Liliana jolted awake when her phone’s alarm blared by mistake. She silenced it, blinked at the wide space beside her, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
“Two‑thirty in the morning,” she muttered. “Where are you, Gerald?” Unable to settle, she slipped out of bed. Gerald had stayed downstairs at their engagement party while she had come up early, half‑tipsy and exhausted. His absence now raised a warning in her heart. Liliana padded through the suite—no Gerald in the bathroom, none on the balcony. She tried calling him. A flat recording answered: “The number you dialed is unreachable.” A cold heaviness settled in her chest. She stepped into the hallway and almost stumbled over a pair of men’s shoes outside the room directly across from hers. Light glinted on the polished leather. “Gerald’s shoes,” she whispered, recognizing the scuff on the toe. “Did he wander into the wrong room?” Hesitating only a moment, she lifted the shoes, checked the familiar size, and eased the door open. The faint scent of whiskey and expensive perfume drifted out. A man’s trousers and a scarlet cocktail dress lay tangled on the carpet. Her pulse pounded as a breathless voice floated through the dim suite. “Faster, Gerald… ah, faster!” Liliana’s fingers shook around the shoes. “Mirabelle?” she mouthed, stunned. She stepped over scattered lingerie and Gerald’s boxers—a sickening breadcrumb trail that led toward the bedroom. Inside, Gerald’s voice growled, thick with desire. “God, Mirabelle, you feel incredible—so much better than your friend who wants to wait until the wedding. I can’t stand the waiting.” “I told you,” Mirabelle answered on a moan, “call me anytime you need me.” Three years of love, five years of friendship—shattered in one overheard breath. “You’re still perfect after two years,” Gerald gasped. “Two years,” Liliana whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “You’ve been cheating that long?” “I’m close,” Gerald rasped. The words ripped something inside her. Anger flared, scorching away shock. She kicked the door wide. “Damn you both!” Mirabelle froze, astride Gerald. Gerald, still buried inside his lover, stared at Liliana in horror. “Liliana, wait—let me explain,” he pleaded, scrambling for the sheet. “Don’t come near me!” Her voice cracked but rang with fury. “You saw it wrong,” Gerald insisted, clutching the linen around his waist. “Mirabelle got me drunk. That’s all.” “Drunk for two years?” Liliana barked a bitter laugh. Mirabelle’s painted lips curled. “I simply give him what you withhold. He enjoys it. I enjoy it. What’s the crime?” “Mirabelle, stop,” Gerald hissed. Liliana’s vision blurred. She stepped forward and slapped Mirabelle across the face. The sharp crack echoed. Grabbing a fistful of the woman’s hair, she yanked hard before Gerald seized her wrists. “You filthy cheaters!” she screamed, struggling in his grip. “Enough!” In frustration Gerald shoved her. Liliana stumbled but caught herself, shaking. Her voice wavered yet held steel. “Call off the engagement and stay out of my life.” “You can’t,” Gerald snapped. “Be grateful a nerd like you even found a man. And you need me—remember your parents’ will? You have to marry to access the inheritance.” Liliana’s hand flew again, striking his cheek. “So that’s it. I’m just a bank account to you.” Gerald’s eyes darkened; he raised his hand to strike back—but another hand caught his wrist. “Please, sir,” a calm voice said, “show her some respect.” Liliana gasped. A hotel attendant stood beside her, dressed in a plain black uniform, gold name tag glinting. His expression was neutral yet resolute. Gerald ripped his arm free, furious. “Who are you? Staff? This is none of your business. Get out.” The attendant ignored him. Gently, he released Liliana’s hand, slipped off her diamond engagement ring, and flicked it back at Gerald. The ring hit Gerald’s chest and clattered onto the bed. Then the stranger removed a slender silver band from his own finger and slid it onto Liliana’s trembling hand. “He says no man would want you because you’re a nerd,” the stranger said softly, eyes never leaving Gerald’s. “I will marry you and stay loyal until my last breath. Will you accept, Miss…?” Liliana’s breath hitched. “Liliana,” she whispered. “My Liliana,” he replied, smoothing her hair with surprising tenderness. Gerald’s face flushed scarlet. He moved as if to lunge, outrage twisting his features. The stranger’s gaze flicked downward, assessing. A faint smirk touched his lips. “Cheaters,” he remarked coolly, “and rather small, too.” With a strangled roar Gerald charged. The attendant swung one swift kick; Gerald crashed to the carpet, wheezing. Mirabelle shrieked and pulled the sheet higher. The stranger turned to Liliana, gaze gentle again. “Shall we go?” He offered his hand. Liliana stared at the room—the crumpled sheets, discarded clothes, shattered illusions. She slipped her trembling fingers into his warm, steady palm. “Yes,” she breathed. “Let’s go.” They walked out together, shoes forgotten on the hallway floor, leaving behind the ruins of her old life. --- Liliana’s knees threatened to buckle as the elevator doors closed. Adrenaline drained from her limbs, replaced by disbelief. She drew a shaky breath. “I don’t even know your name.” He pressed the lobby button, then met her eyes. “Caleb,” he said. “Caleb Hart.” “Why did you help me? You could lose your job.” “I don’t work here,” Caleb answered, voice low. “The uniform is a disguise.” “A disguise?” He gave a rueful half‑smile. “Long story. Tonight I was meeting a client—and saw you go into that room. I recognized the look in your eyes. No one should face betrayal alone.” The elevator chimed at the lobby. He kept her hand as they stepped out. Hotel staff glanced their way, but Caleb’s steady stride discouraged questions. Outside, a soft drizzle dampened the glow of streetlights. Caleb shrugged off the jacket of his borrowed uniform and draped it over her shoulders. “Your ring,” Liliana said suddenly, touching the silver band he had given her. “It belongs to you.” “It belongs to you now,” he replied. “But we can discuss everything once you’re safe.” She managed a wan smile. “I feel safe already.” They stopped beside a sleek black sedan. A chauffeur jumped out and opened the rear door. Liliana stared. Caleb slid his hand from hers, bowed slightly, and gestured for her to enter. “You’re full of surprises,” she murmured. “That was only the first,” he said, eyes warm. “The rest of your life starts tonight, Liliana—on your terms, not anyone else’s.” Inside the car, city lights streaked past the windows. Liliana closed her eyes and exhaled. Hurt lingered, but hope stirred, fragile and bright. She opened her eyes and looked at Caleb. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what?” “For showing me I deserve more than lies.” Caleb’s voice was soft. “You deserve everything true.” Liliana turned her face toward the night, the silver ring cool against her skin—a promise born in chaos, yet shining like dawn. And somewhere behind them, in a hotel room that smelled of betrayal, Gerald finally understood what it meant to lose something priceless. ***** LMCD22Liliana clutched the stranger’s hand while silent tears rolled down her cheeks. They were in the elevator, riding toward the hotel’s rooftop because—of all places—that was the only refuge the young man could think of.The doors opened. Liliana was still sobbing when they reached the windy deck, but she let him guide her across the gravel until they stood at the rail, the glittering city spread beneath them like a wounded galaxy.“Liliana.”She lifted her swollen eyes to the hotel attendant standing beside her. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket, removed her reading glasses with gentle fingers, and dabbed the tears from her face.“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”“I love him,” Liliana whispered, voice breaking. “I really love him. He’s my life. I gave him everything he needed—everything except my virginity, because I wanted to save that for our wedding night.”For three years Gerald had shown her what she thought was love, and she still could not grasp h
Liliana’s Point of ViewA harsh beam of sunlight slid through the hotel room window and struck my face. I blinked, groaned, then squeezed my eyes shut as pain speared my skull, rippled down my back, and throbbed between my thighs. What on earth happened to me? It felt as though I had fought a war in my sleep.Something warm curled around my waist. I opened my eyes and found myself nose‑to‑chest with a man— solid, sculpted, his bare torso pressed against me. I lifted my gaze to his face. Familiar, yet I could not place him at first.Memory flared. Gerald in bed with Mirabelle. My scream. A hotel attendant who shielded me, called himself my husband, and offered loyalty when my world collapsed. Fern.I inhaled sharply. I had dragged that innocent staff member into my chaos, into a bar, into my bed. Heat flooded my cheeks.Please, make love to me.The words I had begged last night echoed in my mind. Mortifying.“I am sorry,” I whispered.The room was elegant, hushed. Fern slept soundly, a
Liliana’s Point of ViewI woke slowly, blinking up at a white ceiling while the antiseptic scent of the company clinic pricked my nose. My right arm felt like stone. I turned my head and saw Jack asleep beside the bed, using my numb hand as a pillow.“J‑Jack,” I rasped. My throat was desert‑dry.He jerked upright, eyes wide. “You’re awake.”“My arm. I can’t move it.”He stared, horrified. “I’ll call the nurse.”“It’s numb because you used it as a cushion,” I muttered.Color washed up his cheeks. “I am so sorry.”He reached for my hand. I stopped him with a wince. “Let the blood come back first.”He nodded, contrite. “Water. You need water.” He filled a paper cup and helped me drink. Cool liquid soothed the rawness in my throat, and the ache in my body had faded to a dull throb. I glanced at the IV taped to my wrist.“Why am I on a drip?”“You had a high fever,” Jack said. “Looked like you’d been… well, assaulted. You passed out around lunch.”“What time is it now?”“Seven in the eveni
Third‑Person Point of ViewCaleb had spent the previous day combing every department, photograph of the CEO’s wife in hand, yet still had not located her. He stared at the picture now, bewildered. Women of every pedigree chased Asher Windermere, but the bride he had chosen was a shy-looking “nerd.” Caleb scratched his head; the marriage had happened so suddenly he, the chief aide, had learned of it only afterward.A sleek car pulled to the curb. Asher stepped out and Caleb hurried over with the other executives.“Good morning, Sir—”“Did you find her?”Caleb swallowed. “She was off yesterday, Sir. Her co‑workers said she took an engagement‑leave day.”Asher’s eyes narrowed. “Take me to her department.”Caleb hesitated. Showing up unannounced could expose the young woman to the wolves of gossip. He leaned closer. “Sir, you told me we would not announce your marriage yet.”“Asher”s voice dropped to silk. “Is it wrong to introduce my wife?”“N‑no, Sir. Just… privacy, security—”He broke
Liliana’s Point of View Liliana froze in the corridor. Gerald blocked the doorway to her department, yet her pulse thundered as if she were the guilty one. No—he was the betrayer. She would not cower again. She inhaled, lifted her chin, and stepped forward. Gerald hurried to meet her, eyes wide with feigned concern. “Liliana, thank God you are here. I thought you skipped work. Your grandmother said you had errands yesterday. Can we talk?” “Not now. Be professional, Gerald. This is the office. There is nothing left to discuss. We ended the night you betrayed me.” She kept her voice low to avoid a scene, but Gerald seized her wrist, fingers biting. “Let me explain—” “Release me,” she hissed. The department‑head door swung open. Asher Windermere appeared, his gaze instantly locking on Gerald’s hand. Gerald’s grip loosened under the CEO’s frigid stare. Liliana yanked her arm free and glanced at Asher. “Thank you, Sir,” she murmured and bowed slightly. Gerald slunk away without ap
Liliana’s Point of View I sat across from him, staring straight into the eyes of the man who owned the company I worked for. I couldn’t believe what he was saying— that the two of us were already married. On the polished desk between us lay two rings. Only now did I notice how stunning they were: one was a large diamond solitaire; the other, a plain band circled by tiny diamonds, clearly expensive. Unbelievable. “My wife…” My eyes flew wide. I snapped my gaze to him. “O‑Oh? I mean— Mr. Asher, don’t call me wife. We are not married. That’s impossible.” His shoulders fell as though I had struck him, and guilt pricked the edge of my heart. I cleared my throat softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Do you need water?” he asked at once. I shook my head. “Please, explain how you can claim I’m your wife. Where is our marriage certificate, hmm?” He glanced at his right‑hand man, Caleb. “About the certificate,” Caleb said carefully, “you receive it fourteen days after the ceremony. Wh
Liliana’s Point of View The next morning… I was at home—though most people wouldn’t call this place a simple home. It was a family‑owned mansion. I had left the boardinghouse for good. Gerald knew only two places I could be: that tiny room I used to rent and Grandma’s farm. He had no idea this mansion even existed. Grandpa and Grandma handled all the salaries for the maids and bodyguards, their budget set aside long ago. Grandpa was abroad on a short trip, but when they were in the Philippines they lived out on the farm where Gerald had gone looking for me. The house there was plain wood; they chose the quiet life of farmers and never told anyone they were wealthy. I respected their wish. Truth be told, I liked living modestly, too. That’s why I held an ordinary job—to earn my own money. I stayed humble and polite, but the minute someone stepped on me, the spoiled brat inside came out with no filter at all. The “marry‑for‑one‑year” clause? That was entirely my parents’ idea, writ
Liliana’s Point of View I stepped out of the car on my own and drew a deep breath while staring up at the sleek façade of the company building. Please, I prayed silently, let me get through the day without running into any of them—any of the three. I swiped my ID at the turnstile and winced. That same wretched card had been left behind at the hotel—the hotel where everything went so terribly wrong. Because of that little piece of plastic they’d traced exactly where I worked. Great job, ID. Of all the things to lose, you just had to be the one. I muttered the words under my breath. A soft chuckle sounded. I turned and found a guy about my age waiting for the elevator beside me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Are you laughing at me?” I asked quietly. He glanced around; the lobby was empty except for us. “Me?” he replied, feigning innocence. “Unless you laugh to yourself the way I do.” “Oh? Looks like we’re the same.” “So you admit you’re crazy too.” I planted my hands on my hip
Liliana’s Point of View We finished hammering out the details, and Zephyr read every line back to be sure we agreed. “Let me review the items one more time,” he said, scrolling through the tablet. Both Asher and I nodded. “First: yes to physical touch—holding hands, hugs, kisses, whatever you two decide. Liliana, you set the pace; if Mr. Windermere ignores your boundaries, there’ll be penalties.” I nodded, cheeks warming. “Second: no third wheels in the relationship. About your ex—what’s the plan?” “The ex‑fiancé will be useful,” Asher answered calmly. “We’ll let him stew in jealousy.” He arched a brow at me, and I nearly choked. He’d guessed exactly what I wanted. “Like it or not,” he added, “I’ve been part of your plan from the start.” I couldn’t help a quiet laugh. Zephyr shook his head. “Yep—still crazy.” “It’s not insanity,” I said, grinning. “He just reads my mind.” “Mr.—” “Hep‑hep,” Zephyr cut in, wagging a finger. “Rule three: no ‘Mr. Asher.’ You two need endearment
Liliana’s Point of View I swallowed hard. Calling my boss a servant suddenly felt ridiculous. “N‑Never mind,” I muttered, drying my hands. “Let’s just go.” Before I could step away, Asher planted one hand on the wall, caging me. His face hovered inches from mine. “You still haven’t answered my question. Don’t you want me in your plan, wife?” I cleared my throat. “M‑Mr. Asher—” “Wrong title,” he whispered. “I’m your husband.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and grazed it with a fleeting kiss. My cheeks burned. “We’ll talk at your condo—with your lawyer present—so you can see exactly how you’ll fit,” I said, keeping my voice steady. His brows pinched, hurt flickering in his eyes. “So… all this time, I was never part of your plan.” He stepped back, shoulders stiff. “I’ll wait in the car.” He walked off. I rubbed my temples. Great. I’ve wounded a billionaire’s pride. After locking up, I found him holding the car door for me. “Thank you,” I murmured. He nodded once, sl
Liliana’s Point of View I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I already tasted that,” he murmured. “I was unconscious. I don’t remember a thing,” I shot back. Asher eased closer until our noses almost brushed. “Want me to remind you?” My eyes went wide. I shoved his face away. “N‑No, thanks!” He chuckled softly. “You really are adorable when you panic.” Heat flared in my cheeks. “Are you laughing at me?” “Fine, I’m sorry.” He straightened. “Ready to head out?” I nodded, then paused. “It’s scorching—maybe you should drink water first?” His grin widened. “Concerned about me? I like that, wife.” I rolled my eyes. “Come inside.” In the kitchen I fetched a bottle from the fridge—spotting an array of fresh ingredients that made my stomach rumble. The farmhouse was miles from any café, too. “Hungry?” he asked. “If you haven’t decided on a restaurant, I’ll cook us brunch—well, lunch by now.” “Your kitchen, your rules.” He leaned against the counter. “Need a hand?” “I’ve got it. Sit
Liliana’s Point of View The blare of my alarm yanked me from sleep. One glance and panic punched me awake—late! I shot out of bed, sprinted to the bathroom, and took the fastest shower of my life. Blame the contract. I’d been writing until past midnight, then crashed at twelve‑something. Now—disaster. While tugging on clothes I flashed back to Asher’s teasing question from yesterday: “What if I make you fall for me?” I’d stared at him, struck silent, my heart skipping like a scratched record. “Just kidding,” he’d said, chuckling. “As you wish, Mrs. Strategist.” Yet my chest had stung in a way I couldn’t name. Focus! I had to leave— My phone rang. Fern lit the screen. I answered, breathless. “Hello?” “Good morning, wife. Sleep well?” “Not really—I’m late!” “For what?” he asked, amused. “You have another job besides my company?” “Boss, what are you talking about?” “It’s Saturday. Where are you rushing off to?” “Saturday—what?” I checked the date—Saturday indeed. My adrena
Liliana’s Point of View The moment my eyes opened, I found myself in a bright, white room that felt oddly familiar. I jerked upright, heart pounding. “W‑Where am I? Is the guy with the chicken here already?” I turned in circles, searching for the legendary gatekeeper with his rooster. A nurse in a white uniform hurried in. “Miss, are you all right?” “Have you seen the man carrying a chicken? You know—the one in a white robe. What’s his name again…?” “Chicken, ma’am?” she echoed, frowning. “Yes! The man with the rooster. Uh… Saint—Saint what‑shis‑name?” “Miss, are you having a dream? Perhaps I should call the doct—” “San Pedro!” I blurted. “I’m in heaven, right?” The nurse’s eyes grew huge. “You’re not in heaven, Miss.” “Then—then I’m in hell?” “No! You’re still on earth—and very much alive.” “So you’re a spirit guide?” I gasped. Just then the door burst open and Fern hurried in, out of breath. “Fern? You can see me?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he strode to the bed and
Liliana’s Point of View Jack and I had claimed the rooftop as our new lunch spot. We spread out our lunch boxes on the low parapet wall and let the breeze cut through the heat. “Everything you make looks delicious—and you even packed dessert,” Jack said between bites. “Did you cook all of this yourself?” I nodded, smiling. Sometimes Manang helped, but most days I handled it so she wouldn’t get too tired. “Weee!” I frowned and smacked the back of his head. He yelped, clutching the sore spot. “Ow! Why’d you do that?” “That’s what you get for doubting me. You never believe anything unless you see it yourself.” “Well, in all the years we’ve been friends I never actually watched you cook.” “Because I only cooked for Gerald—never for anyone else. Your best friend didn’t like sharing.” I stressed the words best friend. Jack’s brows knit. “ Hey—who said she’s still my friend?” “Isn’t she?” “Uh… I punched her this morning.” My eyes widened. “You really did? Tell me everything.” I l
Liliana’s Point of View I stepped out of the car on my own and drew a deep breath while staring up at the sleek façade of the company building. Please, I prayed silently, let me get through the day without running into any of them—any of the three. I swiped my ID at the turnstile and winced. That same wretched card had been left behind at the hotel—the hotel where everything went so terribly wrong. Because of that little piece of plastic they’d traced exactly where I worked. Great job, ID. Of all the things to lose, you just had to be the one. I muttered the words under my breath. A soft chuckle sounded. I turned and found a guy about my age waiting for the elevator beside me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Are you laughing at me?” I asked quietly. He glanced around; the lobby was empty except for us. “Me?” he replied, feigning innocence. “Unless you laugh to yourself the way I do.” “Oh? Looks like we’re the same.” “So you admit you’re crazy too.” I planted my hands on my hip
Liliana’s Point of View The next morning… I was at home—though most people wouldn’t call this place a simple home. It was a family‑owned mansion. I had left the boardinghouse for good. Gerald knew only two places I could be: that tiny room I used to rent and Grandma’s farm. He had no idea this mansion even existed. Grandpa and Grandma handled all the salaries for the maids and bodyguards, their budget set aside long ago. Grandpa was abroad on a short trip, but when they were in the Philippines they lived out on the farm where Gerald had gone looking for me. The house there was plain wood; they chose the quiet life of farmers and never told anyone they were wealthy. I respected their wish. Truth be told, I liked living modestly, too. That’s why I held an ordinary job—to earn my own money. I stayed humble and polite, but the minute someone stepped on me, the spoiled brat inside came out with no filter at all. The “marry‑for‑one‑year” clause? That was entirely my parents’ idea, writ
Liliana’s Point of View I sat across from him, staring straight into the eyes of the man who owned the company I worked for. I couldn’t believe what he was saying— that the two of us were already married. On the polished desk between us lay two rings. Only now did I notice how stunning they were: one was a large diamond solitaire; the other, a plain band circled by tiny diamonds, clearly expensive. Unbelievable. “My wife…” My eyes flew wide. I snapped my gaze to him. “O‑Oh? I mean— Mr. Asher, don’t call me wife. We are not married. That’s impossible.” His shoulders fell as though I had struck him, and guilt pricked the edge of my heart. I cleared my throat softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Do you need water?” he asked at once. I shook my head. “Please, explain how you can claim I’m your wife. Where is our marriage certificate, hmm?” He glanced at his right‑hand man, Caleb. “About the certificate,” Caleb said carefully, “you receive it fourteen days after the ceremony. Wh