestigious Muckraker magazine, begins pounding on the keyboard the first words of the cover story that will, finally, catapult him to journalistic stardom.

 Chapter 144 - The Deepening Mess

    It seems Michelle Alcantara has swallowed her tongue. She sees Gabriel and Claire, holding hands like they''re together in joy and sorrow and all sh1t like that, and the last words she says is a thinly veiled, sarcastic, "And a pleasant morning to you, too."

    "What are you doing here?" Gabriel''s voice is clipped with rising anger.

    Mrs. Gomez''s ping-pongs from Gabriel''s face, then to Michelle''s , then to Claire. Repeat as necessary. "Uhhh, sorry, Mr. Tan, everyone in the office has volunteered. The rest are on their way here, on board our shuttle buses. And by everyone, I mean, including Mich¡ª"

    "Why are you apologizing on my behalf?" Michelle snaps. Then she turns to Gabriel. "I''m here not for you or anyone else, but for Miguel. I didn''t even ask why he''s in this medical situation, or who did what to him. I''m here because I want to help, like an old friend. So stop being melodramatic, Gab."

    Gabriel grits his teeth, but says nothing. He stands there for a long moment, trying to process his ugly feelings. He''s not sure, but there''s something about Michelle''s face that pushes all his bu??ons, no matter how much he stifles it. He wishes for a time when he would no longer hate her; when he would no longer be affected by the sound of her voice, the sight of her face. Her presence here brings to mind that recent mess with Relentless, and how Michelle had maneuvered her way into becoming his unwanted business partner in a recent merger. If it were up to him, he would¡ª

    "Thank you, Michelle," Claire says, smiling her best. She''s a vision of elegance, despite the fact that they''ve been here since the small hours of the morning. "Your help is much appreciated. Mrs. Gomez will ?ssist in having you tested for compatibility."

    "Of course, Miguel and I are compatible," Michelle scoffs. "And I''ll do everything for an old friend." She throws Gabriel a sticky gaze. "I''ll do even more, if only someone asks me nicely."

    Gabriel must have bitten his lip hard just to stop himself from saying something that he''d regret, especially in this situation. When he says nothing, Michelle nods to Mrs. Gomez, who ushers her toward the general direction of the hospital''s lab.

    "Michelle," Gabriel mutters, sighing. "She''s really insufferable."

    "Gab, I''m not sure if it''s my place to say this," Claire says softly. She hesitates. "But are you sure you''re no longer in love with Michelle?"

    "What? Of course, I''m not! I have moved on, see. I''m no longer¡ª"

    "Because if so, then whatever she does should no longer affect you so much."

    Gabriel stops. He looks at her. "What do you mean?"

    "It''s simple. If she''s no longer in your heart, you should feel nothing about whatever she does. Do you know how that old popular song goes? ''I remember the girl, but I can''t remember the feelings anymore.'' Something like that."

    "Well," Gabriel says. He looks around. The hospital entrance is filling up with newly arrived people, and from the looks of them, they must be his own employees, come to help out with the blood donation. "You''re right. Maybe I still have some unresolved feelings, ugly feelings. But I''m sure it''s not exactly love. Maybe I''m still hurting from the betrayal. Maybe it''s my ego. Maybe I still haven''t done to her what the blackest part of my soul has d?s?r?d to do."

    "And that is?"

    "To grab her neck with my b?r? hands and strangle her." He pauses. Then Gabriel laughs. "Just a joke, Claire."

    "All jokes are half-meant," she says, with a wry smile.

    "I won''t kid, then. Really, I wanted to hurt her for the longest time. I admit I even ''hired'' you remember, for revenge? I was really, really angry. And although I have changed my mind, and much has happened ever since the first day you appeared at my office, sometimes I still find myself annoyed at everything about her. But you''re right. Maybe I should rethink my emotional responses toward her, and rein it in. It''s not proper, I know. And legally, we''re business partners in this one business unit, so I really should hold it together."

    Claire smiles. "Thank you, Gab. Let''s take baby steps. I''m here for you, remember? I''ll do anything so that you can forget her."

    "Really?" Gabriel''s eyes go round. "As in ''anything''?"

    "If you''re thinking about something titillating, come on, Gab. Let''s focus on Miguel first."

    Gabriel laughs. "Sorry. Just got carried away."

    By then, some of the TXCI employees have wandered in their proximity. Some have immediately recognized the couple, but are too timid to directly ask them. Claire notices one of them as Mary, Claudia''s ?ssistant, and she instantly smiles. "Oh, Mary, you''ve come, too!"

    Mary stops, shocked, that the big boss''s fianc¨¦e addresses her in that familiar tone. "Good morning, Ma''am. Good morning, Mr. Tan. We''ve all come her to se if we can help Sir Miguel."

    "Good¡ª" Claire stops mid-sentence; instinctively, she touches her hair and realizes she''s not wearing the blond wig. She''s not Bella at this moment, hence, Mary''s bewilderment.

    And yet, Mary stares at Claire''s eyes so intently; this is the first time she''s seeing Claire this close, and there''s something about her that strongly reminds her of someone else. "You look really familiar, Ma''am. Miss Claire. I just can''t quite figure out how."

    Claire makes a nervous laugh, and glances at Gabriel.

    "Thank you for coming, Mary," Gabriel says, saving the day. Then addresses the crowd. "Thank you, everybody, for this selfless gesture. I deeply appreciate it. I don''t know how I can repay you."

    "Sir, Mrs. Gomez said we can take the rest of the day off," someone at the back yelled.

    "She what?"

    "We can take the rest of the day off," Mary offers as she stands nearest them. "Mrs. Gomez said that. She said to treat this as a special holiday."

    "Oh," Gabriel mutters. "Okay." He looks around at the expectant faces. The presence of so many people from his company has turned the corridor into some sort of a standing-only conference. Gabriel sees they''re starting to affect the traffic of medical personnel and patients. He claps his hands. "Alright, thank you, guys. Sure, take this as a special holiday, paid holiday. And to make it even better, when you return to work tomorrow, there will be a special buffet spread at the employee dining room. It will be like Christmas."

    The people cheer; there''s a lot of excited chatter going on.

    "But first things first. Please proceed to that area over there to get tested. I''d also ask not to choke up the hallways as we don''t want to cause inconvenience to others. Please be mindful of the hospital''s policies. And again, I appreciate your help. Thank you."

    The crowd disperse, and yet, Mary stays standing there, gazing at Claire''s face.

    "Miss Claire, I feel like I''ve known you all my life."

    Claire laughs meaningfully. "Me, too, Mary."

    Mary gazes at her, as though she has no plans of going to the hospital lab. Gabriel, watching this all happen before his eyes and knowing the real reason why, taps Mary on the shoulder. "Mary, let me walk you to the testing area, please." He winks at Claire, as though saying, I got this.

    Claire, meanwhile, does not forget that she needs to get in touch with the company''s public relations team. She quickly walks over to one of the hospital''s phone booths, realizing for the tenth time that morning that she really should start carrying her own mobile phone. She''ll ask Gabriel about it. It''s really uncharacteristic of her to insist not using a phone in this day and age. And besides, she has growing responsibilities; she''s no longer just living for her own sake.

    The phone rings only twice when the other end picks it up. "Catherine Buenavista''s office," the cheerful voice on the other end says. "Hello?"

    "Hi," Claire says, introducing herself. "I need to speak with Catherine, please."

    "I''m sorry, but Catherine''s going out for a meeting and¡ª"

    "Tell her this is coming directly from Gabriel Tan."

    "Oh."

    Claire hears muffled voices. "Hello, Claire?" Catherine''s voice, like all PR practitioners, is too saccharine to be genuine. "What can I do for you today?"

    "Catherine, I know you came in late. So I don''t take it against you if you don''t know yet what happened with Gabriel and Miguel. But I need you to come down here at the hospital. I need to brief you on an emergency press release."

    "Oh, my God!" Now, the shock in Catherine''s voice is finally genuine. "What happened with the brothers? Are they safe?"

    "They''re safe. But their reputation is at stake. So what time can you come here?"

    Catherine pauses. "I''ll be there maybe in an hour."

    "Take out the ''maybe''. I need you here in fifteen minutes," Claire says, finally with that don''[email protected] tone. "And bring your entire team."

    If Catherine Buenavista is shocked by the tone of Claire''s voice, she doesn''t get the chance to express it, as Claire already hung up. "Who does she think she is?" Catherine mutters. Before her, her five-person public relations team await her word. She sighs; this is, after all, Claire Monteverde, Gabriel''s fianc¨¦e. They''re all going to have to live with her presence in the company moving forward.

    "Pack your stuff. Bring your ??ptops," she says to the team. "Something terrible must have happened with our boss. We''re all going to that hospital."

    Catherine Buenavista, one of Michelle Alcantara''s friends, is already out the door before her team could react.

 Chapter 145 - The Bloody Recap

    Muckraker magazine is planning a shitstorm of bad publicity, and Claire is trying to counter that by crafting her own public relations campaign.

    Michelle Alcantara is still trying to re-enter Gabriel''s life by taking every opportunity to be there whenever the need arises, such as now.

    And in the middle of it all, Miguel is still unconscious. He has received a unit of blood¡ªClaire''s blood¡ªand yet it''s not enough. More than half of Gabriel''s employees, including Michelle, have been processed and tested for compatibility, and none of them gets the greenlight.

    Things are looking bleak for Gabriel and Miguel.

    As he sits by Miguel in the ICU, watching his brother''s face, wondering about the utter calm in his expression, Gabriel wonders if this is judgment long in coming. Is this payment for all his bad decisions in the past? But why should Miguel be the one to pay?

    He misses Claire; he misses being alone with her with none of these problems. When he first started out with her, the future seemed rosy, all kisses and waking up late in bed, and seeing this lovely woman walking around his house¡ªshe is all his, and his alone.

    And yet, not a few weeks after he got her to say yes to his pleas, things seemed to continue descending into a pit of darkness. How he longs to go back to simplicity, or at least a semblance of it.

    And now this. Miguel, hurt beyond measure by his hand. How does he even explain this to their mother, Matilde? How does he explain to the world what happened? Does he justify his actions, or just accept all the blame?

    Somewhere in this hospital is a conference room, and one that Claire and his head of public relations, Catherine Buenavista, has commandeered in order to discuss quickly how they''d go about issuing a press release about what happened. Gabriel is tired of thinking and overthinking, and he hasn''t gotten not even an hour of sleep since last night, so he lets Claire, who seems to have started getting more and ore ?ssertive, which he likes, to take charge of the PR front. Meanwhile, Mrs. Gomez should be finishing up testing his people. If again, no one turns out to be compatible, he will finally flex his political and business muscle¡ªthe prospect of which he''s not very keen about, knowing it would create noise and unwanted attention from unwanted people.

    He hears knocks on the door. He expects it to be the doctor, but when he says, "Come in," it''s the girls¡ªClaire and the PR team, who appear.

    "We''ve agreed on an approach, Gab," Claire says.

    "Something we believe should be highly effective in managing people''s perception of you," says Catherine.

    Gabriel gives his brother a glance. He sighs. "Is it complicated?"

    "How do you mean?"

    "What does your plan involve?"

    "Well," Catherine begins, glancing at Claire, seeking for approval. Claire nods slightly. "What we''ve thought if is this: We will seed our own version of events in all the newspapers and social media pages of our companies and affiliates. The intention is to drown out whatever unflattering version of events would come from elsewhere."

    Gabriel looks at Catherine''s face, searching for truth in it. Catherine is a known Michelle Alcantara supporter, and somehow, he couldn''t fully "buy" whatever she says. And the tragedy is she''s his PR director. He turns to Claire. "What do you mean our version of events?"

    "It''s really not very different from what really happened. We''d just say we were having a few celebratory drinks at the lounge with Miguel, and somehow, he accidentally slipped on a wet floor," Claire says. "It''s decidedly neutral. It will shed light on whatever questions people might have about why Miguel''s in the hospital."

    Gabriel says nothing. The hear somebody knocking on the door, and Mrs. Gomez''s head peeps in. "Do you have time for a little good news?"

    "Please come in, Mrs. Gomez. Any news, as long as it''s not bad is welcome here."

    Mrs. Gomez steps inside, surprised to find Claire and Catherine in the room. "So that''s why the public relations squad is standing outside," she says. "Hello, Catherine. Didn''t see you earlier at the office."

    "I came in late," Catherine says sheepishly.

    "Well," Mrs. Gomez says, regaining her bearings. "I ''m glad to tell you we finally found a healthy compatible donor."

    "Really? Who is it?" Claire says.

    "It''s Mary, from one of our sales units. She''s having her blood extracted right as we speak.

    The room has breathes a collective sigh of relief.

    "Thank goodness," Catherine says. "At least that''s one less matter to think about."

    "Thank you, Mrs. Gomez. But just for contingency, can you call up your contacts in other cities," Gabriel says. "Just so we can find matching blood in advance?"

    "Sure, Mr. Tan."

    After Mrs. Gomez leaves, Gabriel faces his "girls": on one hand, it seems to make sense, this suggestion by Claire, who knows, of course, what''s at stake. But he feels something off about not telling it the way it happened. Is it really so wrong to tell the truth?

    "Remember what I mentioned earlier about Occam''s Razor?" he says to Claire, while Catherine''s brow knits out of intrigue. "Occam''s Razor is a very simple principle. It only says that the simpler explanation is most probably the true one. Sure, we can say that we had a few drinks at the lounge, leading to Miguel''s accident, in a completely neutral angle. But we''ve never had any airtight personal privacy or public relations policy. The Residence has almost a hundred employees, for starters, and each one of those could have already talked or sent pictures of us to their friends and family. The public has always inevitably known about every single thing that happened with me: Michelle Alcantara betraying me, for example. I weathered the storm, remember, Catherine?"

    Catherine nods; she says nothing.

    "I also owe the truth to Miguel¡ªI want to acknowledge his love, or infatuation, and I want people to learn a few lessons from this. That''s why I think, regardless of our fears, which I''m sure are legitimate, there''s only one way to solve this." Turning to Claire, he says, "Love, I appreciate the effort. It warms my heart, believe me, to see you taking charge about this. But forgive me, but I will have to do what I feel I must do. And that''s to face the music."

    "Are you telling the public everything, Sir?" Catherine could not believe it.

    "Yes, every single thing," Gabriel says. "Schedule a press conference for me tomorrow."

 Chapter 146 - The Big Reveal

    Despite having had very little sleep since he''d taken over Patrick''s workstation yesterday morning, Gary Smulder feels good today. His big story has undergone a few revisions, thanks to Patrick''s keen editorial sense, and now he must only apply the few finishing touches. Maybe quite unnecessary, but this is for his ego: he''d insert a few "Easter eggs" here and there throughout the article, just for sh1ts and giggles.

    And nothing could kick-start a late morning than a hot, steaming mug of brewed coffee, courtesy of the Muckraker magazine''s old trusty Mr. Coffee coffeemaker. If there''s anything good about this office, Gary ponders, it''s these little freebies. If only Patrick could include an unlimited supply of donuts to go with the coffee, though. But perhaps that would be for another time, when the magazine hits paydirt.

    He glances at the wall clock¡ªit''s nearly ten in the morning. Patrick would probably come in late today, while all the other staff are at the printers. They''d all come in late. Which means he has the entire office, small as it is, to himself. He could even pretend he''s the lord of this domain. He could sit on Patrick''s big boss chair, and prop his feet up on the table, without anyone looking down on him. So that''s what Gary actually does. He sips his coffee, closes his eyes, and hums his favorite song, whose title he forgets at the moment. He could live like this forever. And if this article catapults him to the shining pantheon of the yellowest journalism, he would¡ª

    Gary is jolted back to the present, as the office''s door swings wildly open. It''s Patrick, red in the face, stomping through the threshold with murder on his face. "I swear to God, I will¡ª" he doesn''t finish his words, as he snatches the TV remote control and smashes the bu??ons. The old TV attached to the wall blinks to life.

    "Is there any problem, Patrick?"

    "Oh, I don''t have a problem, Gary. But I think YOU have a problem so gargantuan I think you can just kiss that promotion goodbye."

    "What?" Gary tries to grin, as in "You''re freaking kidding me, Patrick" kind of grin. "Are you serious?"

    Patrick points to the TV. "Watch."

    So Gary, as told, looks at the scene unfolding on the TV. At first it seems nothing important is happening; a bunch of reporters in a room, with a lovely woman sitting by a long table and thanking the press for coming. A tent card on the table right in front of her says her name is "Catherine Buenavista, TXCI." Gary''s brow furrows¡ªTXCI? Isn''t that Gabriel''s¡ª

    And as if on cue, Gabriel Tan appears and sits beside Catherine. He''s wearing a gray suit over a white, crisp-looking shirt. No tie. The suit is unbuttoned. And yet, Gabriel''s face is all serious, but still "pretty"¡ªGary could see why women swoon over this man.

    "Thank you all for coming," Gabriel begins to say, making eye contact with the members of the press who at this point have fallen silent, awaiting his words with bated breath. "As mentioned by Miss Buenavista, what I''m letting you know this morning is not business as usual. This is not about a new product, or a new business, or my bold predictions on the business outlook of the world''s industries for the coming year. This is about something old, as old as time itself." Gabriel pauses. He glances to the side, as though looking with longing at someone standing unseen in the corner. Then he turns to the press. "This is about love."

    "What in hell is he doing?" Gary asks, not that he''s expecting an answer.

    "He''s cramping our style, that''s what he''s doing." Patrick paces the floor, shaking his head, pointing a finger at the computer screen, where Gary''s draft of a write-up is open on a word processor. "He''s basically making that masterpiece of literature du jour totally irrelevant."

    Gary''s mouth hangs open; he couldn''t believe it. A part of him hopes the next time Gabriel opens his mouth, lies and more lies would tumble out. The kind of lies that would only make his Muckraker write-up much more compelling for people on the streets.

    The reporters rise in excited chatter. "What do you mean love?" "Do you have another new fianc¨¦e?" "What do you really talk about when you talk about love?"

    "Yesterday morning, my brother, Miguel, had an accident," Gabriel says, gazing at each of the reporters'' faces. "It was an accident that was largely because of the love he had for a woman he, or rather ''we'', only met less than a month ago. In any other context, falling in love at first sight would have been fine; our movies and all literature is rife with such kinds of inexplicable romances. But Miguel''s love only had one little, and yet vital, curve ball: the subject of his affection is the same woman I call my fianc¨¦e. Claire Monteverde."

    The room explodes in excitement; cameras flash like crazy. "Do you mean it''s a love triangle?" "Did you try to kill him?" "Where is Miguel now?"

    Gabriel raises his hands to calm everyone down. He waits until the room falls into respectful silence again. "Miguel fell in love with Claire. I fell in love with Claire, too, but maybe I was just more fortunate. That''s why I understood where Miguel was coming from. And although I was aware of his feelings, I did not take it badly. I was just waiting for him to move on, to get on with life. After all, he''s still one of the most eligible bachelors on this side of town. He could get anyone else he wants, couldn''t he?"

    The crowd murmurs their ?ssent.

    "But as fate would have it, Miguel continued descending into what we can call an emotional tunnel, until he couldn''t seem to find his way back. That''s when I tried to talk to him. Heart to heart. But sadly, I never got a good opportunity." Gabriel pauses. He takes a sip from a bottled water. He appears to be weighing his next words. "Until early yesterday morning, he arrived at my fianc¨¦e''s home, and not in the finest moods and disposition. When I learned about it, I immediately drove all the way there. That''s when I found him in what I thought was an act of ?ssault. So I grabbed him only to remove him from that situation where he might harm Claire irreversibly. And somehow, in the chaos of that moment, Miguel''s head hit a table and was injured. That''s the reason we''re in the hospital. That''s the reason why we''re asking for blood donations from anyone who would volunteer. And if you all may know, the very first one who donated blood was Claire."

    Gary, still in the Muckraker office, feels his throat has run dry, parched, like a desert. Patrick stands so near the TV on the wall, his face inscrutable.

    "Miguel is fine," Gabriel continues. "He''s receiving the best possible medical care. We''re all trying to solve this problem as a family, and by family, I mean also including Claire. We are going to have a good talk when he gets well, and I will continue to appraise you of any update regarding his condition. Which I will do just so there wouldn''t be any nasty rumor circulating that is only meant to throw shade at my family''s name."

    "Get up," Patrick says to Gary at the Muckraker office. "We''re done. There''s no story. Go out there and find a new one. We''re deleting this goddamned thing."

    "But Pat¡ª"

    "Go," Patrick says; he''s so upset that his ears are red. When Patrick''s ears are this red, you better vanish instantly or risk earning his volcanic wrath. So Gary jumps out of the chair. But as he''s about to go, he takes one glance at the TV¡ªand stays glued to it, especially when one reporter has the guts to throw a question everyone has been itching to ask Gabriel Tan.

    "But is it true, Gabriel," a reporter says. "That Claire Monteverde isn''t the world-weary, cosmopolitan, uber-rich and fashion-forward personality you painted her out to be? She¡ª"

    "Next question, please," Catherine Buenavista bu??s in. "We won''t dignify such questions with an actual response, so please¡ª"

    "No, it''s fine," Gabriel finally says. "Thank you, Catherine."

    "The persistent rumor is that you merely hired her to pretend to be your fianc¨¦e," the reporter says. "So is it true that she''s not the person you''ve tried to make her out to be? That she''s just a common girl?"

    Catherine, who sits beside Gabriel, is gazing at him with that odd expression, like she''s also dying to know the truth. She knows Michelle Alcantara had planted some of her people here, posing as reporters, paid to ask the most embarrassing questions. This last one was definitely one of Michelle''s henchmen, and up to the last moment, Catherine believed that Gabriel would just laugh off the question and dismiss it like the dirty speculation it''s supposed to be. But now Gabriel actually looks like he''s about to give an actual answer.

    Gabriel gazes at Claire standing on the sidelines; she''s teary-eyed, but she manages to nod and mouth out the words, "Go ahead." Face the music, he said yesterday. And yes, he''s tired of hiding, of telling lies. Claire deserves a day out in the sun, to be recognized for who she really is.

    "Yes, it''s true," Gabriel finally says. "And the truth is much more wonderful than fiction."

 Chapter 147 - The Fake Engagement

    Now, the room even gets crazier with what Gabriel just said; if the questions were rain, Gabriel would be drenched.

    But Gabriel keeps an expressionless face; he says nothing, waiting for the room''s excitement to die down.

    "Please stay in your seats. Let Gabriel address your questions clearly. We can''t work like this if you don''t follow the agreed protocol," Catherine says, standing, her gestures extra-animated. She''s telling he crowd to keep still, yet she''s obviously agitated, too¡ªshe didn''t expect what Gabriel just said. She had known how much Michelle Alcantara had hated the girl, Claire, but she had dismissed it as nothing but the hatred of an ex, of a woman scorned. Now it seems Michelle''s resentment has a basis.

    "It is true," Gabriel continues in a steady, clear voice, looking at those before him. "I first met Claire as a job applicant less than a month ago. Right at a time when I was deeply hurting from what happened to my personal relationship. I''m sure you are aware of what happened between me and my previous fianc¨¦e, Michelle. It''s all a matter of public record, no matter how much I wanted to keep my personal life private." He sighs. "When I first met Claire, and she doesn''t know this even now, I was struck by how she''d gaze into your eyes. Like you could drown in those eyes and not even care about getting back. That''s how deeply I was impressed by her. And the funny thing was, she wasn''t even trying. She was just answering all the standard questions I threw at her. But something clicked inside me. I thought of something crazy, which now, in hindsight, was indeed absolutely absurd. Instead of hiring her for an open job position, I made up a job on the spot: I asked her to pretend to be my new fianc¨¦e."

    For some weird reason, the crowd stays quiet and still this time, as though giving Gabriel space to frame his thoughts.

    "I knew that right from the start!" Gary Smulder exclaims, still watching the event unfold in the Muckraker office. "I knew something was wrong. I was at that pool party, Pat¡ª"he turns to Patrick, who''s also still watching the TV¡ª"and they kicked me out. I spoke to that girl, Claire. I didn''t even realize it was her until they kicked me out and saw all the¡ª"

    "If you knew all of that, then where the hell is the juicy write-up you could have written?" Patrick''s voice by now has turned cold, as though he has already accepted defeat; that this ship has sailed, leaving them marooned in the island of obscurity.

    "Well¡­" is all Gary manages to say.

    "And yes, I admit, it was childish. But with everything that was going on at the time, I thought pretend-hiring her would be the surest way to keep her around and get to know her, instead of going the usual route. I could have chosen another way. I could have been a better man. But it was what it was. And I guess, in the end, I just got lucky."

    "So you hired her, like a ''special employee'' answerable only to you. Does that mean her home at one of your boutique hotels is provided by your company, too?" One of the reporters asks.

    "No, all the expenses are coming from my own personal funds," Gabriel says. "This is not publicly known, but The Residence is not part of any of my existing holding companies."

    "If you say that you hired Claire Monteverde as a pretend fianc¨¦e, you also said earlier that both you and Miguel fell in love with her, and you were the lucky one. Does it mean you''re currently in a real relationship now? That there''s no pretense, anymore?"

    "Yes," Gabriel says "It''s a long story, a crazy rollercoaster ride, and I would love to tell you that in another time. But now let''s just stay within the¡ª"

    "But how can you be sure that she really loves you? What if she only wants you for your status and money? After all, your ''relationship'' began as a paid arrangement, right?"

    Gabriel sighs. He looks at the reporter who asked that question; it''s a lady he has never seen before. Maybe some newbie one of the newspapers sent here. And if that''s true, should he feel offended that media outfits are now just sending newbies to his press conference? He glances at Claire; she''s still standing there, partly hidden in the shadows, and he could feel what she feels. Face the music, he tells himself. Tell everything. The truth shall set you free. Besides, the question makes sense¡ªhow does he know, really?

    "Trying to answer that in a practical sense reminds me of an old line from an old novel," Gabriel says. "To a man born blind, how do you explain sight? What words do you use? To know if Claire really loves me is to know and feel that she smiles the way she smiles because of me. But you know what? I am happy. And that''s the only thing that matters. I''m happy to see her, to be with her, to discover what life has yet in store for the both of us. Does she really love me despite how our relationship started? Yes, I believe so, and the proof of that is largely invisible. It happens in those little magical moments that I could no longer describe to you. It happens in those moments that I''m only grateful to have the privilege to experience. I regret ever lying to the world about Claire. Because the truth is, who cares about a person''s status in life when it comes to love? Who cares if you''re rich or poor or stupid or underprivileged? I lied because I was so conditioned by my upbringing, about the world I build every single day. I lied because I was blind to the truth. And Claire cured me from all that blindness. This may be sappy, or corny, but when you''re in love, the corniest lines become music to the ears." Gabriel pauses, gazing at them all. "And we''re all here, in this room, on this bitter-sweet morning, because of that love."

    Some of the ladies in the crowd, supposedly veterans in the newsroom, begin sniffling, so moved by Gabriel''s n?k?d declaration of his feelings. One of them, sitting in the front row, timidly asks, "What now, Gab?"

    Gabriel smiles. ???Well, we''re just trying to enjoy our lives, one moment at a time." He stands up, finally. "Thank you all for coming. I appreciate it." He leaves. The reporters chase him with more questions, but his security detail jumps in, making sure Gabriel gets out safely, back in the comfort of Claire''s arms.

    "That was quite a show," Gary says, turning off the TV. "And in the gentle words of that same reporter, ''What now, Boss?"

    Patrick scoffs. "Here''s something. A senator was just discovered in bed with a fourteen-year-old pr?st?tut?," Patrick reads off his computer screen. "Go and interview not the senator, but that pr?st?tut?. Talk to her, talk to her friends, check if she has a mother, paint a sob story. Go get it. No time to waste. There are ten freaking blank pages in this week''s issue because of Gabriel''s stunt, and we need that by nightfall. Go."

    "Sure," Gary mutters. How low he has instantly fallen¡ªfrom covering the country''s richest man, to talking to teenaged pr?st?tut?s. It''s mighty hard to get motivated from this; you can''t get anything better than a story about Gabriel and Claire. There''s no coming back from that. And as he steps out into the morning sun, Gary Smulder, esquire, eight-year on-and-off reporter for this stupid little publication, is thinking about quitting. He turns back and gazes at the yellowed signage of Muckraker magazine hanging above the front door; yeah, he thinks. Anywhere else is better than here. Like Gabriel, maybe it''s time to face the music.

 Chapter 148 - The Bowler

    Gabriel removes himself from the press conference like some rock star who had just finished a concert. In the hallway outside the conference room of the TXCI building, he joins Claire, who runs up to him and throws her arms around him.

    "Thank you," she whispers, teary-eyed. "Thank you so much, Gab."

    "I should have done that right when we first became real. Should not have prolonged that lie."

    Claire smiles, tearing flowing down her cheeks. "But still. That was a load off my ?h?st."

    Catherine Buenavista, who has been watching this exchange, says, "That was a bold move, Sir. I didn''t know you were set to do it, though." She laughs nervously, as people mill around them. "I would have advised otherwise, but¡ª"

    "It''s alright, Cath. I take all the responsibility." He takes Claire''s hand. "Now, we''d have to go and check on Miguel''s condition. The doctor said¡ª"

    He never finishes his words¡ªMichelle Alcantara appears before them with murder in her face. She has her eyes on Claire.

    "So I was right all along," Michelle scoffs, her laser-eyes burning into Claire''s face. "You were an impostor. A low-life, social-climbing fianc¨¦e for hire. I knew it ever since I saw you in that party. You had none of the patina of glitz and glamour, you faker!"

    "How dare you¡ª" Gabriel begins to say, but Claire stops him, and faces Michelle.

    "You know what," Claire says, obviously trying hard to hold back her own rage. "Who needs glitz and glamour when you have real love, Michelle? Do you like what you have now? Has it brought you the contentment your heart needs?"

    Michelle flashes a smile, but it''s one that totally lacks joy. "I have everything I need, girl. And more. And none of what I have you will ever get, in this lifetime or the next. You will always be the woman some rich man hired to be his fake fianc¨¦e."

    "Where were you when Gabriel was out there, telling the whole world how his fake relationship has become real?" If you''d look at Claire''s face, you''d think she''s the higher person trying to drill some sense into a mad woman. "Fake is soooo yesterday," she says, mimicking Michelle''s accent and behavior. "Today, it''s as real as the ground we''re standing on."

    Michelle could only b?r? her fangs. "Slut!"

    Claire laughs at that and shakes her head. "At least I didn''t cheat on anyone who had loved me for ten years, Michelle. So between the two of us, who''s the absolute s?ut?"

    Michelle Alcantara''s eyes gleam with pure anger for a split-second, then her hand flies into a blur, slapping Claire in the face so hard that the impact makes her reeling back.

    Claire touches her cheek in disbelief¡ªhere, in public, surrounded by reporters who just minutes ago were regaled by Gabriel''s tale of extraordinary love and affection, Michelle Alcantara, a supposedly respected businesswoman, stoops down so low Claire wonders if her reputation would ever recover. She straightens herself up and even b?r?s her face, taunting Michelle to slap her once more. Claire thinks if she slaps Michelle back, she would lose the upper hand in the eyes of the crowd that Michelle had unwittingly given her. She recalls the events of that pool party from weeks ago, when she and Michelle had a slapping-and-hair-pulling match right in front of Gabriel''s friends. She''s not that kind of girl anymore. Maybe it has something to do with Gabriel''s influence in her life and attitude.

    So she holds back, although her cheek stings and she knows it''s beet red from the force of that slap.

    "Come out of that fake meekness, tiger woman," Michelle taunts, obviously trying to engage her in some catfight. "Come out, faker."

    Somebody from the back of the crowd yells, "Slap her back! Give the bitch what she''s asking for!"

    But Claire, seeing the big picture, simply smiles. "You have gained nothing, Michelle. And yet you have lost everything."

    "Why, you¡ª"

    But before Michelle''s hand can do some more damage, an arm grabs her¡ªit''s Catherine Buenavista, Michelle''s friend and loyalist, and Gabriel''s director of public relations. "That''s enough, Michelle. You''ve already created a regrettable spectacle here."

    Michelle is stunned¡ªshe couldn''t believe it.

    "Stop now," Catherine insists. She glances at both Gabriel and Claire. "I''m sorry. I should have controlled this."

    "Are you with them now?" Michelle glares at Catherine. "How dare you¡ª"

    "That''s enough ''dares'' for today, Michelle. And no, I''m not being ''with them'', I''m just doing the decent thing, which is to save you from further making a fool out of yourself. Come on."

    "No."

    "No?"

    "Leave me alone. I''m not finished with this s?ut, yet."

    "Oh, but I''m finished with you," Claire says with utter coolness. "Come on, Gab. We''ve yet to speak with Miguel''s doctor."

    "Oh, no, you''re not going," Michelle snarls. Her face is all beet red, filmy with sweat. Whatever elegance Michelle must have had earlier as a moneyed person, she''s about lost it all now. "We''re finished when I say we''re finished." She grabs Claire arm, pulling at her. "You''re not going anywhere, you big s?ut!"

    That''s the last straw. Something snaps in Claire''s head¡ªshe''s her mother''s daughter, after all. She grew up not taking any shit from anybody. And that moment Michelle Alcantara is grabbing her arm, trying to pull her, Claire''s mind whites out. She makes a quick movement to free her arm from Michelle''s grasp, then she grabs Michelle by the ??pel of her coat, then drags her down and throws her sliding down the floor, like someone hurling a bowling ball down the lane. It doesn''t help that the floor is polished marble, while Michelle''s clothing is silk and therefore slippery¡ªMichelle slides down the floor and rolls like a human merry-go-round, her arms and feet sticking up in the air in her vain attempt to get some footing.

    Cameras flash like crazy, as the reporters outdo one another in getting the most striking, if not hilarious, angle of Michelle Alcantara, previously a favorite magazine cover model back in the days when she had been Gabriel''s fianc¨¦e, sprawled on the floor, blinking in disbelief.

    "Smile for us, please," one reporter even cheekily said, which is met with a roar of laughter.

    Big picture? Reputation? To hell with all that bullshit, Claire thinks, as she takes Gabriel by the arm, away from that place.

 Chapter 149 - The Briefest Consciousness

    The following day, newspapers, magazines, TV programs, and social media are all abuzz with not only Gabriel''s big confession, which is now a trending topic all over the world, but also the scuffle between Claire and Michelle. Memes have quickly sprouted all over social media, for instance, of Michelle sprawled on the floor, her feet sticking up in the air. It''s the kind of damage that could only make seasoned public relations practitioner Catherine Buenavista shake her head in regret, knowing that her old friend, Michelle, truly had it coming.

    "I will sue her ?ss," a red-faced Michelle screams on the TV, as reporters thrust their mics and audio recorders to her face trying to get the scoop. "That s?ut will go to prison. She thinks she can do something like that and get away with it? No!"

    "But she''s now the true fianc¨¦e of Gabriel Tan, and you also got physical with her. Do you think a lawsuit would be fruitful?"

    Michelle scoffs, and turns her back on the camera.

    Gary Smulder is on the sidewalk, marveling at the frontpages of newspapers, almost always featuring Gabriel and Claire, in an impromptu face-off with his old flame, Michelle. No one could have made this thing up¡ªit was a scene that''s meant for popular public consumption. The public would go to great lengths just to read stories like this. He sighs; damn it, he was on the cusp of success, and Gabriel deciding to just deal with it squarely took away Gary''s chances at making it big.

    Meanwhile, Gabriel and Claire are back at the hospital, speaking with Miguel''s doctor. As it turns out, Miguel had awakened briefly the previous day, and the first thing he mentioned was Gabriel''s name.

    "He opened his eyes just like that," the doctor says. "He was disoriented, of course. Couldn''t remember where he was or why he was there. He was looking for his brother. This was a few hours after we completed the blood transfusion and his vitals were picking up."

    "And then?" Emotion is apparent in Gabriel''s voice.

    "The nurse explained bits and pieces to him. How he had an accident, so on and so forth. Of course, that was only as far as what the nurse knew." The doctor gazes uneasily at Gabriel. "No one knew the little things that really led up to the accident. We learned the broad strokes only from, uhh, your, uhhh, press conference yesterday. Then he stopped talking. He was just looking at the wall. Then we noticed he has fallen asleep."

    Miguel is still asleep as they are discussing this. "Is this normal, this sleepiness?"

    "Well," the doctor clears his throat. "Should be. His vital signs are good. We''re getting no red flags in his system. It''s very possibly his body''s reaction to the recent transfusion. And the medicine. Usually cases like this needs only a few more days to recover. I wouldn''t be surprised if I find him on his own two feet tomorrow or the next day."

    Gabriel looks at Claire. "That''s great news!"

    Claire notices that the doctor couldn''t stop staring at her face¡ªhe''d talk, but his eyes always find her, glancing at her sideways even as he makes a point. "Do I have a smudge on my face, Doc?" she says, smiling.

    The doctor is surprised for having been caught. "Sorry, I just¡­I just like you both to know I watched the press conference yesterday, from start to finish. I''m¡­I''m a big fan of your love team."

    Gabriel has to laugh. "We''re not a ''love team'', Doc. We''re just two people in love."

    "Yeah, I know." Then in sing-song, "I can feel the love tonight!"

    They all laugh. The doctor looks as if he has no plans of leaving, until his pager buzzes. "The ER beckons," he says, reading off the pager. "Glad to have met you, Gabriel, Claire. As I said, I love stories like what you have. It brings light to this darkness. It gives people hope that there are good, beautiful things that still exist in the world."

    "Oh, thank you, Doc," Claire gushes, glancing at Gabriel.

    "I just hope I continue to be lucky," Gabriel says.

    They watch the doctor walk away to his next appointment.

    "Do you think we should wait here until Miguel wakes up again?"

    "Sure," Claire says. She smiles. "I wouldn''t want to miss the next time he opens his eyes. There''s a lot of catching up to do."

    "That could take hours, you know. He might wake up late tonight."

    "I''m fine by that as long as you''re here with me." She takes his arm and wraps it around her waist. "There, you can never escape now."

    "You truly are inescapable," he laughs. Then his mood grows pensive. "There''s only something that worries me a bit."

    "What is it?"

    He pauses and looks at her. "Nah, let''s not spoil the moment. I''m sure we''d encounter no more curveballs after this. We can be happy again."

    And yet, somewhere, at that very moment, in an island paradise a few hours of airplane flight from where Gabriel is, Matilde Tan watches the TV with amazement. The matriarch of the Tan family is just having a little layover before she proceeds to her next destination somewhere in Asia, to visit one of her company''s smartphone manufacturing centers. But the events unfolding on the TV have caught her attention¡ªa re-run of yesterday''s press conference. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Matilde mutters, watching Gabriel say things about love. And if there''s anything she understands from the context of this little stunt, it''s that Miguel, her younger son, seems unwell, and all because of some unknown woman¡ªwhom she''s quite sure is nothing but some gold-digging hussy.

    She tries to grab her tall glass of pina colada on the table beside her, but her trembling hand sends it tumbling into the wooden floor. And yet she pays it no mind. "Albert," she says aloud. "Albert, where are you?"

    A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a thin moustache appears almost magically by her side. "I''m here, Madam."

    "We''re leaving," Matilde Tan says, her face dark. "Have my jet ready at this very minute. My two sons are going ''loco'' over some girl." She glances at what remains of her cold beverage on the floor as she stands up. "They need their old mother to slap the madness out of their heads."

 Chapter 150 - The Light Returns

    The moment Miguel opens his eyes, the first thought in his head is: Where''s Gab? The hospital room is brightly lit, there are machines that surround him, and in a corner, a nurse occupies a small desk and she seems to be writing on a chart.

    "Hello," he says aloud, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "Hello, can I have some water, please?"

    "Oh, my God, Sir, you''re awake!" The nurse is suddenly walking about and tapping on machines and looking at readings. "My goodness! Please, wait, Sir, I''ll get you some water."

    The nurse disappears into a side-door, and returns almost in an instant, bearing a glass of still water. She helps Miguel sit up. The man gulps down the water like he''s been walking in the desert for so long, and only now he''s found shelter.

    Miguel wipes with the back of his hand some of the water that dribbled down his chin. He smiles. "Thank you so much."

    The nurse smiles, too. "Your brother has been waiting for you. Should I let him know you''re now awake?"

    Miguel thinks about it for a moment, searching his memory. When was the last time he''d seen Gabriel? It seems like it was a lifetime ago. "Please, do."

    The nurse disappears. If this is the same hospital where they''d brought Gabriel not a fortnight ago, then his brother would be waiting in a nearby sitting room. Everything''s hazy. He''s not even sure why he''s here. It all seems like he''s been dreaming¡ªlike he''s been moving underwater, his arms and legs heavy, moving in slow-motion. His memory is too hazy, too. He recalls, as if in a dream, Claire as a face coming out of the dark; she said words, and yet he doesn''t remember them. That''s all he remembers. When yesterday he had woken up momentarily, the doctor mentioned something about an accident. Was he in a car crash? The doctor said not to think too much for the meantime, to get a lot of rest, and let Gabriel fill him in. But fill him in on what, exactly?

    "Migs!" Gabriel cries at the door. He''s instantly upon him, giving him the most desperate embrace he''s experienced in a while. "Oh, my God! Thank God you''re back," Gabriel mutters as he sobs like a child. "I thought I lost you, brother. You can''t imagine¡­"

    "I''m here, I''m fine, Gab," he says, his voice still hoarse.

    Gabriel looks him over, gently touching his bandaged head. "How do you feel?"

    Miguel makes a face and shrugs. "Better, I guess. I mean, I had no idea what this felt. Whatever this is." He gives Gabriel a look. "Care to explain what this is? The doctor said you''d fill me in. Did I bump into a tree or something?"

    Gabriel pauses. He sighs. "How much do you remember?"

    "I''m not sure," Miguel says. "I kind of remember Claire¡­Her face, at least. Like we were talking. But that''s it. All I get is this dreadful confusion whenever I try to make an effort to ''remember'', you know."

    "Don''t strain yourself," Gabriel sighs. "It''s time we talked about the big white elephant in the room."

    Miguel''s brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

    Gabriel sits by the bed, facing his brother. He tries to smile, obviously trying to sense how to best proceed with this. Then he remembers the previous day''s press conference¡ªthe principle of it. How he just tried to keep it as simple and truthful as possible. If there''s anything his brother needs, it should be nothing but honesty. Brutal frankness. Mincing words wouldn''t help.

    "Miguel," Gabriel begins, searching his brother''s eyes. "I knew you liked Claire. We had this little ''dance'' with her before. I never really thought about it. Took it for granted. Maybe because I had this inappropriate sense of entitlement. That I was the one who sort of ''found'' her, and who should naturally ''earn'' her love in return. What I''m just trying to say is, I didn''t realize until it was too late that your feelings for her were more real than I wanted to acknowledge."

    Miguel says nothing.

    "But what Claire and I have is real. It has always been real, we just didn''t realize it at first. I didn''t realize it at first. You know that, don''t you? I learned about what you tried to do. All the stalking, the inappropriate advances. You even tried to¡­I couldn''t believe it at first. It didn''t seem like something my own brother would do, especially to me or to the woman you knew belonged with me. It hurt me, Migs. Deeply."

    "I''m sorry," Miguel mutters. He sniffles. He couldn''t look at him. He touches the back of his bandaged head. "Was that the reason for this accident?"

    "You were very drunk that night, Miguel. I''m not sure if you remember, but we tried to speak with you. We were supposed to meet at lunch, do you remember?"

    Miguel gazes at him blankly. "When was that?"

    Gabriel sighs. "Don''t worry about that. But the point is, you came to Claire''s place, at The Residence, blind drunk. I came as fast as I could. Because I thought that was the right opportunity to talk to you. I just didn''t realize how drunk you were. When I arrived, you were at the lounge with Claire, and the first thing I saw was¡­I saw you grabbing her. Right in the lounge. In the full view of some of the staff and¡­"

    "Jesus¡­" Miguel squints. "I did that?"

    Gabriel nods calmly.

    Miguel wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. And yet, the tears stream down his cheeks. "My God! I was such a monster."

    "All I tried to do was take you off her," Gabriel says. "But maybe I was so nervous. Or angry. Or just in panic. But I yanked you out so hard that you bumped your head." He sighs, weighing his next words. "That''s why we''re here. I''ve been pulling my hair from regret and misery ever since. I couldn''t accept that I hurt you. But I knew I wouldn''t have been in that position if I didn''t see what was happening, what you were trying to do. All this conflict was tearing me apart, Migs. Tell me what I must do to put an end to this?"

    Miguel keeps sobbing into his fist quietly. Gabriel is teary-eyed as well. He puts his arms around his brother. "I''m sorry, man," Gabriel says. "But I love Claire. I love her so much. I don''t know what to do. I remember what you did for me years ago, when you made that sacrifice so I could be with Michelle. But I don''t know. I couldn''t do it for you this time, knowing now that Claire returns my feelings."

    "Does she love you truthfully without a shadow of a doubt?" Miguel says. "Because if she loves you as much as you love him, I will¡ª"

    "I love your brother without a shadow of a doubt, Migs," says a voice. That sweet familiar voice that has haunted him all his nights.

    Miguel looks up. His heart jumps in his ?h?st upon seeing that breathtaking vision: it''s Claire, looking immaculate in a white dress, smiling at him.

 Chapter 151 - The Reunion

    "Hi, Migs," Claire mutters softly, uncertain about how to proceed. She seeks Gabriel''s eyes for reassurance; he nods and stands up and taps Miguel on a shoulder.

    "I''ll let you two catch up," Gabriel says, smiling, as he slips out the door.

    "How are you?" Claire says, and she really means it. Miguel still looks pale, as though he''s able to sit here only through great effort. The bandage around his head looks freshly applied, and the bag of IV fluid is full. The machines look normal. But for some reason, she has to hear it straight from Miguel''s mouth how he''s feeling, how he''s taking all of this.

    "I''m¡­I''m fine," he mutters sheepishly. He avoids her eyes. He couldn''t look at her now, knowing what he did and the trouble he has caused.

    "That''s¡­That''s good," Claire says, smiling. "We did everything to find matching blood for your emergency transfusion. I was glad my blood matched yours."

    Miguel''s ears perk up¡ªit is new information. Something the doctors, nurses, or even Gabriel failed to mention. "You gave your own blood to me?"

    Claire also realizes it even as Miguel throws her the question: she could feel him picturing her own blood, once a part of her body, her life, coursing now through his own veins, being pumped by his own heart. She doesn''t know what to feel about it. "Yes, fortunately so. It was plainly bad timing. Your blood type was quite rare, the rarest in the world. The hospital didn''t have any stocks of it, not even the nearby blood banks in the city. But as it turned out, mine was, too." She smiles. "I didn''t hesitate, Miguel. I was afraid of needles and all, but I couldn''t stand the thought of losing you."

    Miguel finally looks up, his eyes ringed with tears. And yet, he says nothing.

    Claire meets his eyes and holds it for a second, then she looks away. She tries to stop her own tears, but it falls down her cheeks, like a drop of diamond. "Do you remember what happened?" she asks at length.

    "Yes," Miguel says quietly. "Painfully so. Gabriel told me. I can¡­ I can sit here and pretend I don''t know what I was doing, that I was hopelessly drunk. But that would be an outright lie." He looks at her. "I''m sorry, Claire. I was weak. I let myself be blinded by my emotions. I had a strong sense of entitlement. What Miguel wants, Miguel gets, and all that baloney. I didn''t realize I was being so utterly foolish."

    Claire sighs. All the while she had been standing a meter or so from Miguel''s bed, but now she takes the chair right by the bed. She takes Miguel''s hand and squeezes it. "I will be very happy if we can all move on from this."

    Miguel squeezes back her hand. He has to admit, holding her feels good. Being near her feels good. He could smell her perfume, and he has always ?ssociated that scent with Claire. And now, he could breathe her in. He smiles to himself; it''s not possible to just suddenly declare he has lost all his feelings for her. It doesn''t work like that. Even now he swoons; he''s giddy from the feeling of holding her hand like this. As though something''s going on. But no¡ªin the end, his foolishness must stop. He''s in this hospital room because he was foolish. He was the one who had the injury, but he had hurt his brother and he put Claire in danger. Miguel closes his eyes; yes, maybe it is possible to continue on with life without the possibility of ever having Claire in his arms. Maybe he''ll take one day at a time. Little baby steps, but that could work. That could help him look beyond the pain of the present.

    "Yes," he mutters finally. "Don''t worry. You''ll see a new Miguel from now on. Once I get out of this darned hospital room, I''ll prove to you what a changed person I am."

    "Promise me you won''t ever try to do that thing again? Grabbing me in a dark place?"

    Miguel laughs. "Oh, no. Please, I don''t even want to remember that. It was a dark episode in my life. I just want to look at light and love from here on."

    Claire laughs, too. "Then allow me to be the one to ''grab'' you this time." She throws her arms around him in a friendly embrace, just to reassure him she''s fine, that everything''s fine. "Thank you so much," she whispers. "I will be your most loyal friend, Miguel. You can always count on me. If ever you''re dating someone new, you can ask me what I think about her. I might be a good judge of character, you know."

    "Sure," Miguel says. His eyes are ringed with tears, but he''s finally smiling. Like a load has been taken off his ?h?st. "But I don''t think I''ll be dating anyone soon. I might choose to stay alone like this for a long while. Think about where I am, where I''m headed to, what''s my place under the sun."

    "Oh, no, you don''t," she says. "You should start meeting other girls as soon as you get out of this room. Just have fun. Just promise me and your brother that you won''t do anything silly and dangerous like last time, okay?"

    Miguel nods. "Sure."

    Claire raises a pinky finger. "What do you say we solemnize that with a pinky swear?"

    Miguel laughs, but he obliges. "Pinky swear, Claire. A promise that will never be broken."

    They''re both laughing and giggling when the door opens and Gabriel returns. "Any joke I missed?" He smiles.

    "Oh, nothing, really. We talked about really serious stuff, Gab," she says., winking at Miguel.

    "Oh, really? Like how serious?"

    "Like Miguel here wants to date a ton of women the moment he''s out of this room," Claire says, laughing. "Make up for lost time and opportunity."

    Miguel seconds it. "Yeah, I have to prop back up my reputation, Gab. I gather my street cred has taken a nose dive ever since I slipped into this hospital room."

    "Go get ''em, tiger," Gabriel says, laughing.

    The three of them exchange laughter. It feels good, as they have not had this kind of unburdened banter seemingly for a long while. Gabriel talks about the previous day''s press conference, and how he finally admitted to the world the real score between him and Claire. "Really, you admitted that?" is Miguel''s response, to which Gabriel responds with a more elaborate story, until he comes to the clincher: how Michelle Alcantara pounced on them in the hallway, only for Claire to throw her down the floor like some trash.

    Miguel''s laughter is the loudest; each time he pictures Michelle on the floor with her feet sticking up like some dressed chicken, he explodes in giggling fits.

    Claire watches the brothers make inside jokes that only the two of them know, laughing as though they were kids again, and she could only sigh¡ªhow she wished for this, for the two to get back to where they were before she entered their lives. It''s a beautiful thing to see, really. And she feels utterly proud of how Gabriel recalls what is now known as "The National Confession." Even now she couldn''t believe it actually happened, that those words really came tumbling out of Gabriel''s mouth, recorded on video for posterity, to be told and retold for generations to come. Not to mention that part about Michelle¡ªthey haven''t seen her again, except on TV late last night on an ambush interview. It would be interesting to go back to the office, with her "Bella" persona finally retired, and the real Claire walking the hallways as what she''s supposed to be doing in the first place.

    They''re in this feel-good state when, as if on cue, they hear some kind of disturbance outside. Like a group of people yelling. They exchange a look; Gabriel is particularly mortified, as though he knows what is coming. "I think it''s¡ª" he starts to say, but the door opens and their jaws drop on the floor.

    "So what are you stupid boys up to this time, eh?" Matilde Tan, matriarch of a business empire that spans half the globe, stands by the door like some matron version of a conquistador, her eyes bright with fire. Behind her, Albert the butler stands ready for whatever the matriarch orders, his face deadpan, as always. "Didn''t I tell you I hate seeing your shenanigans on the television? You boys better explain before some aneurysm kills me."

    "I¡­" Gabriel opens his mouth, but Matilde turns and finally sees Claire standing there.

    "Oh, it is you," she mutters, her words dripping with venom. "You, the subject of my son''s embarrassing confession. How dare you¡ª"

    Claire has blanched; she tries to speak, but the only thing she manages is open her mouth.

 Chapter 152 - The Matriarch

    "Mom, what are you doing here?" Gabriel stammers.

    "I should be asking you boys that same question," Matilde says. "What are YOU doing here? And why is Miguel in this hospital room? Oh, wait, I know, because I watched your tearjerker of a confession on the TV."

    "Then why are you still asking those questions? It''s not like my own love life is your business."

    Matilde scoffs; she glances at Claire, who looks like some deer in headlights. "It becomes my business when I see you have chosen poorly. What happened with Michelle? Why did you leave that poor girl?"

    "Didn''t you get the memo, Mom?" Miguel bu??s in, sitting up on the bed. "It was Michelle who left him. She cheated on him."

    Matilde rolls her eyes. "That''s rich coming from the boy who left Michelle ten years ago."

    "That''s not the whole story," Miguel says, his voice quaking. "You should get your facts straight."

    "In any case," Matilde says, as she begins walking around the room, looking around, throwing dagger looks at Claire. "You should get back with Michelle. She''s the only one I like for you. She will be a good match."

    Gabriel laughs derisively. "Oh, no. Not in my life. I''m done with her."

    "What are you talking about?" Matilde points a finger at Claire. "Is this woman so much better than Michelle? How can that be? You only hired her!"

    "That ''woman'' has a name. She''s Claire. And I don''t approve of you disrespecting my fianc¨¦e like that, right in front of me."

    It''s Matilde''s turn to laugh this time. "Oh, my son. My son. Why have you forsaken reason? Are you really that na?ve? What fianc¨¦e? What true love? Have you forgotten that we''ve thrived, succeeded even, because every single thing in the big world out there is for sale? All of it. You''ve only bought her so-called ''love.'' I wasn''t born yesterday. Don''t you dare try to convince me this union is innocent."

    Gabriel says nothing, but it''s obvious he''s gritting his teeth by the way his lips are clenched tightly.

    "Excuse me," Miguel sheepishly says. "But Mom, but really, what are you doing here?"

    Matilde glares at her younger son as though a ???kroach had crawled out of his lips. "Do I need to spell it out for you, Miguel? I''m here because I think both of you have gone nuts. I don''t see the point. I don''t get what you''re seeing in this woman¡ª"

    "Jesus, Mom!" Gabriel says, exasperated. "You talk as if Claire isn''t here. She''s here. She hears you. Will you stop this right now?"

    "No," Matilde says. "I''m here to put an end to all your drama. Since when did you start doing press conferences about your personal life, Gabriel? What''s your precedent for that? Did you ever see me go all emotionally n?k?d in front of the entire world? We never do that. Never. We keep our cards close to our ?h?sts. We keep our enemies guessing. And the fact that you actually did that most execrable thing¡ªthat confession on national TV¡ªit means you two boys have lost your minds. It also proves I can''t really leave you two completely to your own devices."

    Gabriel looks at Claire with that pained face, as though wordlessly trying to apologize for his mother''s behavior.

    Claire gets it. This is the most that Gabriel could do, unless he risks getting the full wrath of his mom, who seems hell-bent on putting Claire what Matilde thinks is Claire''s rightful place: in the dumpster.

    "I''m sorry," Claire finally says, her voice shaking, stifling her tears. "But please excuse me. I''m sorry." Then she half-runs out of the room, leaving the family to their own squabble. She hears Gabriel''s voice as he tries to stop her from leaving, but his mom says something loudly, edged with anger. Claire looks tentatively behind her to see the room''s door stays closed. No Gabriel has come out to stop her.

    Only after "escaping" from the room does Claire finally lets her tears go. There''s a huge lump in her throat and her heart seems to want to explode. A lot of words were exchanged in that room, words she couldn''t even stomach. Matilde spoke about her as though she was a tiny insect, like lint, a mote of dust. Matilde doesn''t see her as a decent person, but as some gold-digger out to vacuum the family''s coffers with her charm. It feels so wrong on so many levels, and her entire being is shaken to the core.

    She''s walking the corridors of the hospital, unmindful of the curious stares of people passing by, like some child crying her eyes out. She couldn''t help it. Matilde lashing out at her like that was completely, absolutely unexpected. She even had high hopes that Gabriel''s mother would somehow like her. That she would understand, knowing how she''d come from rags to riches. As Gabriel told her, Matilde was the family''s "Iron Lady" mainly because of her uncanny business acumen, discipline and determination that helped her transform her little retail business into one of the world''s leading holdings companies. She would have understood. But how mistaken Claire had been¡ªclearly, Gabriel''s mother sees things differently. And it was such a brutal dressing down that for a moment, even Claire doubted her own motivations¡ªwas she really just "hired" to love Gabriel? Are her feelings true or just motivated by money? Can she really look Matilde in the eye and tell her she''s completely mistaken?

    Dean, her ?ssigned chauffeur, sees her emerge from the lobby doors of the hospital and immediately he opens the backseat passenger door for her. She looks confused for a moment, then she says, "I think I''m just taking a walk, Dean. Perhaps you should wait for Gabriel."

    Dean looks at her. She''s obviously not okay. "Is there anything wrong? You''re crying."

    "Oh, this? I just got something in my eye." Claire fake-laughs. "I''m going ahead, Dean. Thank you."

    After what Matilde said in that room, suddenly, all these things that Gabriel had been providing for her¡ªthe car, the penthouse suite, all the privileges she probably doesn''t deserve¡ªfeel like aggravations. That''s why she refused to get in Dean''s car. It''s like her entire being has been dunked in icy cold water. She needs to clear her head. She needs to think straight. And like always, her resort is to take a really, really long walk. So long, in fact, that she intends to reach The Residence entirely by walking alone.

    Many confusing feelings trample the landscape of her heart, as she treads the sidewalks of this vast city. Michelle Alcantara''s insults she could take¡ªshe''s used to bullies like her. But Matilde Tan, the mother of the man you have grown to love so deeply, questioning your loyalty and intentions and your love¡ªthat''s an altogether different level of aggravation. Every word that came out of Matilde''s lips felt like a knife stab in her heart. She wanted to speak up, to deny her accusations, but she was not prepared for the onslaught¡ªin the end, she clammed up, unable to defend herself. Even Gabriel, who''s supposed to defend her, only did so from a losing perspective. Because, after all, how can anyone defend her situation? Because in the end, Matilde was right¡ªless than a month ago, she had gone to the TXCI building for a job interview. She was "hired." She signed a contract. It was all for show, that engagement thing. And she did try to remind Gabriel, as the days wore on, about her "salary" when the thirty days are up. She was just trying to survive, treating Gabriel''s employment as one of those quirky stories she''d tell her grandchildren someday. She stopped herself from having any real feelings for him at the start, because she knew she would be on the losing end¡ªwhy would a man like Gabriel, with all his stature, take a girl like her seriously?

    But then something happened. A little spark, that turned into a smoldering fire. Gabriel turned out to be just another man, after all. And despite all the myths that surrounded him, all the crazy stories about his antics, Gabriel turned out to be a deeply lovable human being. And for that matter, can anyone blame her for returning his love and affection, even if it all happened in a matter of weeks?

    And old-timer like Matilde would easily dismiss the love she has for Gabriel¡ªMatilde would say real love takes time to develop, and relationships founded on the wrong things are completely misguided and would easily crumble at the slightest challenge. And Matilde would be right, except Claire doesn''t feel it at all. The heart wants what it wants. The heart has no set timeline. It falls in love in a hundred years or in a few minutes or in a few weeks. She fell in love with Gabriel a few weeks into their "red contract," the moment he b?r?d his soul to her. Her love is young¡ªbut is it untrue? Was Matilde right in dismissing her as simply being "in it for the money"?

    Oh, how her heart aches. She has been so deep in her reverie as she walks that she didn''t immediately notice that she''s already standing in the empty foyer of The Residence. Dale sees her from the inside, and he immediately runs to open the doors for her, even though it is completely unnecessary.

    "Oh, my God, Miss Claire, did something happen?" Dale''s eyes bulge as he stares at her.

    "I''m fine, Dale," she says, not feeling fine at all. "I just feel a bit unwell."

    "You''re not fine, Miss Claire. I know that face. I know those eyes. And when a woman''s mascara is completely smudged by her tears, then something''s very wrong indeed."

    Claire blinks at what Dale said. Then something happens inside her¡ªa dam caving in. She winces in pain, then throws her arms around Dale, who is so shocked by the gesture, but hugs her back just the same.

    Claire sobs in Dale''s shoulders. "I''m really sorry. I only meant well."

    "What do you mean?" Dale says, utterly confused. Then a streak of realization flashes in his face. "Oh, my God! Did Sir Miguel die???"

    Claire only cries even more. "No, it''s not like that. But¡­But¡­" Then she sobs again.

    Dale is stumped; his limited experience with women is no help at a time like this. Yet, he lets Claire pour out her emotion. Let her cry. When the tears run dry, he will still be there. Until Gabriel arrives.

 Chapter 153 - The Last Soak

    Dale graciously walks with her back to her suite, and even offers to listen to what she has to say. But after all is said and done, Claire realizes what she needs is time alone. Time for herself.

    "Are you sure, Miss Claire?" Dale stands uncertainly by the threshold, waiting on her.

    And yet, she knows there''s nothing that anyone else in the world can do. She can talk to everybody. She can vent out all her feelings. But in the end, there''s only one solution to her woes, and it''s something she doesn''t feel like facing now.

    "Thank you, Dale," she says. "Really. You''ve been nothing but an angel."

    Dale smiles. "Anything for you. Shall I call up Sir Gabriel?"

    Gabriel is currently being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition, Claire wryly thinks. "Gabriel is busy. He will be here when he can."

    "Alright," Dale says. He leaves, but not after reassuring her that he will be there at the Concierge Desk, at her beck and call, regardless of the hour.

    These are the things she will miss, Claire thinks as she closes the door. Not the material things, although she can''t deny that these conveniences¡ªthis lavishly appointed "living quarters," for instance, located at a breathtaking vantage point that overlooks the city¡ªare irresistible, especially for someone like her who grew up without luxury. She only had the b?r? necessities growing up, that was why she had to fight with all her cunning and intellect to finish college, on account of a hard-won full scholarship. The companionship of honest people is what she means¡ªshe''ll miss Dale, Lucille, Miss Cassandra, even Mary at the office. She would miss their warmth and extraordinary receptiveness. They treated her like family, and for someone who lives far away from her real family, that meant the whole world to her.

    But at times she wonders if their niceness is only due to the fact that she''s supposedly the fianc¨¦e of their boss¡ªwould they have treated her with the same grace and niceness if she were an ordinary girl, a lowly employee?

    In any case, regardless of the truth, Claire Monteverde is at a crossroads of her life: face the music, as Gabriel said only a day earlier. Face the music. She never thought she''d be in a situation where that phrase would bear so much weight, so much pain.

    She walks into the rooms of the suite, as if committing even the smallest details to memory. She touches the walls, the exquisite furniture, gazes at the relaxing interplay of dimmable lighting. She used to live in a small apartment with three roomies¡ªall her belongings could fit a single battered suitcase. She mentally takes note of where she''d kept her old suitcase¡ªit must be tucked away in the walk-in wardrobe. She might need it later.

    She enters the bedroom and gazes at the bed for a long time. She imagines those few days when Gabriel stayed here, sleeping beside her. No monkey business, just love and happiness. The memory tugs at her heartstrings¡ªhow could she have known that it would all end so soon. That the dream would simply vanish like a mirage in the desert.

    There''s this unnamable sense of direction that she feels she must take. But for now, her head is just filled with confusion, if that makes sense. As she steps out of the bedroom, she thinks of taking a dip in the jetted tub because why not? Thankfully, the bathroom is newly stocked with all the usual toiletries, including her favorite bubble bath¡ªyou can always rely on Lucille. Oh, she will miss Lucille!

    The view from the jacuzzi was the first thing she enjoyed on her first day here. It was the very first time in her life that she got to enjoy something like it. She would never be able to afford to buy a luxury residential suite like this one, or even rent it for a night. And knowing that this might be her last few moments here, Claire feels the emotional gravity of the moment. She just lets herself sit in the tub, the sufficiently warm water just by her ?h?st, looking at the city''s skyline through the glass wall. And before she notices it, tears stream down her face. She just lets it fall; anyway, no one would see it. Because no matter how much she steels herself, she just can''t bear the thought of losing Gabriel. Is she really losing him? Half of her brain holds onto hope, while the other half bleakly accepts the worst, even trying to move on and imagine a life without him. And yet. No matter how she tries to take this with cold logic, her heart wants to burst. There seems no way she could face Matilde Tan again, after everything that she said about her. She had never had anyone demean and humiliate her like that in her life, and something tells her it wasn''t the worst that Matilde could unleash on her¡ªit felt like it was just an opening salvo. And Claire isn''t sure if she has the liver to endure anymore of that.

    That''s why she had run back to this sanctuary, this little home that in the past few weeks she had grown to love as her home. Yet now, recalling Matilde''s words, even this sanctuary makes her feel inauthentic, like an impostor, a nice thing that she doesn''t deserve. And maybe Matilde was right¡ªshe has no right to enjoy of this. She''s just some social climbing country girl whose only claim to these privileges is Gabriel''s affection. Maybe Gabriel had just been blind. Maybe everything has been nothing but a big misunderstanding. Maybe there has never been love at any point in their all-too-brief relationship.

    Music suddenly starts getting piped in through hidden speakers throughout the suite. Claire thinks it must be Dale¡ªhe knew what she needs the most right now. And yet, the music¡ªa song by Johnny Mathis, "Misty," which happens to be her mom''s favorite¡ªonly made her cry even more. If only she could turn back the time and NOT go to that fateful interview at Gabriel''s office. If only the first company that interviewed her immediately hired her, then she wouldn''t have found herself outside the TXCI building on that morning weeks ago, with her resume in hand. Fate could have spared her all this current sadness.

    But then again, she wouldn''t have met and known the real Gabriel Tan, and somehow, having that intimate knowledge of the man, for some reason, is worth all this pain. Or is it?

    Claire isn''t sure how long she''d been in the tub. At one point, she must have dozed off, like so many times in the past weeks. She dreams of church bells ringing in the distance. The church is on a hill, made bald by the summer, and there are a stream of people walking up the road toward the church. They seem dressed in clothes that don''t belong in the current century. Like she''s in the past, a maiden, wearing her Sunday best, going to hear mass on this much-anticipated day of the week, a Sunday. But something''s wrong¡ªno matter how much she walks toward the general direction of the church on the hill, she couldn''t seem to reach it. She stays rooted on the spot, as though she''s merely walking on an invisible treadmill. And she walks and walks and walks and walks¡ªto no avail. She keeps looking ahead, squinting at the sun, trying to make out the outline of the church. And all she hears is the ringing of the bells¡ªrising to a fever pitch.

    She opens her eyes and realizes immediately that it has been the door buzzing. Someone''s outside. And the way the door keeps buzzing, she could sense the urgency, even desperation, of the person on the other side of it. Claire''s heart jumps¡ªcould it be him?

    She rises from the jetted tub and wraps a towel around her body. For a moment she''s torn between running over to the wardrobe and get dressed first, or just go and see who''s at the door, with nothing but this towel wrapped around her. But the only one who made her scared about walking around half-naked in her suite was Miguel, and that problem seems to be no longer relevant.

    Her wet feet leave damp traces on the carpet. Her heart is pounding in her ?h?st. She doesn''t want to think. But her mind is torn between wanting this to be Gabriel and fearing this to be him, bearing bad news. But she''s already drowning in sorrow, and even a glimpse of him¡ªeven if this would be the last time¡ªwould make her deeply grateful.

    "Who is it?" she asks aloud, not bothering to peer through the keyhole.

    But no answer. Something lodges in her throat¡ªno answer means this is someone else and not him. Instantly a wave of sadness descends on her. If this is not Gabriel, then maybe she has lost him to his mother.

    But the door buzzes again, compelling her to get herself together. She takes a deep breath. She turns the knob.

    The man standing at the door looks every inch like he''d just come home from war. He looks weary, tired to the bone. And yet, as soon as he sees her, his eyes light up, he smiles like a kid who has just opened his gift on Christmas morning.

    It''s Gabriel. And the way he throws his arms around her in a desperate embrace tells her she has no reason to fear. That everything will be alright.

 Chapter 154 - The Grand Plan

    It seems all she''s been doing these past few weeks is cry. It has been an emotional rollercoaster. And yet, each time she does so in Gabriel''s arms, it seems fine; she feels right as rain even if she''s bawling.

    "Stop crying," Gabriel whispers; he flashes a faint smile. "Let''s talk."

    Claire sniffles. She lets Gabriel lead her to a divan, where she could it down in comfort and perhaps be able to take what he''s about to say. There''s something about Gabriel that makes her sense some impending doom¡ªis he going to say that classic, "It''s not you, it''s me" bullshit? Is he going to say, "Maybe we''d need some space apart?"

    "Don''t worry about Mom," Gabriel instead says. "If you haven''t noticed, she''s like a gorilla, all sound and fury signifying nothing. She''s getting old, you know. She gets too touchy at times."

    "Gab," she says. "I think ''touchy'' is an extreme understatement. Did you hear what she said about me?"

    Gabriel winces; yes, he''s heard because his mother was right in his face. "But we''re used to her," he says. "She says shit to us all the time when we were growing up. It''s always part of her sense of self-discipline. You''d never believe the kind of stuff she used to hurl at us whenever we made a mistake."

    "But that''s abusive, isn''t it?"

    "Yes, but¡­" Gabriel shrugs. "It''s impossible for a son to raise his mother. You can''t tell an old dog new tricks, and all that jazz."

    Claire sighs. She has calmed down now a bit, perhaps sensing redemption.

    "I spoke with her," he says. "I mean, we¡ªMiguel and I¡ªspoke with her like we haven''t done in a long time. That''s why it took me so long to get here. I didn''t want to leave the hospital and Miguel with her without managing her expectations, seeing that such expectations were badly managed at all by what she''d seen on the TV. That press conference."

    "What was so wrong about that press conference, Gab? You were just being honest. You were just being the beautiful human being that you are."

    "Well, that''s one way of how the public could see that spectacle. But my mother is not the public. She sees through me. And she thinks I was being misguided." Gabriel sighs. "She doesn''t know you, okay? She doesn''t know who Claire Monteverde is. She doesn''t know why I''ve been so happy with you like I''ve never been in a long time, not even during my years with Michelle. You made me realize what a miserable life I had led when Michelle was with me. And to think she had to be the one to cheat on me. But in hindsight, I could only thank her for that."

    Claire falls silent. She realizes she''s still just wrapped in a towel, which Gabriel seems to also realize at the same time. "I was trying to de-stress," she says. "I had no time to change into a dress."

    "No worries," he flashes a mischievous grin. "I kinda like the idea of you wearing nothing but that."

    Claire rolls her eyes. "Wait here, tiger, I''ll just go change. Before we both get too distracted."

    "I don''t mind distraction," she hears Gabriel say behind her, but she''s already in the walk-in wardrobe. She rummages through the clothes Miss Cassandra has prepared for her for the next two weeks. On a side mental note: she hasn''t seen Miss Cassandra lately, and she never visited Miguel at the hospital. Is she on vacation?

    In the end, Claire chooses the simplest dress, which works even if she walks around b?r?foot.

    Gabriel''s eyes light up upon seeing her. Claire tries to not pay attention to it; her mind and heart are on more pressing concerns. "How do I face her again, Gab? Because I''m not sure if I can¡­"

    "She''s just another human being, Claire," he says. "Don''t look at her as this so and so person who owns businesses and such. Just purely focus on eyes. Try to understand where she''s coming from."

    Easy for you to say, Claire thinks. "But I can''t help it. She reminds me of one of my terror professors back in college. I don''t know if I will be able to say anything that she will not regard as an insult to her stature."

    Gabriel ponders it. "I see. But try to take it easy, Claire. She''s just my mother."

    "Gab," Claire hesitates, fearing the answer would only further send her down the abyss of self-destruction. But she must really know. "Gab, what happened after I left?"

    "How do you mean?"

    "What did you talk about? Did she feel insulted that I walked out of that room? What did she think of me?"

    "I wouldn''t worry about what my mother thinks of you. She thinks ill of everyone. And believe me, she''s used to people walking out on her. My dad walked out on us, remember?"

    "Be serious, Gab."

    "Okay," he sighs. "Yes, I admit, she was irritated when you walked out¡ªyou actually ran away from the place¡ª"

    "Oh, God!" Claire mutters.

    "¡ªbut, as I''ve said, I wouldn''t worry about that. I know my mom. She''s all fireworks, and like fireworks, her feelings burn out so easily."

    Claire blinks. "I don''t know what to feel about that¡­"

    "I''m really sorry for everything she said there, Claire. Miguel and I, we were used to it. We merely let her words enter one ear, and out the other. Didn''t you see we had that half-grin on our face even when she was raining curses on us? But I realize it would be stunningly hurtful to someone else who isn''t her son."

    "That''s about a justifiable way of describing it," she smiles wryly. A pause. "How do I¡­I mean, how do we go from here? What changes? What should I do?"

    "I''m not really sure, to be honest," Gabriel says. "But I''m not worried. She can''t meddle in my life. I''m an ?du?t, for pete''s sakes. We can take this one step at a time. Remember how much Michelle antagonized you? My mom would just be another level of antagonization."

    Where does this end, Claire thinks, feeling the inward collapse of her enthusiasm. It seems at every turn, there''s someone who opposes whatever she had with Gabriel. "Your mom is way different from Michelle, Gab. I can''t throw her on the floor no matter how much she might annoy me. And she''s your mother. I only have the utmost respect for her."

    Gabriel gives her that sticky look. "Yes, because she will be your mother-in-law, and we don''t want to start off with the wrong foot, do we?"

    "My mother-in-l¡ªare you serious?"

    "When did I ever kid about things concerning you, Claire? Of course, I''m serious. If there''s anyone here who''s most desirous of you having a good relationship with my mom, that would be me. But then again, I also know that mothers-in-law can be a very difficult bunch to appease, so I''m always ready to find a compromise." He takes her hand. "As long as we stay together, everything else falls secondary, Claire. I will not be swayed by friends or family from loving you."

    Tears peep in the corners of her eyes. "You don''t know how much what you said means to me. I love you so much, Gab!" She throws her arms around him.

    "I love you so¡ª" Gabriel begins to say, but Claire''s lips are suddenly upon him. Instantly, he sinks in that delightful place of warmth and sweetness, as their lips lock and play and nibble each other.

    Claire is also deep into that kiss. Is this really happening, she wonders, as her eyes are closed, feeling Gabriel''s kiss deep in her soul. In her mind, scenes of the past few weeks flash¡ªGabriel throwing that coffee and smashing it against the wall; Gabriel tossing his white boxers at her, Gabriel slamming facedown into that table in the coffeeshop, Gabriel in the rain, telling her how much he loves her. And as these memories come unbidden during that kiss, her tears begin streaming down her cheeks.

    Gabriel stops as he feels her tears. He touches her chin. "What''s wrong, Claire?"

    "Oh, nothing, nothing," she lies. "I just got a little sentimental, is all."

    Gabriel smiles. "It''s about my mother again, isn??t it?" He kisses her on the forehead. "Tell you what. I have a little plan. I''ll arrange a dinner date tonight with my mother. I''ll¡ª"

    "Gab! I don''t know if I can do that!"

    "Of course, you can! I''ll be there beside you all the way. I''ll hold your hand. I''ll deflect whatever nastiness she hurls our way. The point is, she has to know you. She has to see that this is real. That she can''t stop this."

    Claire says nothing. She looks away. Even now, as they merely talk about it, bu??erflies flutter madly in her stomach. Just the vision of Matilde Tan''s face, scoffing at her, gives her the screaming mimies. And yet. It seems one of those things she must do, regardless of how difficult it might be. "Okay," she mutters.

    "Fantastic!" Gabriel says. "I''m setting it up, then. Tonight. Let''s not waste another day. Where do you want it?"

    "How do you mean?"

    "Which restaurant would you prefer?"

    "Gab, I''m the last person you should ask about fine dining restaurants. I only knew burger and pizza joints before I met you."

    Gabriel laughs. "Did I hear you say Italian fine dining? The Italian it is."

    Claire, despite the overall mood, has to laugh.

    "Now I got to go and double-down on this plan, babe. You relax here," he says, standing up. "I''ll call you up, okay? I''ll update you. I will handle this, don''t worry."

    Claire nods; there''s nothing she can do, anyway.

    At the door, Gabriel kisses her again. "Get some sleep, okay? Or I''ll have the spa come up here to give you some relaxing massage treatment."

    "I''ll be fine, Gab." She tries to smile.

    "Promise?"

    She nods. "I''ll be fine."

    "Attagirl." He gives her a peck on the cheek before he leaves.

    Claire is in the walk-in wardrobe, rummaging through the dresses meant for an evening date, when the door buzzes again. Gabriel must have forgotten something. But what could it be? She still has a couple of dresses in her arms when she opens the door. "Gab, which of these two should I¡ª"

    Claire never finishes her words, because for the second time that day, she comes face to face with the matriarch from hell, who at the moment glares at her and says, "None of those dresses matter. So don''t even bother."

 Chapter 155 - The Obscene Offer

    "I was waiting for my son to leave," Matilde says, stepping into the suite without waiting to be invited. "Because what I intend to tell you isn''t for him to hear."

    "I¡­uhh¡­" Claire stammers. There''s nowhere she can hide this time. She cannot hide behind Gabriel or Miguel; she has to face her. And during these times, for some reason she remembers one little trick she learned when she was in college, being a competitive debater: whenever your nerves get to you, just smile your sweetest smile, and it will help calm you down.

    So Claire, with everything she''s got, smiles to Matilde Tan and offers her a seat. "Would you like some tea, coffee, Ma''am?"

    Matilde stares at her from head to foot. "I see you are well-trained as a secretary," she says, not without condescension.

    I''m not a secretary, Claire''s mind protests. But then again, she was, wasn''t she? She did "play" as the executive ?ssistant, and at least in the first few days of serving in Gabriel''s employ, she was the errand girl. So.

    Matilde walks around the living room, looking around. "Well, this is impressive. At least my son knew how to elevate people of lowly origin to his own level. I ?ssume this was all provided to you, no?"

    "Uhh, y-yes, Ma''am," she says.

    "How generous of my eldest son," Matilde mutters. She stops and looks at Claire. She even smiles. "I apologize for my behavior earlier, Carol¡­"

    "It''s Claire, Ma''am¡ª"

    "Claire. Sure. Claire it is. As I was saying, I apologize. I didn''t know you. In fact, I still don''t. For me, you come across as a highly ambitious young woman who will do anything for a buck. Not that I can''t believe that you''d really fall in love with Gabriel¡ªmy son''s one of this country''s most eligible bachelors, and very handsome, no? So falling in love with him is easy. What I''ve been reacting to, is the unfortunate lack of anything you''re bringing to the table."

    Claire''s brow knits in confusion. "How do you mean?"

    "It''s simple. For me, marriage is all about partnerships, alliances. Call me old-fashioned, but unless you or your family can match my son''s stature, if you have businesses or lands that can somehow offer some benefit to our family, then I don''t think you''re worth marrying. Because you and Gabriel, young lady, is a terribly imbalanced match."

    "But¡­" Claire tries to speak, but she couldn''t find her voice¡ªthere are a million things she wants to say right now, and yet, they''re all trying to come out of her throat at the same time. In the end, all she manages to say is, "Is wealth the only thing you care about?"

    Matilde Tan gazes at her, her face inscrutable. "On the surface, your question seems simple, even perhaps rhetorical. And I''m a bit puzzled¡ªhave the words I''ve just said led you to think I only care about wealth? No, Carol, or Claire, that''s quire a narrow way of looking at it. I care about the future. I care about compatibility. I care about growth. I care about you¡ªwith your upbringing, cultural and personal background, and everything else that makes you YOU¡ªand whether or not you''d be happy with my son, with everything that makes him the person that he is. Between you and Gabriel is a wide, unbridgeable abyss, Carol or Claire. And whatever you think you''re feeling now, whatever d?s?r? you feel in your loins or longing in your heart, that will be nothing once you''re living together and discovering, to your dismay, that you couldn''t stand each other." Matilde sighs. "That, and the fact that you''re not bringing anything to the table. Yours would be a completely asymmetrical partnership, and such partnership rarely lasts. That''s why I am vehemently against it."

    "But that''s just being human, isn''t it? That''s being in love. The heart feels what it feels¡ªit doesn''t calculate the worth of the one being loved." Claire chokes on her tears. "Didn''t you once fall in love, too? Didn''t you come from more humble origins? Gabriel said you used to be very poor. Pardon me for saying this, but you''re not old money. And the fact that you''ve succeeded means anyone can succeed¡ªanyone with the passion and determination to do so. How can you not understand what Gabriel and I have, when you used to be in my shoes a long time ago?"

    Matilde says nothing. Without a word, she walks over to the glass wall; she gazes at the city''s skyline. "Half of these buildings are owned by me. By Tan Holdings. And it wasn''t easy. It didn''t take only passion and determination¡ªit took me unimaginable sacrifices just to succeed." She turns to Claire. "And looking at you, and the way you''re coming into this relationship, I highly doubt you''d have the stomach to do the things I did. You don''t have the proper constitution. When I look at you, I see only a pretty face. You even look pretty when you cry. I can see why my son is so smitten by you. But that''s it. Looks fade. Beauty fades. On this planet, we are so briefly gorgeous¡ªin a few years, your beauty would be nothing but a memory. And when that happens, how can you hold on to your man? How can you stop him from looking elsewhere for younger, fragrant flesh?"

    Claire feels like her knees have turned into rubber. Her hand seeks support on the wall, as she slowly sits down on the divan, trying so hard to stifle her tears. At the back of her mind, she knows the more she cries, the more she appears to be some weakling, like some damsel in distress.

    "I''ve been there and done that and all," Matilde says. "I''m just trying to spare your future feelings. I''m trying to stop your suffering. And I admit, I''m more concerned about my son''s future suffering. He''s infatuated. He cannot see anything beyond what he sees in you. All he sees right now are rainbows and summer mornings. He has no idea what''s in store for you once you continue on this path. How long have you been in a relationship? One month? Two months?"

    "Just a few weeks," Claire sheepishly says.

    "Holy matrimony!" Matilde''s eyes go round. "Jesus henry Christ! And there you''d think you''ve been together for years and I come here as a villain? You kids have no idea. You have no idea, believe me. Gabriel takes after his father. And by that, I mean, he will never settle down. He will always be confused. He doesn''t know what he feels. He only thinks he knows, but he doesn''t."

    Claire has been gazing into Matilde''s eyes for a long moment, watching her lips move, watching the words as they tumble out of Gabriel''s mother''s mouth. She takes a deep breath. "But you can be entirely wrong, Mrs. Tan," she finally mutters. "I''m no bimbo. Gabriel didn''t pick me up on the street. Yes, I was looking for a job, and yes, he hired me to pose as his fianc¨¦e. But I don''t see anything wrong with that. It was play-acting, and it was a job like any other job. It''s a performance art, can''t you see? That we ended up falling in love with each other was unintentional. Maybe it''s fate. But it feels authentic. It feels real. It IS real. Everything you''ve told me, all those words, all those painful ''truths'', don''t you realize you''re merely projecting your own relationship failures on other people, on me, on Gabriel? Can''t you trust us to not mess this up, after all, this is our lives. Only we can make this work."

    Matilde blinks. She just gazes at Claire, like she''s trying to fathom Claire''s deepest intentions.

    "Can''t you give us a chance?" Claire says. "Can''t you give us a shot at our own happiness? You said beauty fades, looks fade. But I believe true love never fades, and it''s what we have. It''s what I have for him. And I believe it''s what he has for me. In the short time we''ve known each other, we already have been through so much that tested our commitment to each other. And I''m ready for more. I''m ready for a lifetime more. Can''t you see? Can''t you feel that? Can''t you see it in my eyes?"

    Matilde sighs. "I realize it''s even more hopeless speaking to you, Carol or Claire. But let me make this so utterly simple. There''s a big world out there. And it''s all for sale¡ªall of it. So let me make this offer, which I think you cannot refuse no matter how you look at it." Matilde flips open her pearl handbag, takes out what looks like a checkbook, signs on a check, and tears it off in a flourish like a woman who has spent her entire life signing checks. She hands it to Claire. "Here. One time offer. And I strongly suggest you take it."

    As if in a trance, Claire holds the check aloft as though she''s holding a highly fragile specimen. On the check is written an ?bs??n? amount of money.

    "That''s ten million dollars. Ten million. Not in this country''s currency, but in American dollars, which you can cash out right now if you''re so inclined. Do you realize what ten million dollars can do in this country? You can buy a palace. You can buy an island. You don''t have to work a single day for the rest of your life."

    Claire finds it hard to wrap her head around this. "But why?"

    "Why? I thought you''re so smart, so don''t play dumb with me, please. Don''t insult me like that. That''s my offer to you. I want you to leave Gabriel and disappear. Go find your own life. I can never let you get serious with my son. I have grand plans for Gabriel. Michelle Alcantara was just what you can call a placeholder. She was only for ''practice''. I have real prospective women for Gabriel, which I''ve chosen for the sake of the future, his future. I will not let a virtually unknown like you to suddenly snatch him away just like that."

    Claire is so stunned. She says nothing. She stares at the check she''s holding with the tips of her fingers. Ten million dollars. And she''s not sure, but she''s both confused and deeply hurt by the sight of this check, by the words she''s hearing coming from Gabriel''s mother. It''s all so confusing and happening so fast that she''s having a hard time to process this emotionally. Matilde is right, if you''d look at this money objectively¡ªten million can change a lot of lives. But for her to even consider to accept this "bribe" for a split second feels like a total betrayal, and it''s something that is never in her heart. She can''t leave gab for money. She''d rather die. She''d rather¡ª

    "Think about it. Deeply. Seriously," Matilde says. "If that''s not enough, tell me. But I''ll leave you to your thoughts. And I need your decision very soon, okay. Carol or Claire?"

    Claire says nothing. She just stares at Matilde''s face, and wonders why Gabriel or Miguel doesn''t resemble their mother at all, not even for a bit. She''s as though a complete stranger, who arrived here to seduce her with this money.

    By the door, Matilde stops and turns to her. "I want you to decide tonight," she says. "And if somehow your decision is the exact opposite of what I want, please know that I have ways and means to compel you. And when I say that, I mean, I won''t be this nice the next time I appear here. So consider that offer an expression of rare generosity, and that you should be grateful." A pause. "You''re welcome." Matilde even smiles.

    When the door closes, Claire gazes at the check she''s holding. Then she rips it into a thousand pieces. She collapses on the floor, weeping; she weeps like a child abandoned. She weeps, mostly because what Matilde has done changes everything. Matilde has crossed the Rubicon, so to speak. And for Claire, this poisonous offer means there''s no turning back.

 Chapter 156 - The Vanishing

    Claire''s world seems to have stopped moving for a long time. She stayed there, on the floor, like how she used to do as a child when she''d gotten home from enduring a day of getting bullied at school. She wasn''t pretty, and yet her strong personality made her the target of resentment of her peers. Now this is a different class of bullying. This is more poisonous.

    Ever since the door closed and Mrs. Matilde Tan left, Claire''s mind is working and calculating, her emotions adding to the maelstrom. The words Matilde told her have made her understand one clear fact: her love is doomed. She loves Gabriel so much, and she''d die for him. And yet, Matilde''s words, no matter how injurious, resonated with some amount of truth: Gabriel and she are so different, and those differences may not be obvious now that their relationship is limited to a few dates and a few hours of spending time together, but what if they''re living together, starting a family? Those differences would get magnified, like what happened in the marriages of people she knows.

    She wants to hope; she wants so much to believe in their future together. But as Claire looks around her, ensconced so conveniently in this lavishly appointed penthouse suite, she feels more and more like an impostor. She deserves none of these, she thinks. She''s still "Jenny from the block," or rather, "Claire from the countryside." She''s not the urban sophisticate that Gabriel, with the help of Miss Cassandra, is trying to make her out to be. She''s just a simple girl, armed with a simple love. And yet, the object of that love is far from simple; Gabriel is probably the most complex person she has ever met, his business responsibilities notwithstanding.

    Claire stands up wearily, as though the weight of the world is on her shoulders. Right now, Gabriel is upon the city, probably looking for his mother, trying to arrange that dinner date with Matilde and her. On the surface, Claire feels like she''s being dragged to whatever event Gabriel wants to have. But if she''s being truthful, she doesn''t want this dinner date; it''s another face-to-face encounter with Matilde. In the short time she has known Gabriel''s mother, she realizes she''s the type of person people emigrate to another country to avoid. She hasn''t heard all the details of why Gabriel''s dad left them, but maybe that''s why; maybe it was because of her mother. Or is she being unfair?

    The dresses she''d been choosing earlier are now sprawled on the floor, unwanted, which is a shame because these are designer clothes, each worth a year of a regular employee''s salary. Out of personal shame, Claire picks up each one and returns them quietly in the wardrobe. She doesn''t feel like doing anything now. It''s as if she''s numb, she feels nothing inside, she looks forward to nothing. She''s standing in the walk-in wardrobe when she notices her old suitcase in a darkened corner, its edge jutting out like it''s always reminding her of its existence. Claire stares at it for a long time: that single battle-worn suitcase contains everything she actually owns, clothes and paraphernalia she had bought with her own money a long time ago. Now it sits there unused ever since she''d set foot in this building. That suitcase represents her, her life, everything that is about her¡ªit''s a memento of her real self. She''s not Bella Xavier or Gabriel''s fianc¨¦e¡ªshe''s just Claire, who had come to this city because she grew up believing that if you studied well and finish college, you could strike it big in the city with a nice employment. Sure, she hit it big. But the dream could only last for so long.

    Then it hits her: why stay?

    Half of her brain answers: you love Gabriel, don''t you?

    But the other half persists: you don''t really know what love is. What you actually know is that Matilde tried to bribe you with a boatload of money just to get rid of you. And if you''d really think about it, it was actually a "nice" gesture¡ªothers would just have her killed, just like in the movies. Matilde could have paid some cheap hitman a few thousand bucks to get rid of her, if she''s truly that evil. But there she was, writing that check for an ?bs??n? amount of money. What did it mean, really? If she talks to Gabriel about his mother, what would be the consequences? Would she be the one to cause a rift between them? Does she have the liver to make Gabriel choose: your mother or me? Has she become that kind of person?

    Claire has been so deep in this train of thought that she didn''t notice that tears were streaming down her cheeks again, that she''s on her knees on the floor, running her hand gently on the contours of her old suitcase, like ??r?ssing an old friend. How convenient¡ªshe could just pick this up, slip into her old sneakers, and go. Just like that.

    Claire stands up and lugs her suitcase out of the wardrobe. She places it quietly in the middle of the living room. Her eye catches sight of the phone, and for a moment she thinks of calling up Gabriel. She could tell him everything, even her own self-doubt, thanks to Matilde''s words. Her heart aches and she feels like drowning. But the more she looks around her, the more she feels like Matilde was right, after all: she deserves none of these.

    She opens her suitcase to see if everything''s still inside as she remembers them. It is. These are mementos from her days staying in that apartment she shared with Karen. These are the truth. This is what she is, no more, no less. She closes it up. She stands there, her mind trying to decide, her heart begging her not to. But she must weigh her options. She must weigh her hopes against her fears. But like Gabriel, maybe she must face the music. And yet, at the back of her mind, in that quiet place where her heart still holds sway, a tiny voice asks her timidly: what if you''re making the biggest mistake of your life?

    She makes a deep breath. With the suitcase in tow, she steps out of the room, probably for the very last time. Maybe she''s doing an utterly foolish thing. Maybe it''s best to let Gabriel know. Speak with him. Plan how they''d manage his mother''s expectations. Plan the future.

    Or maybe not. Maybe that''s the definition of what foolish is.

    Her mind floats elsewhere. She doesn''t even notice that she has been standing by the Concierge, with Dale staring at her face.

    "Are you going somewhere, Miss Claire?" Dale glances at the battered suitcase. "Are you going on a vacation?"

    Claire blinks, as though waking up from a dream. She wipes her tears with the back of a hand and tries to smile. "Oh, no, I''m just¡­I''m leaving, Dale."

    "Oh," Dale says. "Are you going to Sir Gabriel''s place now?"

    She shakes her head sadly.

    "Well, uhh¡­" Dale stares at her, trying to make sense of this spectacle. What in hell is happening? About an hour ago, Mrs. Matilde Tan presumably visited her. Does this have anything to do with Claire''s tears? And what about Miguel? Does Gabriel know this? "Does Gabriel know you''re leaving?" Dale actually says.

    But something wet and sticky ??ps up Claire''s ankle, and she almost jumps in surprise. It''s Sam, her puppy, which had been under the care of The Residence''s staff since Miguel''s accident prevented Claire to personally care for the dog.

    "Hey, Sam, don''t you¡ª" Lucille appears, half-running and carrying a leash.

    But Sam is busy kissing Claire''s face, ??pping up her tears.

    Claire is too emotional to speak. She just lets the puppy kiss her, as though with every kiss, Sam removes a tiny shred of pain from her heart.

    Dale and Lucille exchange looks. Something terrible is up, and they''re not sure what.

    "Are you really serious about leaving, Miss Claire?" Dale says after a long while.

    "Miss Claire is leaving? Where?" Lucille exclaims.

    Claire only nods and takes the puppy in her arms, carrying her like a baby. Quietly, Lucille puts the leash on Sam. They all stand there awkwardly watching Claire cuddle the puppy with tears in her eyes.

    After what seems like a long time, Claire says, "Lucille, do you have a pet carrier for Sam? Something I can put her in?"

    Lucille hesitates; she looks at Dale, who nods. "Yes, Miss Claire. We have it in the office. I can go and get it for you."

    "Please do. Thank you, Lucille."

    "You know you can talk to me, Miss Claire, whatever it is," Dale says as they wait for Lucille to come back.

    Claire merely sighs. Yes, she can talk to him. Yes, she can pour her out and Dale would be the perfect listener, as always. But that solves nothing. What lies before her still is a solid sense of impossibility. Her relationship with Gabriel was good while it lasted¡ªthen she realizes she''s already thinking of Gabriel in the past tense. That sends a pang of pain in her heart.

    Lucille arrives and she quietly lets Sam into the pet carrier. Thankfully, it was small enough, just about the size of the puppy, so that Claire can carry it with her suitcase in tow.

    "I''ll call Dean for you, Miss Claire," Lucille offers.

    "No, thank you, Lucille. I can manage." Claire smiles. She pauses. Then she gives Lucille a warm, tight hug. And Dale, too, who at this point is already sobbing like a child aa the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

    "You''re really leaving us," Dale mutters. "Is this really happening?"

    "Take care of yourselves, Dale, Lucille." Claire takes a deep breath. "If Gabriel shows up, tell him I just went out for a walk. I need some lead time. You will soon understand. Gabriel will soon understand. But for now, I think I need time for myself. So many things have happened in the past few weeks that I feel I cannot go on like this. My heart is too weary, too tired."

    Dale nods. He says nothing. He and Lucille merely watch Claire walk out of the lobby''s doors and into the afternoon sun. They watch as Claire flags down a cab¡ªDean is nowhere in sight and is unable to offer her a ride¡ªand gets inside, with Sam in the pet carrier beside her in the backseat. They see Claire look back at them and wave a hand weakly. Then the cab rolls out into the main avenue, and that''s it: Claire Monteverde is gone, out of their lives. Out of Gabriel''s life?

    As soon as the cab is out of sight, Dale is quickly upon the telephone. He dials Gabriel''s number, his hands trembling. Lucille looks on, understanding what is happening.

    "Sir Gabriel, please answer," Dale mutters to himself as he listens to the phone ring on the other end of the line. "Please answer now, Jesus Mary and Joseph."

    But it only rings and rings, Gabriel not picking up¡ªhe''s probably out and about town, trying to arrange some surprise for tonight''s dinner date.

 Chapter 157 - The Amazing Race

    When finally, Dale gives up trying to reach Gabriel, he puts down the phone quietly, his face white as sheet.

    "Where is Sir Gabriel?" he mutters out loud.

    "I don''t know," Lucille says, surprised. "We''ve never been together."

    Dale gives her a look. "I wasn''t asking you."

    "Then who are you asking? I''m the only person here," Lucille says, then she storms off.

    Has the world gone mad, Dale wonders. He watches Lucille''s figure recede down the corridor. Maybe it''s that time of month when women get a little cranky for seemingly no reason.

    Dale looks around; he glances at the giant wall clock right across the cavernous lobby. The Residence feels so empty now that Claire has left the building; as though it''s darker, gloomier, pointless. How many minutes has Claire been gone? He presumes she''s going to the airport, maybe to try her luck as a chance passenger. If Claire still has family or kin or relatives, maybe she''s going home to them. But the big question is: where? He never got the chance to know here more than what he would have wanted to, so he has no idea where Claire hails from, where her parents are, if she still has any. Something terrible must have happened between her and Gabriel. And Dale knows that if he doesn''t get a hold of Gabriel right at this very minute, then it would be too late.

    He tries the phone again. Three rings. Five, seven. He''s not picking up. Then an idea hits him: what about Mrs. Gomez? Maybe she knows where Gabriel is.

    "I have no idea where Gabriel is," Mrs. Gomez says as soon as she picks up the phone. "What a minute, why are you asking me? Why not ask Claire, for pete''s sakes!"

    Dale pauses. "But she''s gone, ma''am."

    "How in hell do you mean ''she''s gone''?"

    "She''s gone. She left. With her old suitcase. I think something happened."

    "How do you mean something happened? Didn''t Gabriel visit her? Weren''t they together just this morning? Did they have one of those fights???

    "I really don''t know, Ma''am," Dale is on the verge of crying, feeling like the subject in a Spanish Inquisition. "Claire wouldn''t say anything. She just took the dog with her."

    "What dog?"

    Mrs. Gomez doesn''t know about Sam, Dale quickly realizes. "Sorry, never mind that. But that''s it. That''s why I''ve been trying to reach Gabriel and¡ª"

    "Wait. Did Gabriel''s mother speak with Claire? Did she visit her there?"

    "Uhh, y-yes. But what is the¡ª"

    "Matilde Tan visited Claire in the penthouse suite?"

    "Yes, Ma''am, that''s right."

    "Jesus," Mrs. Gomez mutters. She has connected the dots. She has known Matilde for years, and she knows what the woman can do, especially to people she doesn''t like. Matilde knows the most painful bu??ons to push; she''d strike where it hurts most, and leave without much of an evidence to prove it. "Continue calling up Gabriel''s number. Try the hospital. I''ll call his personal mobile."

    Dale blows a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Ma''am."

    "When did you say Claire left the building?"

    "About half an hour ago, Ma''am," Dale says.

    Half an hour ago¡ªthat truth flashes in Mrs. Gomez''s brain as she speed-dials Gabriel''s personal number¡ªthe number that can be called only by a few designated people, and only during the most critical times. Thankfully, Gabriel picks up on the second ring. "Where are you, Sir?"

    "I''m here. I''ve just arrived," Gabriel says, sounding like he''d been catching his breath.

    "At The Residence. What''s the matter?"

    At that moment, Dale also sees Gabriel walk into the lobby, his phone to his ear, confusion crumpling his face. He runs to him, but Gabriel holds up a finger, signaling for him to wait. "What do you mean Claire''s gone?" Slowly, Gabriel''s gaze turns to Dale. "Dale? What in hell is Mrs. Gomez saying about Claire? What happened?"

    "It''s uhh, Claire, sir," Dale stammers, trying to keep his nerves calm, but failing spectacularly. "She left. She took the dog. With her suitcase."

    Gabriel makes a tiny nervous laugh. "She just probably went out shopping. Don''t be silly."

    "But Sir, she was in tears."

    Gabriel''s brow furrows. "What happened? I just left here hours ago, and we were fine. She was fine."

    "I don''t know, sir."

    Gabriel stares at Dale''s face, trying to fathom the truth, because really, this is all so confusing. "Let''s check her room. Maybe she left a little message. Shall we?"

    Dale trails behind him as Gabriel bounds toward the elevator. Gabriel tries to appear cool, while Dale keeps glancing at him nervously.

    "Something else on your mind, Dale?"

    "It''s just¡­It''s just I think we''re probably running out of time."

    "Out of time for what, Dale? Relax. I''m sure Claire just took a walk with the dog or something."

    Dale gulps down; there seems nothing he could do to convince him. While Gabriel looks at him askance.

    When they get into Claire''s suite, nothing out or the ordinary greets them. Everything seems normal. Gabriel looks around; she must have left some note or letter. They go to the kitchen to see if she''d tacked something on the fridge. Nothing. They check the bedroom, and other rooms in the suite. Nothing. Gabriel looks into the wardrobe and realizes Claire''s old suitcase is gone. What Gabriel has been trying to dismiss earlier¡ªthat growing sense of inexplicable loss¡ªis becoming a banshee scream at the back of his mind by now, and he couldn''t hide it from Dale, anymore. "Something''s wrong," he mutters.

    I''ve been trying to tell you so, is what Dale wants to say to his face. Yet, he responds with silence. He stares at the floor. That''s when Dale notices those little pieces of paper scattered on the carpet. He kneels down to pick up the pieces, examining it against the ambient light. "It''s some kind of a check, Sir."

    Gabriel gathers the pieces of torn paper on his palm. It looks familiar because he uses and signs the same kind of checkbook almost every day. One particularly larger piece gets his attention: it''s a part of the check''s signature line. The highly slanted name scribbled on it is unmistakable: Matilde Tan.

    Gabriel gazes wildly around him. The walls around seems to close in on him. Seeing the torn check, suddenly the entire universe seems to have imploded into a single, heartbreaking truth: his mother got to her while he was gone. And whatever his mom told Claire, it must be the reason why she left in tears.

    "Where did she say she was going?"

    "I don''t know, Sir. But maybe, if I may hazard a guess, the airport?"

    "Jesus," is all Gabriel manages to say. He bolts out the door so quickly, crossing the space in big strides, and is gone before Dale could take another breath.

    Inside Gabriel''s head now is a raging storm, and mentally he''s trying to calm himself down. He tries to focus on the single most pressing task: run after Claire before he loses her to God-knows-where. He knows how Claire can be extremely emotional. Emotional? That''s too rich coming from you, says a tiny voice from the back of his head. He ignores it. He slips into his car waiting right out front of The Residence¡ªan Aston Martin DBS, the same car Daniel Craig used in one of his early James Bond movies¡ªand quickly guns it, all the while thinking was it just coincidence that of the dozens of cars in his private garage, he''d chosen this super-fast one? Maybe he was fated to run after Claire¡ªwhether or not he gets to her on time is yet to be seen.

    He floors it, the car''s powerful engine making itself known to everyone else on the road that day. Yet Gabriel cares not for them all¡ªthe airport, that''s the destination. Probably domestic flights, as Claire has no business to fly international. He wonders, too, if she has money. And more and more, Gabriel finds himself worrying about the mundane details: maybe they''d not allow Sam the puppy on board because the dog had no medical or health clearance for transport. And that would further break her heart and drive her over the edge. "Where are you going, Claire, my love?" Gabriel mutters to himself, as the world behind him melts into a blur. He realizes, too, that he had taken knowing Claire for granted¡ªhe''d presumed that Claire would always be there, that things would go on a natural progression between them. That''s why even now, he doesn''t know where Claire hails from, where her parents live, the names of her parents, even the names of the schools she had graduated from. And realizing all of this gives Gabriel a terrible, sinking feeling: you''re an idiot, Gab. A first-class idiot who takes everything for freaking granted. So now what?

    Now, reach the damn airport. And for some reason, road traffic seems to be giving him a break that day¡ªthe traffic is light, and intersections are largely clear. His car zooms past trucks and buses in what looks like the kind of driving with a death wish. He doesn''t care, anymore. He''s dying to see her, to talk some sense into her, to reassure her Matilde Tan is, despite being his mother, nothing but a gadfly to the life he''s planned for them. Matilde will buzz around them, annoy them, antagonize the hell out of them, but will do no damage. Because he''s no longer a child, which is a fact his mother refuses to acknowledge. He will love and marry whoever he chooses.

    Gabriel almost jumps out of the Aston Martin as soon as the car slips into the parking slot nearest the airport''s main entrance. He runs straight to the counter for domestic flights, asking the personnel there if they''d taken a passenger named Claire Monteverde, and thereby ruffling the feathers of quite a number of tired travelers. When he gets nothing useful from the first counter he''d asked, he runs toward the security turnstile, scanning the faces of the crowd, looking for the girl with the dog and a battle-worn suitcase. But Claire seems nowhere. Desperate, Gabriel takes out his phone and calls up a friend, the head of the airport''s management, who quickly reassures him he''ll send a battalion of personal to quickly search for Claire. "We''ll find her even if she''s already in one of these planes."

    Yet, Gabriel refuses to be reassured. He keeps walking among the crowd, combing the lines of people, looking for the girl with the saddest eyes, holding a very confused puppy, in the middle of all this madness.

    Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Claire''s cab arrives at the drop-off area of one of the city''s bus terminals. She pays the driver and tells him to keep the change. The driver is only too glad to help her with her single suitcase and dog. She steps out into the dying light of the afternoon, and looks behind her, at the long road she''d come from. Somehow, despite her outward bravado, Claire Monteverde is still hoping that Gabriel would suddenly materialize out of nowhere, holds her in his arms, and rescues her from herself.

 Chapter 158 - The Swarm

    This is the same bus terminal that served as her entry into the city a few months ago. She had come straight here after graduation, with her suitcase crammed with printed out resumes and her heart brimming with hope. Now it seems ironic that she''s back here, going home to her parents, seemingly in defeat. And all along her mind asks her: What are you doing?

    She boards the first bus that she sees, dragging her suitcase in one hand and carrying Sam in the other. She finds an available two-seat section in the middle, which is convenient. She carefully places Sam''s pet carrier in the seat next to the window, then she tries to cram the suitcase in the overhead compartment. All the other passengers are gazing at her with curiosity, for what reason she doesn''t know.

    She takes her seat. Sam whimpers. "Take it easy," she whispers to her. "We''ll get you something to eat in the first stop." Then she looks around; the bus is still half-full, and if its business is to have every single seat occupied before it could leave, and judging by the trickle of arriving passengers, then maybe they''re going to stay here for an hour or so. She sighs¡ªthat''s too long a time to be left alone with her thoughts.

    She thinks of him. Gabriel must have learned about her leaving by now. Her entire being wants to go back, but the thought of Matilde¡ªalways that woman, always with the sharp knife-stabs of her words¡ªgets in the way and Claire''s resolve melts. Seeing Matilde''s face in her mind transports Claire to the future, an ugly future, one in which even the love between her and Gabriel seems a tiny bud against a raging storm.

    "Do you have a companion, miss?"

    It''s the inspector, pointing at the pet carrier beside her. Sam is hidden by the towel she used to cover the carrier to help the dog calm down.

    "It''s just me," she says."

    "Are you paying for that?"

    Claire nods.

    The inspector, a tall, lanky man with an improbable ultra-black hair, looks at the towel-covered cage with suspicion. "What''s in that?"

    "Uhh," Claire says, trying to decide whether to tell the truth or not. "It''s a small puppy."

    "Jesus," the inspector''s eyes get round. "We can''t have it in here! It''s against regulations! We could get impounded."

    The inspector''s voice is too high-pitched that most of the other passengers begin gawking at them, expecting some entertaining spectacle.

    "But I will pay for her," Claire protests. She pauses. "I will pay for three seats, actually."

    The inspector grimaces and scratches his head; he looks in the general direction of the bus driver, who''s currently in the driver''s seat listening to Peter, Paul and Mary sing "For Lovin'' Me." "You don''t understand, miss," he says. "The fine we''d have to pay if, for example, we get caught by a traffic inspector, is worth more than this entire busload of people."

    "Oh," she mutters. She mentally calculates how much she might pay for a busload of people, and immediately she realizes it''s not possible.

    Then somebody from the back yells, "That''s bullshit!"

    The inspector blinks. "Excuse me?"

    "That''s bullshit," the voice repeats, which turns out to come from an old lady in the seat three rows behind Claire''s. "There''s no such regulation, young man. You only don''t want the dog in here because you''re afraid the dog would take a dump while in transit, fouling this entire airconditioned bus with the smell of the dog''s half-decomposed breakfast."

    The inspector gazes at her for a minute, then he relaxes, and holds his arms in the air in a gesture of surrender. "Thank you, ma''am. You had me. You''re right. That''s the truth. We can''t have a dog in here because dogs are easily frightened and stressed and when they''re stressed, they pee and poop and what have you."

    "But," Claire says, "I promise you she will behave." She removes the towel covering the carrier. "Look at her. Can''t you see she''s so nice? She doesn''t even bark¡ª"

    Sam barks at the inspector, and claws playfully at the walls of her cage.

    "That means ''hi'' and not an actual bark," Claire says. She smiles, even though her eyes are still ringed with tears. "Please, sir, she''s not going to poop here, I promise. Please?"

    The inspector gazes at Claire for a long moment; he sees as if for the first time the kind of beauty she is. What did his old man used to say about pretty girls? Like bu??erflies, they don''t need excuses. He gazes at Claire''s smile, and quietly wishes that he were younger, unmarried, and as handsome as that guy on TV the other day, that Gabriel Tan. Then he would have¡ªwhat a minute. Something clicks in the inspector''s brain as he gazes closely at Claire''s face. "You look eerily familiar, like I''ve recently seen you somewhere¡­"

    Claire holds her breath, unsure of what to do. And yet, she just smiles, trying to win him over with her charm, if that could still work. "Maybe you''ve seen me. I used to ride this bus when I was¡­"

    "Holy shit, you''re THAT girl!" The woman seated across from her suddenly jumps up, gazing at Claire with amazement. "You''re the girlfriend! The fianc¨¦e!"

    The inspector''s gaze pingpongs from the woman to Claire then back to the woman. "What do you mean?"

    "Haven''t you seen the news on TV? She that rich guy''s girlfriend! The other day! Then she threw the guy''s bitchy ex-girlfriend down the floor like a bowling ball!"

    A collective sigh of amazement throughout the bus. Everyone''s standing up now, trying to get a clear view of the "celebrity."

    "I''m not what you say I am," Claire protests. "I''m just a nobody with a dog, so please let me¡ª"

    "Claire! You''re Claire! You''re Gabriel Tan''s fianc¨¦e!" a girl with braces chirps like a true fan girl. Then to prove her point, she holds up a copy of the morning''s newspaper. On the front page, there''s a photo of Gabriel and Claire being hobbled by reporters. "Oh, my God! My friends are not going to believe me!"

    "Please! I''m not¡ª"

    But Claire''s voice is drowned out by the growing excitement of everyone on that bus. Even the inspector, who moments before was just all business, has been staring at Claire as though he''s seeing the gates of heaven part. "It''s really you, isn''t it?" he mutters. Then he looks around, as though looking for something. He takes out a pen from his backpocket and offers it to Claire. "Miss, I would die happy if you would only sign your name on my person."

    "What?"

    "Just, you know, an autograph. You can sign on my uniform here."

    Claire holds the pen dumbly, unsure of what to do. All around her, the previously sane passengers of the bus have morphed into bleating, screaming, desperate "fans" fighting for the precious space by Claire''s seat. It''s like she''s suddenly surrounded by zombies who are all clawing at her flesh, desperate for a piece of her. If only Claire could sink in her seat and disappear forever.

    "Me, too!" says one. "Please sign on my shirt!"

    "Fall in line," says another. "I''m nearer her. I call dibs. I''m next to the inspector."

    "Ladies'' first, you arseholes!" says another. "I was the one who first recognized who she is!"

    And on and on they go, fighting and fighting for the privilege to get in there, until Claire feels it''s too much that she just wants to scream¡­

    Everyone turns their heads toward the back of the bus. It''s the old lady from earlier, the one who called bullshit on the inspector. And now she''s standing up¡ªan old little lady with a perm and thick-rimmed eyeglasses¡ªand in her raspy, cigarette-grated voice says, "Leave her alone! Are you all blind? Can''t you see she''s all stressed out because of you? Is this your first time to encounter an actual human being, you imbeciles!"

    Everyone falls silent. The cramped crowd standing on the aisle parts like the Red Sea, allowing the old lady to hobble toward Claire. She has a problem with her right foot, as she walks with a slight limp that she tries to hide by scoffing and glaring at the people around her.

    She stops right by Claire''s seat. She stares at her, gazing closely at her face. "How are you dear," she says, her voice surprisingly pleasant, yet still hoarse.

    "I''m¡­I''m fine, Grandma," Claire says.

    The crowd give out another collective sigh of surprise. "Oh my God! Are you her real grandmother? What an amazing coincidence!" one of them exclaims.

    The old lady barks at them. "You are really Grade A morons. She calls me grandma out of politeness because I''m a generic old woman, and not her actual grandmother! Why are all the idiots of this world decide to be this bus''s passengers?" Then to Claire: "Don''t mind them, young lady."

    The old lady takes one look at Claire''s face and instantly she knows. She touches Claire gently on the chin in a gesture of empathy. "I don''t know if you''re really who they say you are, but I don''t care. I''m past all that bullshit. But there''s one thing I''m sure of. You''ve been crying. You look like you''re trying to run away from something. I''ve seen you the moment you arrived with the saddest face I''ve seen in years. And here I am, talking as an old woman who have seen all her sons go before their time." She smiles at her. "What''s the matter, dear?"

    Claire chokes on her tears. It''s been a long time since last someone spoke with her like that, as though the old lady knows her, knows her soul. "Nothing, Grandma," she says, sobbing.

    The crowd watching this is shocked to see Claire cry. "What''s the matter?" somebody behind asks. "Did he hurt you?"

    "Is this about Gabriel Tan?" somebody else yells.

    "Shut up!" the old lady says. She holds Claire''s arm and squeezes it. "Are you sure about what you''re trying to do? I don''t really know your situation. But let me tell you something, dear. Sometimes, the monsters that frighten us are just sad, unloved little beings on the inside, and they only need somebody to show them what really matters in this world."

    All heads turn to the old lady, awaiting with bated breath his next word.

    "Love," the old lady says. "Only love. So you''ve gotta ask yourself: do you or do you not love him? Because if you do, then no monster, no matter how big, can stand in the face of that love."

    Claire stares at the old lady''s eyes, feeling in her heart every single word of what she just said. Tears have begun to flow down her cheeks, and she''s not afraid or ashamed anymore to b?r? her heart to those around her. And for some reason, the crowd has fallen silent, too; some of them sniffle, some weep.

    "I do love him," Claire mutters. "I love him more than my life. But his mother, she said¡­"

    "Bullshit," the old lady says. "What she said was bullshit. And you know what you do with bullshit? You flush it down the toilet." She smiles, baring her gold teeth.

    Claire smiles and laughs despite her tears. She stands up finally and throws her arms around the old lady; she''s surprised how fragile the old lady''s body feels in her arms, as though she''s nothing but bones.

    "Thank you so much, Grandma," Claire mutters. "But who are you? Why do you know these things?"

    "I''m nobody," the old lady smiles. "Don''t bother yourself with me. You have an important thing to do, don''t you?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "What do you mean by ''what do you mean''? Of course, you have to go back to him and show that mother of his what kind of golden, sunshiny stuff you are made of." She turns to the crowd: "Isn''t that right, kids?"

    "Yes, go back to him!" the crowd cheers in unison. "Go back and slay! Be fierce, Claire!"

    Claire giggles. What in hell is happening? It''s as if everything is surreal. Is this really happening? Is she really here right now?

    "Go back! Go back! Go back!" the crowd is chanting, like cheerleaders.

    Claire giggles; she wipes her tears like a child, smiling. She declares, "Alright! I''ll go back to him!"

    The bus crowd go crazy in excitement, cheering her on. As though this were the grand finals of some basketball game, and the star player has just made the winning shot.

    "Good evening, ladies and gents," blares a voice on the bus''s speakers. "This is your heartbreakingly handsome driver informing you that we''re leaving in a moment. Please go back to your seats and stop all that nonsense, will you?"

    Somebody blew a raspberry, but still, the crowd obediently go back to their respective seats. The old lady taps Claire on the shoulder and whispers, "You know what to do."

    "Thank you," Claire says.

    The inspector is left standing by her, smiling. "Well, I guess I have an idea. If you don''t mind?"

    "If it''s about me going back to him, I''m open to ideas," Claire says, smiling now.

    "Where do you think you''ll find Gabriel Tan right at this very moment?"

    Claire pauses. At this hour, maybe Gabriel is back at The Residence, waiting for her. She''s not sure, but it''s worth a try. "Do you know where The Residence is?"

    "You mean the former hotel? Sure. This bus will be passing by it in about fifteen minutes," the inspector says, beaming. "What do you say about we dropping you off at The Residence, tell your lucky boyfriend how much you love him, so we can all have a happy ending?"

    Claire giggles. "As long as you let Sam go with me, I say, that''s a fine suggestion you have there."

    The inspector laughs. "The Residence it is, then. But may I ask you one last favor?"

    "I''m all ears," she says.

    The inspector looks around. Then he removes his shirt. "If you''ll be so kind as to write your name on my shirt here, I would be extremely delighted."

 Chapter 159 - The Stop-over

    The bus stops right across the road from The Residence. The inspector ?ssists Claire as she alights, carefully bringing down her one-piece luggage. And of course, Sam in her cage, too.

    "I guess that''s it, Miss Claire," the inspector says sheepishly. On his shirt is scribbled Claire''s dedication, done in felt-tipped marker.

    "Thank you so much," Claire says, giving him a hug. She looks up; all the other passengers are on the windows, waving at her. She waves back, her eyes looking for the old woman, the one to whom she owes an enormous debt of gratitude. But she''s nowhere; either she could not get to the window or she''s not bothering to look.

    Claire watches the bus continue on its way, its hulky figure growing smaller in the distance. She gazes across the street; The Residence seems fine, as though nothing has changed. Because why not? It has only been a few hours since she "left," for pete''s sakes!

    She cautiously crosses the street, Sam in one arm, and tugging at the suitcase with the other. Before she could even touch the lobby''s doors, it swings open, and out comes Dale, his face the face of delighted surprise.

    "Miss Claire, you''re back!" Dale throws his arms around her, forgetting propriety.

    Sam barks from within the cage. "She wants you to know she''s back, too," Claire says, laughing. She puts the cage down ad opens the door; Sam leaps out happily and runs around the cavernous lobby. She makes a turn into a corridor and is gone in an instant. "She''s probably looking for Lucille." She looks around; the place seems deserted. "Where''s everybody?"

    Dale looks uneasy. He shrugs. "Everyone''s in the back-of-house," he says. "We thought you were really leaving for good, so we realized we''re probably losing our jobs, soon. So we were having some discussions about what to do next, you know. I only came out to get some of my notes and¡­"

    "I''m sorry," she says. "I''m sorry for causing all this trouble."

    Dale makes a weak smile. "So are you back for good, or did you just forget something?"

    She sighs. "It all depends on him."

    "Gabriel?"

    "Yes," she says. "I really must talk to him. I shouldn''t have left things hanging like that. I should''ve¡ª"

    "But he was looking for you!" Dale looks panicked. "Didn''t you come from the airport? You didn''t see him there?"

    "The airport? I didn''t go to the airport!" Claire is exasperated. "Why would I go to the airport?"

    "Uhhh, because you were leaving and going somewhere¡­"

    "I was at the bus terminal, Dale. I would not be able to afford a plane ticket."

    "But there are a dozen bus terminals throughout the city."

    "Yeah," she agrees. "But only one airport. So¡­"

    "He''s still there," Dale says. "He will wait for you. He won''t leave that place unless he knows you''re really, really not there."

    "Jesus," Claire mutters, looking at the wall clock. "How long has he been gone?"

    Dale shrugs. "Maybe a couple of hours, give or take."

    "I must find him," Claire says. Then without further ado, she runs out into the road.

    Dale scratches his head. What''s wrong with this couple? They are always looking or running after each other. When can they ever meet and settle down and just enjoy each other''s company, perhaps forever?

    "Oh, well," Dale mutters to himself as he walks back to the back-of-house area, where his colleagues must still be talking about the future, and how they''d face the uncertainty of joblessness. He''d be happy to tell them there''s no longer any reason to be afraid, that Claire''s back, and so is the long-term outlook of their tenure. But at this point, Dale knows the sheer unpredictability of this union¡ªhow at any moment, Claire could change her mind, or something unexpected happens, and something worse would descend on their lives. So he will withhold that news of Claire being back for good, at least for the time being.

    Meanwhile, once Claire is out on the street, she immediately catches sight of Dean, having a smoke by the Bentley at the end of the driveway. She hesitates for a moment, wondering if she still has command of him. Why not make a stab at it? She waves a hand. Dean has already seen her, and is half-running toward her.

    "Miss Claire!" The happiness on Dean''s face is unmistakable. "My God, I''ve never been so happy to see you back!"

    Claire doesn''t know what to say, she so just smiles.

    "You''re looking for Gabriel?" Dean says.

    "Yes! Have you seen him?"

    "I know where he has gone to," Dean says. "So let''s go and make a run for it."

    "Thank you so much, Dean!" she manages to say, even as they run toward the car.

    But Dean stops before he opens the car''s door. "But Miss Claire, please promise me one thing."

    Claire stops, too.

    "Please don''t leave Gabriel like that. No matter what happens, no matter what you fight over, please talk to him before you make that kind of decision?"

    "I''m sorry," Claire says, almost teary-eyed. "I promise."

    Dean gazes at her for a moment. He smiles. "Thank you, Miss Claire." He opens the door for her and ushers her inside. "Reconciliation with Gabriel is going to happen in about T minus ten minutes," he says before he snappily closes the door.

    Claire smiles despite herself; only now she realizes how much havoc she has caused by running away like that. She''s in a different league now, in a different world; a month ago, when she was still living in the apartment and just looking for a job, she could disappear and nobody would notice; maybe her parents back home would get to know about it only weeks later. But here, now, she disappears for a few hours and other people''s lives go in disarray, their employment put at risk. And slowly, the gravity of being with Gabriel sinks in¡ªthis is what it means for being with a captain of industry.

    The Bentley is backing out of the driveway when Claire taps Dean on the shoulder.

    "Dean, can I ask you something? I''d appreciate it if you could give me an honest answer."

    Dean looks at her in the rear-view mirror. He smiles. "Sure, Ma''am."

    "What would you do if you were in my position?"

 Chapter 160 - The Airport

    The Bentley is fast running on the main road, and other drivers would be completely focused on the driving, their eye and attention never straying from the road ahead. But not Dean; he''s been driving through these roads, in Gabriel''s super-fast cars, that the driving feels like muscle memory, fully automatic, as though he could close his eyes and drive and still reach the destination unharmed. But of course, he wouldn''t do that with such a precious cargo on board.

    And that precious cargo''s question holds fully his attention.

    "What would you do if you were in my position?"

    "How do you mean, Ma''am?" Because, truly, he must clarify. Claire Monteverde''s position in the universe he lives in is never a singular, simple thing; it is, in fact, one of the most subtly layered positions he has ever encountered.

    "My love for Gabriel," she says, looking out the window with the saddest eyes. "Sometimes, I don''t know what to do. I run from one confusion to another."

    Dean smiles. "I''m a simple fellow, Miss Claire. I don''t let myself confused by all the details. If it were me, I''d just follow my heart."

    Follow your heart. The words reverberate in Claire''s mind. Those are almost the same words the old woman on the bus had told her. Not too long ago, she also had a simple belief about love and life: follow your heart. But these days, actual events seem to shake her out of the purity of that simple truth.

    "Thank you, Dean," she mutters. "I needed that."

    "I''ve been through a lot, Ma''am," he says. "And always, I keep my eyes on the prize. You''ll be surprised to see how simple things truly are when you start ignoring all the bullshit."

    "Yeah," she says, thinking about Gabriel''s mom. Even the memory of Matilde''s face as she made that ?bs??n? offer back at the penthouse suite makes Claire''s heart jump.

    "Miss Claire," Dean says, as the car enters the long driveway into the airport complex. "It is possible that Gabriel is no longer here. But¡ª"

    "But it''s still worth checking out," Claire says.

    Dean agrees. "You''ve got that right, Ma''am."

    The Bentley deftly eases into a parking slot a few meters away from the main entrance. Dean jumps out to open the door for her. By now it is already early evening, and the airport''s front grounds is awash with yellow floodlight.

    Claire stands in the middle of a stream of people coming and going, uncertain of where to go next.

    "I can go with you, Ma''am, if you like," Dean says, standing beside her like some dashing bodyguard. "An extra pair of eyes could be a good help."

    "Please, Dean," she says. "Thank you."

    There are so many people in the main lobby. The waiting areas are swarming with people who mostly look tired and bored and irritable. "It seems some flights have been delayed," Dean says, gazing at the huge information screen on the wall. "These people have been waiting for their plane for hours."

    "Oh," she says. She has never travelled by plane before; always, she used the bus. Or the ferry boat. She realizes now that no matter the mode of transport, there will always be these execrable problems.

    The whole mess of people starts making her feel like she''s never going to find him in this place. Would Gabriel even have the smallest patience to stay in such a crowded place as this?

    "If you were Gab and you''re looking for someone who might have just bought a ticket," she sidles up to Dean, "where would you go?"

    "Hmmm." Dean looks around. "Maybe I''d ask the airline counters." He gestures toward the long counter, where every airline in existence holds court.

    Claire blinks; it is such a formidable sight. Where does she even start?

    "What if at this moment, Gab decides to leave and drive home?"

    "Oh, shoot, the exit!" Dean''s face lights up. "Should I watch the exit, Ma''am?"

    Claire hesitates; at this point, the possibilities seem to drown her. She couldn''t decide which definite course to take. "Do you think it''s wise?"

    Dean shrugs. "I''m not sure, but you know that feeling, Ma''am? When you''re facing a multitude of choices and you''re paralyzed from having to choose? At least we have to make one choice. I can watch the exit in the off-chance that he might be thinking of leaving. I could easily spot him even in a crowd like this."

    But is it the wisest choice? Claire wonders. She looks around; maybe time is running out. Maybe they should just go home and wait for gab to show up. But then again if that happens, so goes the impact of her remorse¡ªGabriel would think and feel that she doesn''t take him seriously. Like she doesn''t care. Oh God, if only she can see him now.

    "Okay, Dean, you can watch the exit."

    "Right away, Ma''am! Dean disappears, leaving her in the middle of that ocean of people.

    If you were Gabriel, how would you search for someone in an airport?

    Then the memory of Gabriel''s past exploits flashes in her head: how he had always used his clout, his influence, to demolish obstacles in his way, or to make things easier, especially in desperate moments.

    If you were Gabriel, Claire thinks, I''d start from the top to mobilize the bottom¡ªI''d talk to the boss, the manager of this airport. That is, if Gabriel Tan''s connections reached this far.

    That doesn''t seem to solve anything. She doesn''t have a social media account; she doesn''t have pictures online. Gabriel doesn''t even have photos of her in his phone. Theirs is a relationship that has yet to find its calm moments; moment when they could kick back and relax and take wacky selfies together. Even if Gabriel speaks to the airport manager, and said airport manager commands his people to watch out for her, how would they know how she looked like?

    Of course, Claire, in her quiet desperation, her rising panic, has forgotten about the fact that her photos were on the frontpages of magazines and newspapers just yesterday. Even now the media has not finished feasting on her. Airport personnel could use that; heck, the people on the bus recognized her easily.

    And yet, Claire''s thoughts are elsewhere. She tries to imagine being in Gabriel''s shoes. She imagines what if it''s the other way around¡ªwhat if it were Gabriel who had tried to leave without saying goodbye, and it was her in this airport, blindly combing the crowd, looking for him? What would she feel? How would she do it?

    Slowly, the impact of that realization hits her: she sobs quietly. She would be deeply hurt if Gabriel left without saying goodbye. The mere thought of never being able to see him is too hard to bear. Now if Gabriel is in this place, fully believing that he might never see her again, he would be saddled with grief.

    Now she realizes the magnitude of the pain Gabriel might be feeling right now; he would be inconsolable. He would be the saddest person in this entire airport.

    The saddest person. And as if on cue, her vision catches that figure sitting alone on a bench by a column, his back to her. His back is hunched, his shoulders drooping, but she couldn''t be wrong. It must be him. And the moment Claire decides that is must be him, everything else disappears and all she could see is that man sitting alone on that bench¡ªthe saddest man in this place, bearing on his shoulders some unimaginable grief.

 Chapter 161 - The Search

    At one point, Gabriel feels a pang of grief, of surrender. His own brain keeps slamming him with blame and questions: for instance, why didn''t Claire ever properly use some modern means of communication, like a damned mobile phone? Why didn''t he immediately replace the broken iPhone? What was up with that? Why didn''t he know where Claire''s hometown is? Why didn''t he know even the names of her parents, of her brothers and sisters, if she has any? It''s as if he''d only met Claire yesterday with all these unknowns in her life, and it hardly seems fair¡ªhas he been so preoccupied with himself that he forgot to ask these personal questions, get to know her better?

    He slumps on the bench and tries to accept the fact that whatever his mom told Claire, it must have been utterly painful, or shameful, or both. He wants to confront Matilde, unleash his fury, but he knows Matilde would only use the "I''m old, sick, and dying" card on him, and that would shut him up, stop all his outrage in its tracks.

    He looks at his phone; nobody has texted or tried to call him in the past few hours. The emptiness of his inbox makes him feel as though the whole world has abandoned him, as though everyone left along with her.

    Jesus. And to think the day had started out alright.

    He''ll find her eventually, he knows. He''ll use all his resources to find her. This country, even this planet, isn''t big enough for her to vanish just like that. But what really hurts him more is the fact that his family had hurt her, had treated her like dirt. His mom more so. Why does this have to be such an uphill battle? Why?

    "It''s only a matter of time, Mr. Tan," a voice says.

    Gabriel looks up to see a gray-haired man in a snappy suit standing before him. The man smiles.

    "And you are?"

    "Oh," the man laughs, embarrassed. "I''m the general manager of this airport. You called me up a while ago."

    "Oh, sorry," Gabriel stands up, shakes the man''s hand. He''s red in the face; the truth is, the people he knows are acquaintances he''d met only once or twice, and he''s bad with recalling faces. "Sorry I didn''t recognize you¡­." Sneakily, he glances at his phone''s screen to check the man''s name. "¡­Clark. Must be the new uniform. Or the hair¡­.You look ten years younger."

    Clark nods appreciatively. He understands the blunder, of course; he''s only too aware of how forgettable his face is. Even his wife would miss identifying him in a police lineup. Or so he thinks. He gestures with his arm. "I have dispatched my people across the airport. Are you sure there''s no other means we could reach her? A phone, perhaps?"

    "She''s not¡­she''s not a huge fan of mobile phones."

    "Oh," Clark merely says. "But surely, the description and name should appear immediately in our records. If she bought a ticket here, especially if she''s a chance passenger, it should be easy."

    "And?"

    "Well, my men are still checking. Should be long, though." Then Clark stops talking; his mouth hangs open, as he stares at something behind Gabriel. "Uhh, but I think our search if about to conclude, Mr. Tan." Clark''s voice trails off.

    "Really? Did you find her?"

    "No, but I think she found you."

    "What do you¡­" Gabriel''s brow knits in confusion; he follows Clark''s line of sight, turning behind him.

    There are few other instances in Gabriel Tan''s life that can be compared to the life-changing impact of this particular moment: when he first saw Michelle Alcantara years ago, back when Michelle seemed a v?r??n who had descended from heaven; when he pulled out Lucille from a wreckage in her hometown during an ocular inspection of one of his company''s facilities, and how surprised he was that Lucille, who was a child then, was miraculously unscathed while all the other passengers were dead; when Claire Monteverde walked in through his office''s doors almost a month ago¡­And now, this. This vision.

    Claire runs toward him. And recalling all the magic movie moments he has seen in his life, Gabriel Tan runs toward her, too, meeting her halfway, letting her throw her arms around him, her face in his ?h?st, sobbing like a child who had been lost and is now found.

    The world stands still. All the questions in his head, all of them has been stilled. Claire''s here; she''s back, and nothing else matters at this moment. He breathes in the scent of her hair, the feel of her, the fragile, luscious, precious shape of her, and Gabriel closes his eyes and wishes for time to stop. For every heart ache to go away. For things to be a lot simpler: just her and him, in a world where there are no complications. Where he''s not the businessman with a gazillion worries and an overbearing mother who still wants to make decisions on his behalf; where she''s not the girl with a million worries and a ton of confusion in her heart.

    "Where have you been?" he asks, finally.

    She looks up and meets his gaze. She tries to open her mouth, to explain what she did, because after all, he did ask. But in a split second he changes his mind and lovingly touches a finger on her lips. "Ssshh. Forget that I asked. It doesn''t matter."

    Claire''s eyes brim with tears, glistening with meaning. But her lips. Her lips¡­

    Clark noisily clears his throat. "Uhh. Am I correct to ?ssume that the woman you''re looking for has been found, Mr. Tan?"

    Clark''s voice yank both of them from the moment.

    "Uhh, ye-yes, Clark. I think we''re fine." He turns to her. "Claire, honey, he''s the head of this airport''s management. He was helping me find you here."

    Claire nods toward Clark and smiles sheepishly, a look of embarrassment on her face. "But I was never here."

    "How do you mean?"

    "I was¡­ I intended to take a bus. I was at the north bus terminal. I was never in this airport."

    "Then why are you¡ª"

    "Dale told me. And Dean."

    "Oh," is the only thing Gabriel manages to say.

    "All''s well that ends well," Clark says, laughing now. Although he wasn''t really responsible for actually finding Claire, he counts this reconciliation as his own success as this happened right under the roof of his airport. "If there''s anything else I can do for you, Mr. Tan, I''d be happy to lend a hand."

    "Thank you, Clark, but I think we''re fine. Thank you so much," Gabriel says. Then he thinks up of something, as he glances at him with his head tilted. It is a small, but important "eureka!" moment. "But Clark, while we''re here, may I ask one last favor?"

    "Sure," Clark says. "Anything."

    "Can you help us secure first class tickets for two?" Gabriel says, turning to Claire. "We''re leaving town."

 Chapter 162 - The Escape

    "What do you mean?" Claire says, unsure if she''s heard it correctly.

    "We''re leaving," he says, squeezing his hand. "We''re getting away from all this muck."

    "Are you being serious, Gab? Like, we''re leaving now?"

    "Of course, I''m serious! I''ve never been this serious in my life."

    "But what about¡­everything?"

    He shrugs. "I''m tired. I''m tried of trying to balance everything in my life. I''ve never had a day for myself. I''ve never had a day with you alone. Now, we''re going to a place where they won''t find us."

    "But what about your employees? All those people who depend on you?"

    "Don''t worry," Gabriel smiles. "I''ll just send Mrs. Gomez a single line of text. And it would all be fine."

    At this point, Clark returns excitedly. "May I ask where you''d want to go?"

    "Well¡­" Gabriel turns to Claire. "Where were you supposed to go this afternoon?"

    "Home," she says.

    "And where is that?"

    Claire tells him. Gabriel then turns to Clark, "There you have it. First class tickets to that destination, please."

    Clark smiles and makes a slight bow. "Right away."

    "Are we sure about this? I don''t have any clothes with me. Everything is back at my place."

    "Aren''t you even excited?" There''s a mad gleam in Gabriel''s eyes. "New slate. And I''m excited to meet your old folks. And¡­

    "And my younger sister. She''d be excited to meet you."

    Gabriel stops. "You have a sister?"

    "Yes! And she''s much cuter than me. So I''ll have my eye on you, Gabriel Tan. Don''t even dare."

    Gabriel laughs. "I only have eyes and heart for the big sister."

    "I wonder how my mother would react to you," Claire says. "I had never brought anyone home to meet her."

    "Not even once?"

    "Not even once."

    "I must be extremely lucky, then."

    She smiles. Then her face scrunches up as she remembers something. "Wait, I totally forgot about Dean!"

    "Dean drove you?"

    "Yeah, and he''s been watching out for you at the entrance. Can you call him up?"

    "I don''t have Dean''s number on this phone," Gabriel says, thumbing on his iPhone. "So maybe that''s why he didn''t call me up on the way here. Forgot to bring my public phone." He slips his phone into his pocket. "Wait for me here. I''ll personally go and tell him. I owe him a lot for you, you know."

    "Okay," she says.

    She lovingly watches him slip through the crowd. Her heart pounds in her ?h?st; she doesn''t know exactly what she feels, but all her feelings are good feelings. She couldn''t even describe how excited she is. Is she even awake? Or is this one of those dreams?

    "Miss Claire, here are the two tickets," Clark says as he suddenly appears. His face is filmed with sweat, as though he had wrestled with someone just to finish his task.

    "Are you alright, Clark?"

    "I''m fine," Clark says, smiling. "I just had to argue with someone over those tickets. But it has all been settled. No worries."

    Claire gazes at the tickets in her hand, feeling the surreality of it. Tickets back home, with the man of her dreams. "I don''t know how to pay for this."

    Clark laughs. "Oh no, everything''s settled, as I said. Mr. Tan''s company has a corporate account with one of our major airlines. It''s all fine." He looks around. "I don''t think I can wait for Mr. Tan. Duty calls. Can you tell him my regards. Tell him it has been a p???sur?."

    "I surely will," she says. "Thank you so much!"

    "Enjoy the journey," Clark says. He leaves.

    Once again, Claire looks at the tickets. She has never held a pair of airline tickets in her life, much less first-class ones. "This is my very first time," she mutters to herself.

    "Your first time for what?" A voice says. It''s Gabriel, back from his errand.

    "First time to fly," she says, smiling. "How''s Dean?"

    "He''s over the moon with happiness," he says. "He''s driving back to The Residence and wishes us a memorable journey."

    "I should have spoken to him, too. I owe him one."

    "There would be lots of time for that, in the future," he says. He smiles. "But for now, our first travel together! I see you have the tickets."

    "Yeah. Clark had to go. He says it was his utmost p???sur? to be of service."

    "Clark''s a good man," Gabriel says. He looks up at the information screen. "I believe it''s boarding time, Claire. Let''s go?"

    "Okay," she says. She smiles. "This is it!"

    "Yes, this is it," Gabriel says.

    As they walk toward the queue for outbound passengers, with nothing but the clothes on their back and a hope for something better, Gabriel takes out his phone and taps a quick message. "It''s for Mrs. Gomez," he says to Claire''s inquiring look. "I''m giving her control."

    Meanwhile, at her home, Mrs. Gomez is stabbing at her TV dinner, a sad affair of ersatz tomato sauce, synthetic cheese, and soggy pasta, which the manufacturer had dared to label as "authentic Italian lasagna." Her husband is out fetching her a tub of Ben & Jerry''s Rocky Road at the corner grocer, which is what she feels she needs to cap this rather long and tiring day. Matilde Tan was such an energy-draining presence in the office¡ªMrs. Gomez hopes Matilde suddenly decides to not spend time anymore digging up the company''s paper trail, because after all, what does she expect to find? Everything''s in order. It''s not like her own son, Gabriel, would do something irregular in his own business.

    On the TV, Humphrey Bogart says to Ingrid Bergman''s character in the movie, ''Casablanca,'' "Here''s looking at you, kid." Mrs. Gomez smiles as she holds her fork aloft; she''s always loved this particular scene in the movie. Brings back a lot of memories.

    Suddenly, her phone beeps. She looks at it with suspicion¡ªshe''s not expecting anything, except maybe her husband is at the grocery store trying to decide which Ben & Jerry''s flavor could be a worthy replacement to Rocky Road.

    She picks it up and sighs, already bracing up for disappointment¡ªher heart is already set on Rocky Road, though. But she finds it''s from Gabriel. Her brow furrows¡ªwhat could this be?

    "Why not?" Gabriel''s text message simply reads.

    Mrs. Gomez gazes at her phone''s screen for a long moment, wondering if this is it. This is one of Gabriel''s coded messages, the most important, yet this could also be a mistake. Maybe he''s drunk. You have a mother like Matilde Tan, you''d always get drunk.

    She reads it again. "Why not?" Gabriel had texted. And there''s only one way to be sure they''re both on the same page as far as the message''s meaning is concerned.

    So Mrs. Gomez texts back the only agreed-upon response she knows, "OH. Wow."

    Then she waits. If Gabriel responds with their agreed upon "code," then it''s going to be an incredibly busy day tomorrow¡ªfor her, at least.

    Her phone beeps again. The sound almost makes her jump. She takes a deep breath for a moment, bracing herself for what she might read on the phone. She taps it and looks at the message.

    It reads, "Let''s roll."

    "Jesus," Mrs. Gomez mutters. "He''s really going away. Matilde Tan would not be amused."

    Mrs. Gomez stares at the dark for a few moments. Slowly, she smiles. "Good for you, Mr. Tan," she says, shaking her head. "Good for you."

 Chapter 163 - The First Class

    Not in a million years did Claire ever expect to experience something like this. First time flying as a passenger is one thing, but flying first class in an airline that''s rated to be the world''s most luxurious is entirely another level of first.

    "My hometown is just a few hours'' away, Gab," she whispers to him as an attendant obsequiously ushers them to a different entrance, past the path used by regular passengers. "Isn''t this too extravagant?"

    "Extravagant? I don''t know that word," Gabriel says. He grins. "This is our first trip together. I want it to be memorable."

    There''s only a small handful of passengers who proceed to the upper deck of the plane, the "first class" section. Claire didn''t know what to expect. Of course, she''s not entirely ignorant; she knows there would be seats. She remembers how just hours previously, she was onboard a provincial bus. "Can I have a window seat?" She whispers again, too embarrassed to let the flight attendant hear her. but she must have heard Claire, if that slight smile is any indication.

    Gabriel laughs and gives her a peck on the cheek. "Claire, my love, every seat is a window seat. Look!"

    Claire stops. Indeed, the cabin is spacious.

    "Let me show you to your suites," the attendant says, almost in sing-song, as she leads them inside. They don''t have to walk very long¡ªas it turns out, Claire and Gabriel''s "suites" are the first one in front.

    Claire peers inside her suite; her jaw drops. "Is this really for passengers? This looks like a family could live here."

    Gabriel laughs. He chuckles as he examines his own suite right opposite Claire''s. He looks at it askance, then looks back at Claire, who is closely examining every knick-knack in her suite, much to the amusement of the attendant.

    "You know what," he says. "I think we can sit together in your suite." Then he turns to the attendant. "Your finest refreshments, please, for the lady. And champagne for me."

    ??Right away, Mr. Tan," the attendant makes a slight bow and leaves.

    Claire is trying out her seat. "This chair feels really good. Like I think I can fall asleep right now."

    There''s a "buddy seat" in a corner opposite Claire''s, and Gabriel plunks himself in it. "Is sleep the foremost thing in your mind right now?"

    Claire looks at him. "Not really. We have a lot to talk about. First is, why are we doing this?"

    "Don''t you think it''s high time?" He sighs and looks out the window, where he could see the tarmac strewn with lights. The nose of the plane glistens from the wash of light, and the engines begin to whirr, although they could b?r?ly be aware of it. "You know, when I was going out of my mind looking for you, I realize I didn''t really know you. We didn''t really know each other. I didn''t know the names of your parents, or every single one of the people you love. I''d like to know them all, Claire. I''d like to get to know you more, away from the distractions of my own life."

    Claire chokes on her emotions upon hearing those words, but she keeps it inside; she smiles, although her eyes betray her. "Thank you. I thought you''d never ask."

    Gabriel gazes at her for a moment. "I''m sorry. I was just too stupid. I had been stupid for a long time, Claire. Forgive me if I''m only starting to wake up now. After all those things that happened to us."

    "I''m stupid, too, if it''s any consolation," she says. They both laugh. "I don''t know what I was thinking, walking away like that. Not telling you anything. I''m sorry. I won''t let something like that happen again. From now on, before I make any drastic decision, I will always, always consider your feelings. I can''t believe¡­"

    "I can understand it if it had anything to do with my mother," Gabriel says, carefully avoiding to mention that thing about the cheque torn in shreds back in her penthouse suite.

    "Yeah, that," she says, nevertheless catching on. "Your mom, Gab. Can you believe she offered me ten million dollars?"

    "What?" Gabriel says in mock surprise. "That''s a lot of money! You should have accepted it!"

    "Yeah, I thought so, too," she purrs. "But then again, I thought if I marry you, I''d get a lot more, no?" She teases.

    "Clever girl," Gabriel laughs.

    She laughs, too, in that cute way that she does only rarely, only in times of genuine happiness.

    The attendant arrives with a trolley of beverages. She carefully places a tall glass of fresh, pureed fruit before Claire, then she hands Gabriel his champagne.

    "What''s the menu for this flight?" Gabriel asks. Then shakes his head. "No, forget it. Bring everything here." He gazes at Claire with meaning. "We''re both famished, you see. We really could appreciate some first-class grub."

    "Sure, Mr. Tan. I''ll be back in a moment."

    "You''re right. I''m really hungry," Claire says after the attendant leaves. "I haven''t had anything since morning."

    "That''s because this is one of those days," he says, "when terrible shit happens along with utterly wonderful stuff. This suite is spacious enough. Maybe I''ll stay here and not occupy my suite at all. I don''t want to be lonely."

    "You can stay here as much as you want, Mr. Tan," Claire says playfully. She moves to show him there''s still space in her comfy chair. "Please sit here. Don''t be shy."

    Gabriel laughs. "Shy is the utmost opposite of what I am," he says. He eagerly squeezes himself into the small space so much that Claire shrieks, giggling like a child. Then he puts his arm over her shoulder tenderly, and that does it. She tops and looks at him for a moment. She closes her eyes. Gabriel gets it; he kisses her on the lips. A sweet and gentle kiss. A prelude to even sweeter things.

    As the plane starts to move, and a voice on the loudspeaker reminds passengers to fasten their seatbelts, et cetera, Claire gazes out the window. "What awaits us, Gab? What''s waiting for us when this plane lands?"

    "I don''t know, Claire," he says. "But something tells me in my guts that we''re going to be fine. That everything will be alright."

    She smiles. She rests her head on his ?h?st. He lovingly ??r?sses her hair, thinking about how, just an hour ago, when he thought he had lost her forever, too sick of the complications in his life, he was already thinking about turning his back on it all, going back to his place, taking out the revolver in his cute little vault, and shooting himself in the mouth. Just to end it all.

    Thank God she returned; thank God he''d found her. Just when he needed her the most.

    "Everything''s going to be fine, Claire," he whispers to her. "I''m sure of it."

 Chapter 164 - The Limo Journey

    "The thing about first class," Gabriel says, as though patiently explain the rules of the universe to a child. "Is that they treat you like royalty. For example, that limousine over there¡ª" he points to a black, elegant-looking vehicle, right outside the lobby''s doors, where a serious-looking man in a black suit stands by¡ª"will bring us to your parents'' house''s very doorstep."

    "Really?" Claire feels it must be too extravagant; she begins to worry about what her parents would feel about this. She hasn''t warned them that she''s coming home; right now, all they know is that their dear old Claire is still in the big city, working her cute ?ss off in one of those office buildings.

    "It''s actually the safest means of transport, Claire. We''ll just tell our guy our destination, and he''d drive us no matter the distance."

    Claire looks at Gab with her head tilted. "But you''re used to all this. Why do you sound like it''s your first time?"

    Gabriel laughs. "Because it''s your first, and I just feel so excited for you."

    Claire giggles. She takes his hand. They''re such an odd-looking couple, walking without care in the world, completely sans luggage.

    The chauffeur already knows it''s them as they approach him. "How''s the trip, Mr. Tan, Miss Monteverde?"

    "Splendid," Gabriel says. "Couldn''t be better."

    The chauffeur snappily opens the door for them.

    Claire eases into the luxurious backseat, looking around. There are a number of tiny bottles of what look like miniature liquor. "Can we drink those?"

    "Yes and no," Gabriel says. "Yes, we can. But no, we shouldn''t. We''re meeting your parents in about an hour, right? We don''t want to make a bad impression to my future in-laws."

    Upon hearing what Gabriel just said, Claire feels like her heart just jumped, like it''s the sweetest thing in the world, what she just heard. Yet, she doesn''t let him know that; she just smiles and squeezes his hand, a subtle way to let him know how much his words mean to her.

    "Where to, sir?" the chauffeur asks as he takes the driver''s seat.

    Gabriel looks at Claire, who gets it. She tells the chauffeur the destination.

    The chauffeur''s face furrows upon hearing the address. "Hmmm. Isn''t that the hilly region almost at the boundary to the next province? There''s nothing but farmlands there."

    "It''s not just farm and animals there, Mister. I grew up there. My parents tend the land."

    "Oh, sorry, madam," the chauffeur stammers. "Not meaning to offend. Merely trying to be clear about the destination. Frankly, this is the first time I''m driving this limousine to that region, although the truth is, I also grew up near there. In a farmland. Pardon the misunderstanding."

    "Pardon granted," Claire smiles.

    Gabriel laughs at this exchange. "Interesting," he says. "This just excites me more."

    And so their limousine journey begins. And it''s never boring, as it turns out. At each milestone they pass by, Claire points at it and tells Gabriel a cute little backstory, something that had anything to do with her and her childhood. There''s the old public marketplace, now largely abandoned, where Claire and her mother used to buy freshly gathered honey from the surrounding bee farms usually a week before Christmas, which her mother would use in making her famous gingerbread. There''s the old school building, where Claire attended primary school, and Ground Zero of many of her earliest heartaches, usually in the form of schoolyard bullying. "One of my classmates used to tease me that I looked like a clown."

    "A clown? Maybe the world''s loveliest clown, was what he meant."

    She shrugs. "I was ugly, was his point. I looked funny. But strangely, when we grew up, he sent me a couple of love letters in high school."

    "Poetic justice, then," he says, "but only if you rejected him." He grins.

    "Of course, not!" she shrieks, giggling. "But what''s even weirder was he turned out to be gay. As in, he liked other boys. Last I heard, he''s working as a local gay stand-up comedian in some city in Thailand."

    "Really?" Gabriel shakes his head. "That guy''s life must be a hell of a journey."

    Then they pass by another milestone or local landmark, and Claire''s stories continue. And to these delightful revelations, Gabriel laughs and nods and tries to remember every single thing. This is the point of this journey, to get to know her much better, and so far, it has been grand. Everything just feels oh so right.

    What had been presumed to be a short-ish trip turned out to last much longer than anticipated. They must have been traversing country roads for more than an hour now, and the vistas seen outside the limousine''s windows have been one stretch of farmland after another. Even Gabriel has fallen deep in thought as he gazed outside; he remembers the early years when their business empire was still nascent, when he''d accompany his mother to these far-away places to establish partnerships with crop farmers for the first few food manufacturing plants they''d established. It was truly hard work, and the people he''d met in those years are still the people he trusts even now. People like Dean and Mrs. Gomez.

    He turns to her and discovers she had fallen asleep, her head on his shoulder. Walking down memory lane must have exhausted the poor princess, he thinks. He gazes at her, at the fine contours of her face, and the sight still takes her breath away. He wonders if Claire even has an angle that isn''t pretty¡ªit seems however which way he looks at her, he likes¡ªnay, loves¡ªwhat he sees. Or maybe it''s only love?

    "Uhh, Sir," the chauffeur clears his throat. "I''d just like to let you know we''re already in the general area of the destination. But it seems the houses here don''t have exact addresses. So maybe if Miss Monteverde could point me to the exact place¡­"

    "Claire?" he taps her gently to wake her up. "Claire, I think we???re almost there."

    Claire rouses. She looks around, seemingly disoriented. Then her face lights up. "Oh, my God! We''re here!"

    "You mean, we''re here? At your place?"

    "No, I mean, we''re only about three towns away from our house."

    "Three towns?" Gabriel turns to the driver. "Count three more towns, Mr. Chauffeur."

    "Three more towns?" the chauffeur repeats, as though disbelieving. "I''m not even sure where one town ends and another one begins. There are no clear markers, Sir." The limo hits a bump as the road becomes rougher and rougher. "And it seems we''re almost at the end of the world, Madam.

    "That''s about right," Claire laughs. "Because that''s where I grew up. Near the end of the world."

    Gabriel gazes at her with that amused look on his face.

 Chapter 166 - The Meeting with the Parents

    The house is cozy, every corner obviously lovingly tended. And although it''s far from the luxury Gabriel has grown accustomed to, there''s something about it that makes him feel so at home. He stands in the living room, gazing at old family pictures. There''s a picture of Claire and her sister wearing school uniforms in primary school, smiling widely. Didn''t Claire say she was an "ugly duckling," that people teased her for looking like a clown? Gabriel''s gazing at a childhood picture of Claire and he couldn''t see what in hell was that "ugly duckling" narrative was about¡ªbecause here, smiling back at him from maybe a decade past, is a very cute, incredibly adorable girl who seemed to be the happiest child in the world. Her sister, Mariya, is cute, too¡ªgood looks obviously runs in the family, and he could see that both her parents contributed to that beauty.

    And there''s something about the way Carol, Claire''s mom, moves in the kitchen, quickly preparing something for them to eat¡ªCarol reminds him of how Claire, some days ago, before Miguel''s accident, deftly prepared a dish called "eggs benedict" for him. "This was a recipe from my mom," Claire had said. Now he''s seeing her mom in action, and it''s fascinating.

    But there''s only one problem in the middle of all this idyllic picture: Claire''s dad, David, couldn''t stop from sniffling. He''s actually sobbing now, mumbling all his heartaches.

    "I can''t believe you''ll get married without telling us," he sobs. "Claire, did we ever let you down?"

    "Dad," Claire says, glancing at Gabriel for support. "We''re not yet married. I told you that three times already. We''re here so he can get to know more about you."

    "What? You''re living together and not yet married? What would the whole town say?"

    "But we''re not¡ª"

    "We''re not living together, uhh, Dad," Gabriel says. "We''re just engaged. We haven''t talked about getting married, but if it were up to me, I''d like it to happen soon."

    Claire looks at Gabriel¡ªthere''s something about the way Gab said ''Dad'' that felt wonderful. As though feathers were tickling her heart.

    "Engaged? Same difference. When did you meet, anyway?"

    "Uhh, l-last month," Claire stammers.

    "Last month? Are you serious? And when did you decide to get engaged with each other? Yesterday?"

    "Actually it was a couple of weeks ago, Gabriel says sheepishly. "I think."

    David rolls his eyes in that old peculiar way. "Carol, did you hear that? Did you hear what your daughter has gotten herself into? They met just last month! And now they want to get married."

    "I heard that," Claire''s mom says from the kitchen. "But so what? Your daughter''s old enough to make decisions for her own life."

    "What do you mean ''so what''? Your daughter''s still a child, for crying out loud!"

    Carol appears at the entrance to the kitchen, her hands on her h?ps. "David, stop being so melodramatic. And what are you saying that she''s too young? Have you forgotten how old I was when I met you? I was seventeen, David. You were thirty-two. You were older by fifteen years. But did that stop us?"

    "Well, I¡­" David stammers, throwing Gabriel an uneasy glance. "But this is different. Kids these days¡­"

    "--Know what they want, just like kids of our generation," his wife says. "Sorry, Claire. You know how your dad can get a bit cranky at times. And dinner will take only a few more minutes."

    "It''s fine, Mom," Claire says. "Where''s Mariya?"

    "Asleep," Carol says. "Had a long, tiring day. We had a lot of work at the farm and your sister did tons of tasks. If she didn''t wake up even with Max barking like that, then she really needed that sleep."

    "How''s the preparation for her eighteenth birthday?" Claire asks.

    "It''s been going well. She''s pretty nervous. You know how your sister hates becoming the center of attention. She''s worse than you in the awkwardness department. Begged me to just do it quietly, just a simple celebration. But your dad here won''t have any of it, insists that his youngest ''princess'' deserves all the attention she can get on her eighteenth."

    "Did you know that when I first met your mom, she was seventeen?" Claire''s dad says.

    "Yes, Dad, Mom just said so a while ago." Claire smiles.

    "Did you know she had a reputation as the town''s ''playgirl''?" her dad says.

    Carol rolls her eyes and disappears back into her kitchen.

    "Yes, Dad, you''ve told us so a million times," Claire says, throwing Gabriel a look that says, "here goes the narrative of our lives."

    "She had a string of boyfriends. She even had two boyfriends at once. She knew she was pretty, so she took advantage of the opposite s?x like no other girl could," David says, smiling at the memory. "But her wiliness was no match to my dashing debonair of a personality."

    Claire grins sheepishly. Gabriel says, "Claire once said that you were the one who ''tamed'' her mom."

    "Well, I''m not sure, but when I came into her life, the table seemed to have turned. She became the obsessed one. Yes, she was seventeen then, and I was much older. And when you looked at us walking downtown, you''d think I was the ''chaser''. But I was cool. I love her more than my life, but I was always level-headed, maybe because I was older and I looked at the relationship from eyes tempered by experience."

    Gabriel nods and winks at Claire.

    "And I''m telling you this not because I''m boasting. I''m saying love is like wine¡ªyou need a little more experience, a little more time to achieve the right taste. You need more time together before you could even know if you could spend the rest of your lives with this person. That''s why I''m panicking. You met a month ago. Then you got engaged. Everything points to a future heartbreak, not that I''m trying to rain on your parade or just taking the pessimistic route or trying to scare away my beloved daughter from what she maybe thinks is the best thing that ever happened to her."

    Claire and Gabriel stay silent as they listen to her father''s words. Something about what he said resonated with both of them. For Claire, her father''s spot-on¡ªeverything''s happening so quickly. Proof of that has been her own erratic decision-making. And as for future heartaches, she remembers Matilde, who had showered her with almost the same sentiments. More and more, people around them, loved ones at that, seem to compel them to rethink what they feel about each other.

    As for Gabriel, David''s words made him understand how Claire seems to be flighty. Yes, time and experience, which are luxuries their young relationship doesn''t have yet. But truth be told, Gabriel still feels his heart is in the right place; time and experience will come later. What matters now is to prove to her and to her parents that he''s willing to sacrifice everything just to be with her.

    The silence is cut when Carol reappears, removing her apron with a sweet smile on her face. "Maybe you guys can talk about that over dinner. Come on while it''s hot and piping."

    Gabriel is impressed; preparing dinner didn''t take Claire''s mom more than thirty minutes, he reckons. Claire cooks well because of her¡ªnow his curiosity is piqued. If beauty and excellent cooking skills really run in the family, then more and more, he realizes he must have been extremely lucky to have met somebody like her. Because this is what he wants, what he has always wanted¡ªhe''s tired of having chefs in his employ cook well-presented food for him. He doesn''t care if it''s Wolfgang Puck or Gordon Ramsay who cooks for him; what he d?s?r?s is the warmth of home, the love of a wife.

    Claire takes him by the hand. "Prepare to be amazed," she says, smiling.

    And indeed, she isn''t overselling her mom''s cooking prowess. When they enter the dining room, what greet them on the modest table are some of the most impressive-looking home-cooked dishes he''s ever seen. And it smells amazing.

    Gabriel actually says, "This is amazing, Ma''am. You did this all in so short a time?"

    Carol shrugs. "Oh, it''s nothing. I just cook from the heart, so everything feels like second nature."

    Gabriel is speechless; and even as he sits down with Claire and partakes of the first morsels of Carol''s food, words remain elusive. For his palate at that moment, even Wolfgang Puck couldn''t hold a candle to Claire''s mom''s cooking.

    And that''s just for starters.

 Chapter 168 - The First Night

    "It''s not much, but it''s comfortable," Claire says as she stands by the door of Gabriel''s temporary room. It is spartan and neat, by all means, but so far from the luxury Gabriel is used to.

    He shrugs. "Don''t worry, this is perfect. I''m out in the country, I''ve met your family. What can I ask for?"

    "I can''t sleep here with you, you know. My parents would freak out. It''s not like we''re already married and¡­"

    "That''s fine. We''ve never slept together, anyway. If you know what I mean," he says.

    Claire laughs. "Someday we''ll come to that. Maybe soon."

    Gabriel smiles at looks at her. "I look forward to that."

    "So¡­goodnight, then?"

    "Good¡ª"

    Claire gives him a kiss on the lips so fast that it''s over before he realizes it.

    "See you tomorrow," she says, walking away, toward her own room.

    "Okay," he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else.

    This is wonderful, Gabriel thinks. The bed is a simple wooden bed, with a soft but not luxuriously soft mattress. Sure, it''s far from the Sealy mattress he used to enjoy, but there''s something about the simplicity, the no-frills vibe of Claire''s place that makes him feel so deeply calm and contented. Like he feels as though he has finally come home.

    And it''s uncanny, too, the quietude of the place. Gabriel walks up to the open window and surveys the moonlit landscape. Claire''s family''s farm seems to extend beyond what he can see, and all around them are structures he could only ?ssume to be the barn, the stables, or wherever they keep all the animals and farming equipment. This is where Claire grew up, and for him, it feels like homecoming, too. He feels that funny, delicious feeling in his stomach, like he''s a teenaged boy again and he just found out that his long-time crush¡ªa girl whose footprints he worshipped¡ªwas endearingly human, too.

    He looks at himself in the mirror and sees how David''s old sleepwear¡ªold pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that says, "I Heart New York"¡ªlook perfectly on him. The clothes were from many years ago, when perhaps David was his age. Yet, it smells clean and new-ish. When he''d come out of the bathroom wearing it, Claire''s mom stopped and stared¡ªshe must have had a vision of her husband from a long time ago.

    "He kinda looks like Dad, right?" Claire had elbowed her mom.

    Her dad had overheard. "I looked much handsomer when I was that age," David protested, and everyone laughed.

    Gabriel sits on the bed and tests how it feels. Then as soon as his back touches the mattress, all weariness seems to descend on him like a thick blanket. He fights it off initially, wondering how he''d proceed in the coming days. He''s seduced into thinking of calling up Mrs. Gomez and having all his clothes flown in, but that would be the opposite of the whole point of being here, right? He had asked Claire to drop everything and travel back all the way to her hometown for a reason, and that''s to cut all their ties to the emotional baggage of their former lives. He will return to that life in due time, when it is necessary or when he finally feels he has fulfilled his goal here, but for the meantime, this feels good, being a nobody, not even having his own clothes. Jesus, he doesn''t even have a change of und?rw??r. Alright, maybe he really should send a message to Mrs. Gomez, but just for the necessities, as he realizes it would be too much to even ask Claire''s dad for his old und?rw??r, wouldn''t it?

    He''s excited about tomorrow. What would they do? What farm-related things would he dip his arm into? Claire had described to him what basically is the scope of the family''s work on the farm: they produce a local brand of cottage cheese, using carabao''s milk (water buffalo). They also have a plot of dragon fruit, which happens to be among the priciest fruits anywhere in the country. "When you say ''plot'', how big is it actually?" he had asked her. "Maybe around ten hectares, give or take a hectare?" Then there are the fields of vegetables, the mango orchard, and the hordes and hordes of free-range chicken, which their family supplies to the local market.

    "How are the four of you able to run this farm? There seems to be a lot going on."

    Claire merely smiled. "You''ll see tomorrow," she said, and you can tell how excited she was, too.

    He had looked at her for a long time, before asking, "You have all these wonderful things. Why go to the city to look for a job? You could have just stayed here and helped run the business, right?"

    She shrugged. "I wanted to see the world out there. And if I hadn''t, then I wouldn''t have met you."

    He hasn''t met Claire''s sister, Mariya, yet. Based on the pictures in the living room, she must be one sweet girl, even sweeter than Claire. Mariya''s room is right across the room he''s in now, and Gabriel wonders if she could take a prank¡ªwhat if she knocks on her door and surprises the bejesus out of her? He laughs inwardly, but then, maybe not a good idea¡ªmaybe that would piss off the over-protective dad. Maybe some other time, then.

    Gabriel sort of closes his eyes just to rest for a bit. But for some reason, his mind tumbles into an abyss and in no time, he''s in dreamland.

    "Hey!" He hears a girl''s voice, similar to Claire''s but higher-pitched, seemingly from far away. "Hey, get up." Then somebody''s kicking him in the feet. "Hey, get up, mister. Are you going to sleep all day?"

    Gabriel reluctantly opens his eyes. Is it morning already? He feels as if he''d just closed his eyes five minutes ago! He had a long and tiring day yesterday, what with all the trouble of trying to find Claire and emotionally managing the very existence of his mother, so much that, yes, somehow he intended to sleep all day. He would have just ordered his people to bring in his breakfast and what-have-you. Except he''s not at home, not at his lavishly appointed suite back in his residential tower in the city. As he gazes around the room, trying to make sense of the time and place and moment, slowly the facts become clearer, and the memory of the previous day crystallizes in his mind.

    "You''re too lazy for such a big man," the voice chirps.

    He bolts up on the bed and discovers the owner of the voice, and his jaw drops: there''s a cuter, younger, even boyish version of Claire standing at the foot of his bed, her hands on her h?ps. And now this cuter "version" of Claire folds her arms on her ?h?st and declares, "If you don''t get up, I will drag you down the stairs myself."

 Chapter 169 - The Younger Sister

    Gabriel gazes at Mariya, trying to be sure Claire isn''t pranking him by wearing her hair this way. The similarities are uncanny. There''s that classic pout that he always found endearing with Claire, but here, it''s a bit strange to see it in action and being done by someone else.

    "Are you Claire''s sister?"

    "Isn''t it obvious?"

    "You''re Mariya, right?"

    "My friends call me ''Mari'' or ''Riya''."

    "So¡­" Gabriel hesitates. "Should I call you Mari, then?"

    "You''re not my friend. So call me Mariya, okay? I haven''t investigated you, yet."

    Gabriel laughs. "How old are you?"

    "Old enough to kick your ?ss if you do something bad to my sister," Mariya says, folding her arms on her ?h?st. "Do we understand each other?"

    "Uhh, yes," Gabriel says, trying to keep a straight face. He couldn''t help but be amazed at this "version" of Claire. Mariya''s short-cropped hair reminds him of Tinker Bell in those Peter Pan movies he''d seen as a kid. She looks as though what Claire would look if you''d up the settings for "Cuteness." There''s no malice here, though; already Gabriel looks at her as his own sister, and one he''s proud to have. And for some reason, he remembers Miguel back in the city; Miguel with his obsession with Claire. What if Miguel and Mariya meet?

    Indeed, what if?

    "Good," Mariya says. "You may get down, then, because food awaits. Mom''s breakfast waits for no man."

    "Okay, boss," Gabriel says, grinning.

    "And stop grinning," Mariya says. "Do we look like we take breakfasts like a joke around here?"

    "Oh, sorry," Gabriel says, trying to pretend seriousness, although inside, he feels like guffawing. "Believe me, I am taking this very, very seriously."

    Carol is in the kitchen/dining area, working deftly with preparing the food. She greets him with a smile and gestures toward the table, where food and their respective plates are neatly arranged, awaiting them.

    Gabriel looks around, wondering why there are only the three of them. "Is Claire up yet? And David?"

    "Claire was up very early. I guess she missed the farm. She''s out there checking the field and our operations. Her dad''s with her."

    "Oh," he mutters, seized by a strange excitement to quickly finish this breakfast (which he must do so that Mariya here won''t break his legs).

    Mariya looks like she''s not even eighteen yet. And indeed, she still has that child-like quality about her; she seems to straddle that awkward boundary between being a teenager and being a proper lady. She''s wearing an over-sized t-shirt, and skimpy shorts, and she seems unaware of her s?x appeal even as she walks around looking like she''s wearing nothing but that shirt on, or when she sits by the dining table with one of her legs propped up on her chair. And for some reason, why does he keep on thinking about Miguel?

    And speaking of Miguel, Gabriel recalls Mrs. Gomez¡ªhe has to send a text message right now. While he still can. He takes out his phone and surreptitiously types a couple of messages. But that action does not escape Mariya, who squints at him and reaches over the table to tap his arm with her spoon.

    "What are you doing?"

    "Uh, sending a message to my¡ª"

    "What did I tell you about breakfast? What did I tell you about manners?"

    Carol smiles awkwardly. "Mariya, I''m sure Gabriel must really send that message."

    Mariya arcs her eyebrow at her mother. "But it doesn''t matter, Mom! We don''t text while we eat."

    "I''m sorry," Gabriel says. "I really am. Look, I''m putting my phone back here in this pocket and I won''t even touch it while we''re eating."

    Mariya just stares at him.

    "What you''ve prepared is really wonderful, Ma''am," Gabriel says, turning to Carol.

    "Well, it''s just bacon and eggs and¡ª"

    "This bread. Did you make it? It smells wonderful," he says, stuffing a piece of freshly baked bread with fruit jam.

    "She makes everything here," Mariya says. "That''s why we respect it."

    "Got it," Gabriel says in-between mouthfuls. "I''m sorry. Will not do that again, I promise."

    Mariya nods sagaciously. She looks like a child who tries to appear old and wizened and begs the world to take her seriously. She takes the jug of milk¡ªfreshly gathered, Gabriel presumes, from their own farm animals¡ªpours some into her glass, then dips her bread, still steaming hot, into the fresh milk. She eats her food this way, and Gabriel couldn''t help but gawk and watch her.

    "What?" she says, noticing him.

    "Oh, nothing. I just¡­ Nothing." He smiles.

    Carol carefully places an empty mug beside him and pours some hot coffee.

    "The coffee," he says, catching a whiff of the aroma. "It smells different."

    "Is it bad?"

    "Oh, no. It smells like some of the coffee I''d had in Rome. It''s terrific. Did you import this?"

    Carol smiles. "We grow it in some plots of our land. We try to be as diversified as possible when it comes to farming. It keeps the health of the soil and also wards off some of the pests."

    Gabriel nods. Interesting, he thinks. And he''s not even kidding about the coffee¡ªit really is that good. He even slurps it noisily in front of Mariya, hoping it would get her approval. And it works¡ªfor the first time since he''d met her this morning, he sees a glimmer of a smile in the corners of Mariya''s face. And it feels so special and "rare" that it makes Gabriel stop and stare again at her¡ªwhich has the effect of making the girl frown at him again.

    "Do you always stare at people on the dining table, mister?"

    Gabriel laughs and raises his hands in a gesture of surrender; Carol laughs, too, shaking her head. She''s used to the antics of her younger daughter, obviously, and whatever this is, this is supposedly "normal" in this house, with this cute little Tinker Bell bossing everybody around.

    After breakfast, Gabriel even tries to help Carol out in taking away the dishes, to which Claire''s mom vehemently resists. "You know you shouldn''t, young man. Leave it to the ladies."

    Mariya''s wiping the table clean. She stops and says, "Yes, because you might break a plate. And that''s gonna cost you. Then you will have to pay for anything you break. Do you even have money?"

    Gabriel laughs. He shrugs. "You''re right. I''m too clumsy I might just end up breaking half of the fine china." He turns to Carol. "Thank you, ma''am, for such a fine breakfast. I guess I''ll move along and find Claire."

    "Oh, shouldn''t you change clothes first? You''re still wearing pajamas."

    "That''s fine, Mom," Mariya interjects. "He can go out wearing that. Nobody cares."

    Carol shakes her head. "No. I''ve put enough clothes in your room''s wardrobe, Gabriel, so you can choose and wear the ones you think best fit you. Just go and change before you go out there."

    "Okay, thank you, Ma''am," he says. Then as he turns, he looks back at Mariya, who''s currently glaring at him in a corner, and blows a raspberry on her. He turns and walks away before she could react.

    Back in his room, Gabriel discovers Carol''s not joking¡ªthere''s a wardrobe filled with clothes that seem they were carefully chosen for him. Although obviously, these belong or once belonged to the man of the house. David is a bit stocky now, so it''s quite a revelation to see the clothes that show how he used to be such a slim, or a dashing, younger man.

    He takes out a long-sleeved checkered shirt, which he feels is in keeping with the general "look" required of the farmhands, and a classic denim pants. The shirt fits him very well, as the reflection on the mirror shows. He could pass of as someone who has lived here all his life. He''s just pulled down his pajamas and wearing his und?rw??r, when a voice surprises him from behind.

    "Checkered shirt and denim," Mariya says, standing by the open door, her arms on her ?h?st. "That''s too clich¨¦, even for you. Don''t you think?"

 Chapter 170 - The Emergency Package

    Mrs. Gomez had woken up earlier than usual. There''s a lot of stuff she must accomplish at the office. For starters, she needs to speak with Manolo, their vice president for legal, to relay Gabriel''s short code message last night. Manolo would know exactly what to do.

    She''s already in the building lobby when her phone again beeps. Her heart jumps when he sees it''s from Gabriel. The message contains a pinned geo-location, and her eyes squint as she reads it off the map. "Where in hell are you, Gab?" she mutters, realizing how far off the grid Gabriel seems to be. "And why are you sending me this?"

    And as if the answer to her question, another message arrives. "Send care package to geo location."

    Mrs. Gomez stops and thinks. Then she laughs loudly, so loud that even the security officer stops what he''s reading and looks at her, worried. She waves him off. "Jesus, Gabriel," she mutters as she presses the elevator bu??on. "You went over there without bringing any luggage, didn''t you? You didn''t even have a change of clothes, and¡­" Mrs. Gomez smiles to herself. "I can''t believe you''re still wearing yesterday''s und?rw??r." She laughs. But even so, she''s already texting Lopez, Gabriel''s butler, forwarding to him Gabriel''s geo-location, along with his simple instructions. Lopez would know exactly what to do, too.

    The office in the TXCI Tower seems business as usual. And there''s no reason it shouldn''t be. Nobody knows what happened yesterday. Mrs. Gomez expects to find the usual irritation in the office today¡ªMichelle, for one, and Matilde. And for both, she must always wear her most gracious smile, don the most diplomatic persona. After all, at least for Matilde, she''s doing this for Gabriel.

    To her surprise, Mrs. Gomez finds Michelle Alcantara waiting for her at the receptionist desk, looking like she''d come straight from the nightclub after an entire night of losing her shit.

    "Michelle," Mrs. Gomez says, smiling her best "good morning" smile. "What can I do you for?"

    "Where''s Gabriel and her little bitch?" Michelle says without a preamble.

    Mrs. Gomez sighs. She places her bag on the desk. "Look, Michelle. Look at my little receptionist desk. What do you see?"

    Michelle''s brows knit in confusion as she actually looks around. Then she shrugs. "Nothing. It''s a normal desk. What are you driving at?"

    Mrs. Gomez smiles. "Do you see a sign anywhere that says, ''Ex-Fianc¨¦ Lost and Found Desk''?"

    Michelle gazes at her blankly for a few moments, then gradually, the insult, the meaning of the sarcasm, dawns on her. For a split-second Michelle looks like she would really lose her shit, but at the last moment, she probably remembers who Mrs. Gomez really is¡ªshe''s not a "normal" receptionist here. All this is a ploy, as she''d known from the years she''d been with Gabriel. Mrs. Gomez is here to help Gab know whom to trust and who talks shit behind his back. And people who were not aware of that are now long fired from the company.

    So Michelle back-tracks, then summons her fakest smile. "That''s a good one. I have always loved your sense of humor, Mrs. Gomez."

    "You do, do you?"

    Michelle says nothing. She just stares at Mrs. Gomez as she tidies up her desk and gets ready for another day serving the glorious holdings company of Gabriel Tan.

    "Well, I only wanted to speak with Gabriel, you know," Michelle says after a long moment of awkward silence.

    "I also wanted to speak with Gabriel," Mrs. Gomez says, knowing fully well that she must not speak of Gabriel''s instructions last night. As much as possible, his detractors should not realize Gabriel''s not here. If that gets out, then they would have to shift to Plan B, and she feels it''s still too early to shift to Plan B. "And I haven''t gotten hold of him. He''s probably very busy doing very personal things, or maybe he''s planning very private matters involving loved ones I would not need to name, which means whatever he does at this moment in time has nothing to do with me and does not need my services. Because otherwise he would have contacted me¡ªand I would have known where Gabriel is right now, then I would have had an answer for you."

    Mrs. Gomez smiles sweetly.

    Michelle''s mouth actually falls open. She''s probably high. Mrs. Gomez could see Michelle''s mental gears grinding and trying to understand what she just said, then failing miserably to process that simple information.

    "I don''t know where Gabriel is, Michelle. I also don''t know where his little bitch is, right now. I''m just a little person."

    "Okay," Michelle nods, and the way she does it gives away her drunkenness. "Okay. Thank you, then."

    "One down, one more to go," Mrs. Gomez mutters; maybe in a few hours, just before lunch, it would be Matilde Tan darkening that elevator lobby, looking for his son "and that little bitch." Oh, Claire¡ªwhy are you so popular and so beloved among these kinds of people?

    Meanwhile, having received Mrs. Gomez''s forwarded message, Lopez, Gabriel''s butler, is so coolly dialing the emergency phone that he has always reserved for these moments. There are many "emergency codes" in his job, and Gabriel Tan makes it a point that the people who work closest to him know these codes by heart. And a single glance at the message, Lopez understood the magnitude of his responsibility.

    "Mike, I''m sending you a geo-location pinned by Mr. Tan," Lopez says to the phone. "Please see it and decide if you''d need either a plane or a chopper."

    "Is this an emergency package number one?" Mike says; as head of Gabriel''s personal security, he already has an inkling of what''s needed. "And where do we pick it up?"

    "Here, at Mr. Tan''s residence," Lopez says. "It should be ready in an hour."

    "Got it. We won''t fail."

    Lopez smiles lightly as he puts down the phone. Yes, you must not fail, he says to himself. Because if you do, Mr. Gabriel Tan, one of the world''s leading captains of industry, would not have clean, fresh und?rw??r to use in the coming days. If that happens, heads will roll¡ªeven if the man''s head-over-heels in love.