CHAPTER 5

Beneath a grand chandelier that sparkled like stars in the night sky, Bridget Augustus, the sharp-eyed CEO who missed no detail, sat across from Manang Karen, her ever-loyal house manager, maid, and gossip queen. The dining table looked straight out of a five-star restaurant scene: a perfectly cooked beef Wellington, roasted vegetables drizzled with olive oil, and a mix of native desserts like sapin-sapin and kutsinta. To the side, a bottle of imported wine stood proudly—even though it was still morning. Because why not? She could afford almost everything. Almost, because some things cannot be bought.

“Well done, Manang Karen. You managed to find quite the driver,” Bridget said casually as she cut into her beef Wellington. Her voice carried a hint of sarcasm, though her slight smirk betrayed a sliver of genuine approval. It was the kind of praise that said, “Good job, but don’t get cocky.”

Manang Karen frowned and scratched her head, visibly puzzled. “Wh-why, ma’am? Did you test him out as usual?” she asked, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. In her mind, she was already bracing for the worst-case scenario. Please, Lord, don’t let there be any trouble with my Hans Seymour. Yes, her delulu tendencies were in full swing. She couldn’t help but think of Hans as the future father of her children. Not that he knew, of course. Thick face as she may be, but she actually does. Manang Karen is so much of a trouble; even with her white and old skin, she still has the guts to flirt.

Bridget sipped her freshly brewed coffee, smirking. “Oh, I did, and he’s good. Really good. I wouldn’t be surprised if my people start calling for medical reimbursements. He took down three men without breaking a sweat.”

Manang Karen froze mid-peel of her kutsinta. Her eyes widened. “Three? He beat up three guys?!” she whispered in disbelief. A flurry of questions swirled in her head—How? Why? What exactly happened?—but none escaped her lips. Instead, a small smile crept onto her face as she pictured Hans Seymour in action.

“Ugh, you’d make such a perfect father for my kids, Mr. Hans Seymour,” she muttered under her breath, unaware that her dreamy smile had given her away.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, catching her assistant’s peculiar grin. “Hey! Have you lost your mind? What’s with that ridiculous look?”

Manang Karen almost choked on her own thoughts. “Ahh… umm… nothing, ma’am Bridget! I’m just happy you’ve got a protective driver now. You never know with all the troublemakers these days,” she stammered, trying to deflect.

But deep down, her thoughts were far less professional. Please don’t make me your rival, ma’am Bridget. I swear I’ll fight for him if I have to. Sure, you’re richer and probably bathe in imported soap, but I’ve got charisma.

Bridget, ever composed and sharp, recalled the incident during Hans’s first day. He had seemed calm and professional, like any corporate-trained driver. But something about him stood out. She’d orchestrated a little test, sending three of her men to pose as carjackers. Hans’s response was flawless—quick, precise, and efficient, like someone with a hidden past.

“Karen,” Bridget said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I think your driver is hiding something. Make sure his background check is thorough.”

Manang Karen shrugged nonchalantly. “Background check? Ma’am, maybe you should check my heart instead,” she muttered under her breath, returning to her kutsinta.

“By the way, doesn’t Hans stay in?” Bridget asked, casually picking at a piece of sapin-sapin.

“Well, I suggested it to him,” Manang Karen replied. “I told him it’d be more convenient, but he refused.”

Bridget’s brow arched. “Why?”

“He said he had personal matters to handle. Honestly, I don’t know what’s so important, but he seems to have a lot going on,” Manang Karen said, her tone a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

“Hmm…” Bridget murmured, disinterested on the surface but undeniably intrigued. “Just make sure he’s never late. I despise tardiness.” She returned to her meal, signaling the end of the topic—or so it seemed.

Just then, Manang Karen glanced out the mansion’s window, her eyes lighting up as she spotted someone approaching. “Speaking of which, he’s here, ma’am Bridget,” she said, trying—and failing—to keep her excitement in check.

Bridget followed her gaze. Hans Seymour was stepping out of a sleek black SUV, its polished exterior gleaming in the morning light. Dressed in a navy-blue suit tailored to perfection, his broad shoulders, chest, and arms filled it out effortlessly. His polished black leather shoes caught the sun, completing the look of a man who wouldn’t look out of place on a high-fashion runway.

Bridget remained silent, sipping her coffee, but Manang Karen was a different story. Her heart raced as she watched Hans walk toward the mansion in what felt like slow motion. Why is he so hot, even in a simple suit? she wondered, her dreamy smile returning.

Bridget noticed—again. “Karen, what now? Stop grinning like that. You look ridiculous.”

“Ha? Ahhh… ehhh… it's nothing ma’am Bridget! I’m just happy the new driver is so hardworking,” Manang Karen stammered, her cheeks turning pink.

Bridget said nothing, though a sly smirk tugged at her lips. She was starting to understand why her assistant was acting so strangely. Even she couldn’t deny there was something intriguing about Hans Seymour.

“Well, I’ll give him this—he does know how to carry himself,” Bridget thought, taking another sip of her coffee. Despite her outward indifference, she couldn’t shake her growing curiosity about her enigmatic driver.

“Manang…” Bridget said, her tone casual but firm. “Tell him to join us for breakfast. We’ll leave after he eats.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Manang Karen replied, practically jumping out of her seat. She hurried toward the door, her excitement bubbling over. Finally, some one-on-one time with Mr. Hans Seymour!

But in her rush, she slipped on the polished floor and landed with a loud thud. “Ouch!” she yelped.

Hans quickly stepped forward, helping her up with ease. “Are you okay, Manang?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with concern.

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Seymour…” Manang Karen replied, her expression somewhere between embarrassment and infatuation. Her eyes practically turned into heart shapes as she looked at him.

Hans cleared his throat and offered a polite smile. “This job is turning out to be more challenging than I expected,” he thought, before turning his attention to Bridget inside the mansion.

Manang Karen watched him walk away, her heart fluttering. Why are you doing this to me, Hans Seymour? she thought. You’re so handsome, even in just a simple suit.

As Hans entered the dining room, Bridget glanced up, her face a mask of calm. “Good morning, Hans. Take a seat. Have breakfast before we leave,” she said, gesturing toward the spread.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hans replied, his tone respectful as he took his place at the table.

Manang Karen stood nearby, watching the scene unfold like it was a rom-com come to life. She couldn’t help but think, This is it. My heart can’t take much more of this.