CHAPTER THREE: "Sit. Properly,"

CHAPTER THREE:

Xielle’s eyes snapped open at exactly 6:00 AM. Even though her body begged for another hour of sleep, she forced herself to head to the rooftop gym. It was a routine she never broke whenever her morning was free. In her industry, staying fit and pretty wasn't just about vanity—it was her puhunan.

Unlike other celebrities, Xielle didn’t grow up with a silver spoon. She wasn't born into wealth; she made her family wealthy through sheer grit and hard work. Every drop of sweat in the gym was a reminder of the life she was determined to keep.

By 8:00 AM, she was showered and freshened up. Just as she was finishing her light makeup, she heard the door to her unit open. It was her manager.

"You ready?" her manager asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Almost," Xielle replied, checking her reflection one last time. She paused, noticing her manager’s unusual presence inside the unit. Usually, she just waited in the parking lot. "Why are you here? May problema ba?"

"Nothing. It’s just... Jake asked me to set up a dinner for the two of you—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Xielle cut her off, her voice dropping to a cold, warning tone.

"Of course, I won't. I just thought you should know."

"Good. Maganda nang maliwanag ang lahat," Xielle said, grabbing her bag. "Let’s go."

The ride to the Lux Beauty studio was filled with a heavy silence. Xielle wasn't in the mood. The photoshoot was grueling, followed by a long live stream to promote the new line. As the day went on, she felt a familiar, dull ache in her lower abdomen. By 1:00 PM, she rushed to the restroom and cursed under her breath.

"F*ck," she hissed. Of all days, her period decided to show up now.

She quickly messaged her manager to grab her extra clothes and pads. The rest of the day was a test of willpower. Despite the cramps and the exhaustion, Xielle barely let her professionalism slip. She didn't smile when the cameras were off, but the moment the red light blinked, she was the perfect Lux Beauty icon.

8:00 PM | Z Luxury Building

Twelve hours of work and zero meals later, Xielle felt like she was on the verge of collapsing. She was so hungry she felt lightheaded. Desperate for a sanctuary, she messaged the only person she could trust right now.

To Tania:  I haven't eaten anything yet. I’m literally about to pass out. 🥺

From Tania: Come here! There's plenty of food in the office. Just don’t tell your manager! 😆

To Tania: Life saver. On my way. 🥹

"Ma, drop me off at Z Luxury Fragrance," Xielle told her manager as they left the studio.

"You’ve been going there a lot lately—"

"I'm done working, Ma. I need my own time," Xielle said firmly, ending the conversation.

When she reached the 15th floor, the elevator doors opened to the quiet lobby. "Wow, may unan na," she whispered, noticing the new additions to the couch. She checked her phone for Tania’s instructions.

From Tania: Go to Conference Room 202. Turn left, it's the first room.

Xielle followed the directions, her stomach growling with every step. She pushed the door open without knocking, expecting to see Tania and a spread of food.

Xielle slammed her hands over her eyes and spun around instantly. The image was burned into her mind: the dim office lights hitting the sharp, sculpted muscles of Zeke’s back as he pulled off his shirt.

​"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Zeke’s voice roared through the room, startled and raw.

​"I’m sorry! I thought this was the conference room Tania mentioned!" Xielle shouted back, her face heating up behind her palms.

​"LEAVE!" Zeke’s voice thundered again, louder this time, bouncing off the glass walls of the office.

​The air in the room suddenly froze.

​Xielle’s heart didn't just race; it stopped. The voice—the sheer, violent volume of it—didn't belong to the CEO anymore. In her mind, the polished office walls melted away, replaced by the dark, suffocating memories of a house she had tried so hard to forget.

​The roar in her ears wasn't Zeke. It was the sound of a shattering glass bottle. The sound of a voice she hadn't heard in years but could never escape.

​Her father.

​Xielle didn't just leave. She scrambled out of the room, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. She clutched her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of her blazer, trying to remind herself that she was safe, that she was an adult, that she was powerful.

​But her body wasn't listening. She felt like that small, terrified girl again, hiding under a table while the world screamed around her.

​"Xielle?"

​A hand touched her shoulder. Xielle flinched so violently she almost hit the wall.

​"Hey, it's me. It's Tania," her friend said, her voice full of sudden alarm. "Xielle, ba’t ang putla mo? What happened?"

​Xielle’s vision was blurring at the edges. She reached out, gripping Tania’s hand like a lifeline. "Let’s... let's just eat outside," she whispered, her voice trembling so hard it was barely audible.

​"What happened there? Xielle, your hand is ice cold," Tania said, her eyes searching Xielle’s face.

​"Nothing, Tania... let’s just leave. Please. Now," Xielle pleaded. She was trying to fight it, trying to push the darkness back, but the trigger had been too sharp. The room was spinning, the lights of the Z Luxury lobby flickering like a broken film.

​"Okay, okay. We’re leaving. Calm down, Xielle. Just breathe with me," Tania said, her voice fading as if she were underwater.

​Xielle tried to take a breath, but her lungs felt like they were filled with lead. The trauma she had buried under layers of fame and expensive clothes finally broke through. The last thing she saw was the worried expression on Tania’s face before the world went completely black.

​THE AFTERMATH (Zeke's POV)

​Inside the office, Zeke stood frozen, his shirt only halfway on. He hadn't meant to shout that loud—it was just a reflex, an instinctual reaction to his privacy being invaded.

​But the look he saw on Xielle’s face before she turned... it wasn't just embarrassment. It was pure, unadulterated terror.

​He pulled his shirt down and walked toward the door, his jaw set in its usual cold line. He expected to see her waiting in the lobby to yell back at him or make a joke.

​Instead, he saw Tania kneeling on the floor, cradling a limp, pale Xielle in her arms.

​"Xielle! Wake up! Sir, help!" Tania’s frantic voice echoed through the hallway.

​Zeke’s mask of indifference didn't just crack; it shattered. He didn't think so. He didn't calculate. He moved faster than he ever had, dropping to the floor beside them.

​"What happened?" he demanded, but his voice was no longer a roar. It was a low, urgent hum.

​He looked at Xielle’s face—the "Ethereal Icon" was gone. She looked small, broken, and hauntingly fragile.

​"I don't know!" Tania was crying now. "She just came out of your office and... and she just collapsed."

​Zeke looked at his office door, then back at the girl in his arms. The silence of the 15th floor had never felt so heavy.

The cold, sterile atmosphere of the 15th floor felt like it was closing in. Zeke didn't hesitate. He pushed Tania aside gently but firmly and gathered Xielle’s limp body into his arms. She felt dangerously light, her head falling back against his shoulder as he stood up.

"Sir, where are you taking her? The hospital?" Tania was stumbling behind him, her voice thick with tears.

"No. The paparazzi are probably camped outside the main lobby. If they see her like this, her career is over by morning," Zeke said, his voice back to its sharp, decisive tone. "Go to the pantry. Get some alcohol, a wet towel, and sugar. Now, Tania!"

Zeke carried her into his private executive suite—a room hidden behind the bookshelf in his office that very few people knew existed. He laid her down on the dark leather sofa.

He stood over her for a second, his chest heaving. He was supposed to be the man who felt nothing, the man who only saw people as numbers on a spreadsheet. But seeing her like this—pale, unresponsive, and shivering even in her sleep—made his hands tremble.

He remembered the way she flinched when he shouted. It wasn't the reaction of a bratty celebrity; it was the reaction of a survivor.

Minutes later, Tania rushed in with the supplies. Zeke took the towel and, with a precision that was uncharacteristically gentle, began to wipe the cold sweat from Xielle’s forehead.

"She’s having a nightmare," Tania whispered, watching Xielle’s eyelids flicker. "She hasn't had an attack this bad since she started modeling."

"Why did she have an attack?" Zeke asked, his eyes never leaving Xielle’s face.

Tania hesitated, looking at Zeke’s stern profile. "Xielle doesn't like people shouting at her. Her father... he wasn't a good man, Sir. Every time someone raises their voice, she’s back in that house. She’s back to being that little girl who thought she was going to die."

Zeke’s hand froze mid-air.

The silence that followed was suffocating. He thought about the thundering "LEAVE!" he had hurled at her. He had unknowingly used the very weapon that broke her.

"I didn't know," Zeke muttered, his voice barely audible.

Suddenly, Xielle gasped, her eyes snapping open. She didn't see the luxury suite. She didn't see the concerned look on Tania’s face. She saw the shadow of a man standing over her, and she instinctively scrambled back, hitting the arm of the sofa.

"Don't... please, don't hurt me," she sobbed, her voice raw and broken.

"Xielle, hey... it's me. It's Tania. You're safe," Tania rushed to her side, hugging her tight.

Xielle’s breathing was erratic, her eyes darting around the room until they landed on Zeke. He was standing a few feet away, his silhouette dark against the city lights outside the window. He looked like the monster in her memories.

Zeke saw the terror in her eyes—the way she looked at him like he was a predator. For the first time in his life, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest that had nothing to do with business.

He took a step back, intentionally moving into the light so she could see his face clearly.

"The food is outside," Zeke said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. It was flat, almost mechanical, but there was a strange, hidden softness to it. "Tania, make sure she eats. I'll be in the boardroom if you need anything."

He turned and walked out without looking back. He needed to leave before he did something he couldn't calculate—like reaching out to pull her into his arms.

As the door clicked shut, Xielle collapsed against Tania, her tears soaking her friend’s shoulder.

"He hates me, Tania," Xielle choked out. "He thinks I'm weak."

"No, Xielle," Tania whispered, looking at the closed door where Zeke had just stood. "I don't think he thinks you're weak at all."

Outside the room:

Zeke stood in the hallway, his back against the wall. He closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He pulled out his phone and dialed his head of security.

"Clear the parking basement. No one enters or leaves for the next hour. And delete the CCTV footage of the 15th floor for the last thirty minutes. Now."

He tucked the phone back into his pocket. He was a man of logic, and logic told him to stay away from a girl as broken as Xielle Khione. But as he looked at his hands—which still felt the warmth of her body—he knew that for the first time, his logic was failing him.

The morning light felt like an intruder as it filtered through the curtains of Xielle’s condo. Her head felt heavy, a lingering side effect of the panic attack and the lack of sleep. She wanted nothing more than to pull the duvet over her head and disappear, but her phone was already screaming with notifications.

In her world, "off days" didn't exist. Puhunan niya ang oras, and today, she was fully booked.

8:30 AM | The Talk Show Set

The studio lights were blinding, designed to wash out any imperfections and create the illusion of a flawless life. Xielle sat on the plush velvet sofa, her posture impeccable, her face a masterpiece of professional poise.

"We are here with the nation’s Muse, the face of the successful Beauty Glam launch, Xielle Khione!" the host, Lyla, announced. "Xielle, everyone is buzzing about the KLIENT runway this Sunday. You’re one of the main highlights. Are you ready to conquer the ramp?"

Xielle let out a soft, practiced laugh. "I’m nervous, Lyla, but mostly excited. KLIENT is a dream brand for any artist, so I’m giving it my 100%."

Lyla leaned in, her eyes gleaming. "Let’s talk about 'The Photo,' Xielle. A fan recently discovered an old, unreleased picture of you and Jake from years ago—looking very cozy in a small cafe. The internet is melting. Is there a 'Chapter Two' coming, or are we still on 'The End'?"

The giant screen behind them flashed the photo. It was a younger, less guarded Xielle, smiling at Jake. Her heart skipped a beat—not from kilig, but from the reminder of a version of herself she no longer recognized.

"That was a long time ago, Lyla," Xielle replied, her voice steady. "It was back in college. We attended the same school and we were really good friends."

"So, you’ve been friends since then? That’s probably why you both look so comfortable," Lyla noted.

"Yeah, that's why they think that we’re more than friends," Xielle laughed softly, playing it off.

"But seriously, you two have such strong chemistry!" the host teased.

Xielle just maintained her elegant smile. "Yeah, people say we do have."

1:30 PM | KLIENT Runway Practice

The transition from the air-conditioned studio to the cold, industrial practice hall was jarring. The air smelled of hairspray and expensive floor wax. Xielle stood with the other artists, feeling the weight of the day’s fatigue, but the moment she stepped onto the floor, her "model mode" switched on.

She was assigned a striking red bikini for the show—a piece that demanded absolute confidence.

"Okay, listen up!" the director shouted. "Jake and Xielle, you will ramp together. You’ll meet in the middle, hold the gaze for three seconds, then pivot. Give me tension. Give me a story!"

Xielle felt a phantom chill. Meeting Jake in the middle of the runway was the last thing she wanted, but she nodded. Professionalism above all.  As they practiced the walk, she could feel Jake’s gaze lingering a bit too long, but she kept her eyes forward, her stride firm and "expensive."

" You look tense, relax I'm not biting you" He said as they walked.

She didn't respond.

“Is your ‘so-called boyfriend’ jealous?” He laughed sarcastically.

She still didn't respond.

" You know what, Khione—”

" You know what, Jake? Shut up” Ani ni Xielle, cutting him off.

He smiled. " You never change" 

Inirapan lang siya ni Xielle at pumasok sa backstage. 3 set lang ang ginawa nila at nag paalam na si Xielle dahil hindi niya kinakaya ang sakit ng puson niya thank god pinayagan siya.

8:00 PM | The Sanctuary

The rest of the day was a blurred montage of live promotions, brand shoutouts, and endless retakes. By the time the van pulled up to her building, Xielle felt like a battery at 1%.

"Rest well, anak," Maxine said gently as she dropped her off.

Xielle managed a small smile before closing her door. The silence of her unit was a relief. She slumped onto the living room couch, but her day wasn't technically over. She spent the next hour scrolling, posting promotional content, and curate-ing her I* stories.

Finally, she threw her phone onto the cushion. She took a long, hot shower, letting the steam wash away the scent of studio makeup and the stress of the day.

As she crawled into bed, her body finally relaxed. 

The next day, early in the morning , she received a message from her manager. The notification on Xielle’s phone was a screenshot of a high-fashion digital poster: 

Z Luxury Fragrance: The International Collection. Underneath was a text 

from Mama Maxine that made Xielle’s head throb.

To Manager Maxine: Ma, halos mamatay na ako. Let me rest. Sabi mo last na yung soap endorsement.

From Manager Maxine: Anak, malaking brand iyon. Pang-international. This is the league you belong to. Don’t let this pass.

Xielle didn't respond.

 She threw her phone onto the silk duvet, the image of Zeke’s cold, arrogant face flashing in her mind. Just the thought of that "stubborn man" made her want to scream. Working for him as a consultant was one thing, but being the face of his brand? She’d rather spend a week in 6-inch heels without sitting down.

She shook off the irritation and headed to the bathroom. No matter how much she hated the CEO, the world expected Xielle Khione to be perfect.

10:30 AM | Hiraya Soap Launch

The venue was decorated with white lilies and soft lighting. As soon as Xielle arrived, her glam team swarmed her.

"Grabeng facecard naman yan, Xielle. No pores detected!" her makeup artist teased while applying a final touch of gloss.

Xielle just offered a small, tired smile. "Sanayan lang, Joyce."

"But seriously, did you hear the tea?" Joyce whispered, leaning in. "Rinig ko, Rain is eyeing that Z Luxury Fragrance spot. She’s already talking to her connections."

Xielle’s eyes sharpened. Just the mention of that name made her blood boil.

Xielle’s hatred for Rain wasn’t just about professional competition; it was deeply personal. Years ago, when Xielle was just a "nobody" starting out, she had crossed paths with Rain at an audition. Rain hadn't just ignored her—she had gone out of her way to humiliate her.

"Don't bother, sweetie," Rain had whispered in the dressing room back then. "You have the face of a commoner. You don't have the 'class' or the pedigree for this league. Stick to the low-budget ads. That’s where you belong."

Rain had laughed about how "hard" Xielle was trying to look wealthy. That insult had fueled Xielle's fire for years. She worked ten times harder just to prove that "class" wasn't something you were born with—it was something you earned.

"Oh? So she wants to try and apply?" Xielle asked, her voice dropping into a cool, dangerous tone.

"Oo raw. She’s confident kasi grabe ang standard doon. All their past models were from Paris or New York. Rain thinks she’s the only local who can match that vibe."

Xielle’s grip tightened on her water bottle. A smirk played on her lips. Rain thinks she’s the only one who can handle Z Luxury? Over my dead body.

11:00 AM | The Grand Entrance

"Ladies and gentlemen, let us welcome the new face of Hiraya... Xielle Khione!"

The heavy velvet curtains parted. The transition was instantaneous—the tired, annoyed girl was replaced by a radiant goddess. Xielle stepped out, her white silk dress flowing around her like water.

The camera flashes were a rhythmic assault, but she didn't blink. She waved to the media, her smile appearing warm and genuine. As she sat down to sign the documents

"Xielle, any message for your fans and the people who look up to you?" the host asked, handing her the mic.

Xielle took a breath, her expression softening into something truly heartfelt.

"I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been with me since day one," she began, her voice steady and warm. "To everyone who was told they 'don't belong' or that their dreams are too big for their background—keep going. I am standing here today because I refused to let other people's labels define me. We are all capable of being world-class, as long as we carry ourselves with grace and never forget where we came from."

The room erupted in applause. It was a beautiful, empowering message, but beneath the kindness, there was a steel-cold resolve.

While Xielle was fighting her internal battles, a different kind of tension was brewing in the glass-walled office of the Z Luxury headquarters.

Zeke sat behind his mahogany desk, the glow of his triple-monitor setup casting a sharp light on his focused features. A mountain of logistics reports for the international launch sat before him, but his mind kept flickering back to the pale girl who had collapsed on his lobby floor.

His phone buzzed, cutting through the silence of the executive suite. He checked the caller ID. It was Arthur.

"Man! Where are you?" Arthur’s voice was energetic, a complete contrast to Zeke’s tired state.

"I told you, I can't go. I have a lot of work to do," Zeke replied, leaning back into his leather swivel chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, I see... Daan ako dyan," Arthur said casually.

Zeke frowned. "Why?"

"Same way. I’ll stay there for a bit while waiting for Khione," Arthur explained.

Zeke’s hand froze mid-air. "Is she coming?"

"Yeah, I’m about to fetch her. Sabi niya pagod siya, so kailangan ng VIP service," Arthur teased.

Zeke didn't respond immediately. He looked at the reports, then at the clock. Khione. At a party. With Arthur. The thought of her surrounded by noise and crowds after her breakdown yesterday didn't sit right with him—or perhaps, it was the thought of her going with someone else.

He stood up abruptly, grabbing his blazer from the coat rack. "On second thought, I'll go."

"Oh?" Arthur’s voice was full of mischief. "A lover boy indeed."

"Shut up," Zeke muttered, his voice cold but his pace quickening. "I just need a drink."

6:30 PM | The Preparation

Back at the condo, Xielle was fresh out of the shower. The steam had cleared her head, but the fatigue still lingered in her bones. She sat at her vanity, the bright LED lights reflecting in her eyes.

She received a quick text from Arthur

“Five minutes. Be ready, Muse!”

She smiled, applying a thin layer of shimmering shadow. She chose a sleek, backless black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places—simple, but dangerously elegant. She looked like the kind of woman who didn't care about auditions or rivalries.

She grabbed her clutch and took one last look in the mirror. Her face was a perfect mask.

"I'm here downstairs. I'll wait by the elevator," Arthur’s message flashed on her screen.

Xielle took one last look in the mirror, adjusted the strap of her backless dress, and headed out. When the elevator doors slid open at the lobby, Arthur was already there, leaning against the wall. He looked effortlessly sharp in a tailored blazer, the quintessential image of a golden boy in the industry.

"Kainis!" Xielle muttered as she stepped out, seeing him look so put-together.

"You look so beautiful, Khione," Arthur countered with a grin, ignoring her grumpiness. He gallantly offered his arm and led her to his sports car. 

The ride was far from a quiet, romantic stroll; the two were bickering the entire time. Arthur was her first real friend in the industry, and while tabloids once claimed they were dating, they were really just two people who found a sanctuary in a fake world.

As soon as they walked into the venue, a chorus of whistles and teasing remarks greeted them. "Oh, kaya pala wala pa!" one of the actors shouted. "The Muse has arrived."

Arthur just laughed it off, his hand resting protectively on the small of Xielle’s back as he began the rounds. "Khione, right?" a woman in a stunning power suit approached them. "I saw you in Beauty Glam—you look extra beautiful in person. We should work together," she said, handing her a card.

"I'd love to," Xielle chatted easily, moving from fashion moguls to directors. But after half an hour of social gymnastics, her feet began to protest. She excused herself to a solo table near the balcony to catch her breath.

She was watching the city lights when Arthur approached, trailing a man whose presence seemed to suck the air out of the room. "Khione, come here," Arthur said. "I want you to meet Zeke Yuan Zhao."

Xielle’s brows knitted together in confusion. "You two are friends?"

"Yeah, since college," Arthur laughed. Zeke didn't even look at her at first. He kept his gaze on his drink, looking like a wall of granite.

"Kamayan mo naman, Zeke! Tanginang yan, be a gentleman," Arthur said, swatting Zeke’s arm. 

Slowly, Zeke shifted his gaze. "Zeke Yuan Zhao," he said, his voice a low, smooth baritone. He offered his hand.

Xielle reached out. "Xielle Khione." The moment her palm touched his, it felt like an electric current. His grip was firm, but his eyes remained ice-cold.

"I’ve heard... interesting things about Miss Khione," Zeke said, his voice dripping with hidden meaning.

"I hope what you heard about me is a good review," Xielle tilted her chin up. Arthur, sensing the thinning air, excused himself to get more drinks.

"Arthur didn't mention that you two are friends," Xielle muttered once they were alone.

"Why would he mention it?" Zeke countered.

"Never mind." Tinalikuran siya ni Xielle.

An hour later, Xielle was alone in a quiet corner, the alcohol finally blurring the edges of her vision. She swayed slightly, her head spinning from the combination of an empty stomach and sheer exhaustion.

"You look like you're having a much better time than everyone else," a voice drawled. A man Xielle didn't recognize was standing too close, smelling of heavy cologne.

"I'm just resting," Xielle murmured. She tried to stand, but the world tilted. The man stepped forward, placing a firm, unwanted hand on her bare waist. "You're definitely in no state to be alone. My car is right outside."

Xielle’s heart was hammered. The feeling of his hand triggered a flash of panic. "Let go," she whispered, her limbs feeling like lead.

Suddenly, the man’s hand was wrenched off her waist so violently he nearly lost his balance. "She told you to let go."

The voice was cold and sharp. Before Xielle could process it, she was pulled back into a broad, warm chest. The scent of sandalwood and expensive linen flooded her senses, immediately grounding her.

"Z-Zeke?" she breathed.

Zeke didn't look at her; his eyes were fixed on the stranger with a predatory intensity. "You were leaving. Now." The guy scrambled away without a word.

The tension in Zeke’s body didn't dissipate. He kept his arms locked around her, holding her upright. 

"You're a magnet for trouble, aren't you?" he muttered.

"I can walk," she lied, her voice cracking.

"No, you can't."

Before she could protest, Zeke swept her off her feet into a bridal carry. Xielle’s breath hitched, her hands instinctively clutching his shoulders.

"Zeke... people are looking," she whispered, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her flushing cheeks.

"Let them look," he replied, his pace steady as he carried her toward the exit, leaving the elite crowd in stunned silence.

The elevator ride down was a blur of muffled music and the steady thrum of Zeke’s heart against her ear. Xielle wasn't just dizzy from the drinks anymore; the heat radiating from him was making her head spin in a completely different way.

As they reached the quiet, dimly lit parking basement, Zeke didn't set her down. He walked toward a sleek, black sedan, his grip firm and steady.

"I can walk na... really," Xielle whispered, though instead of pulling away, she subconsciously snuggled closer into the crook of his neck. Her fingers, loose from the alcohol, toyed with the collar of his dress shirt.

"No, you can't. You're swaying even while I'm holding you," Zeke muttered. His voice was stern, but he didn't pull away when he felt her hot breath against his skin.

He reached the car and managed to open the passenger door, carefully lowering her into the seat. But as he tried to pull back to let her settle, Xielle didn't let go. Her arms remained looped around his neck, pulling him down with her.

"Zeke..." she pouted, her eyes half-lidded and glassy. "Ang lamig."

Zeke froze, his face inches from hers. The Arrogant Calculator was suddenly faced with a version of Xielle he had never seen—soft, vulnerable, and unexpectedly clingy.

"The heater is on, Khione. Let go," he said, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

"Ayoko," she mumbled, acting like a stubborn child. 

She tightened her hold, burying her face in his shoulder. "Stay here muna. You're warm."

Zeke let out a long, frustrated exhale, but he didn't pry her arms off. He stayed hovering over her in that awkward position, one hand resting on the car frame and the other tentatively landing on the seat behind her head.

"You're drunk," he stated flatly.

"I'm not drunk... I'm just... tired of being 'The Muse' today," she whispered against his shirt, her voice small and muffled. She began to nuzzle into his neck, her nose brushing against his skin. "Be nice to me naman, Mr. Boss Man."

Zeke’s jaw tightened. He could feel his own pulse quickening—a variable he couldn't calculate. He finally reached down, gently but firmly unlinking her fingers from behind his neck.

"Sit. Properly," he commanded, though he ended up tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear with lingering gentleness.

He shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. The entire ride to her condo was filled with Xielle’s quiet humming and her occasionally reaching over to grab the sleeve of his blazer. Every time he tried to shift gears, she would lean her head toward his shoulder, acting as if he were a giant human pillow.

"Zeke, why are you so sungit?" she asked, her voice sleepy as she gripped his arm.

"Because someone has to be the adult here," he replied, keeping his eyes strictly on the road, though he didn't pull his arm away from her grasp.

When they finally arrived at her building’s driveway, the engine hummed quietly in the background.Xielle was fast asleep, her cheek pressed against his bicep, looking completely peaceful.

Zeke looked down at her, his usual cold gaze softening just a fraction. He reached out, his thumb grazing her cheek. "You really are a lot of work, Khione," he whispered to the empty car.

He didn't wake her up immediately. For the first time in his life, the man who lived by the second decided that he could spare a few more minutes just sitting in the dark, being a pillow for the girl who hated him.

"She looks like a clingy cat," he whispered to the quiet cabin of the car, a ghost of a smile flickering on his lips before he quickly suppressed it.

He reached out, his hand hovering near her shoulder to wake her up, but his movement stopped abruptly. His gaze flickered toward the glass entrance of her building. Even through the tinted windows, he could see the tell-tale flashes of cameras and a small crowd of people lingering near the lobby.

Among them, leaning against a pillar with a frustrated expression, was Jake.

Zeke’s eyes darkened, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. If he stepped out now with a sleeping, half-drunk Xielle in his arms, the headlines would be a nightmare for her. And seeing Jake there, waiting like he had some sort of right to be, made something cold and possessive stir in Zeke’s chest.

He wasn't going to hand her over to that circus. Not tonight.

"I'll take you home," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

He shifted the car back into gear, the engine purring almost silently as he smoothly backed out of the driveway. He didn't head toward the exit of the complex but instead turned toward the private road leading to his own residence.

Xielle shifted in her sleep, her hand sliding down to grip his fingers. She let out a tiny, contented sigh, snuggling deeper into his side. Zeke looked down at their joined hands, his expression unreadable, before he turned his focus back to the road, driving away from the flashing lights and into the quiet of the night.

The parking lot of Zeke’s exclusive penthouse was eerily silent. Before the engine even cut out, he was on his phone, his voice sharp and commanding as he coordinated with the building’s security. He made it clear: no eyes, no footage, no exceptions. He wasn't about to let a single frame of this night end up on a tabloid.

Once the "all clear" was signaled, Zeke stepped out and rounded the car. He moved with practiced ease, sliding his arms under Xielle’s knees and back. She felt lighter than she looked, a fragile weight against his chest. As he carried her through the private elevator and into the expansive, minimalist space of his unit, the only sound was the steady click of his shoes on the polished floor.

He carefully lowered her onto his designer suede couch, sighing as he looked at her disheveled state.

"I'm about to throw up..." Xielle suddenly groaned, her eyes fluttering open before she sat up abruptly.

Before Zeke could even react or point her toward the bathroom, she leaned forward. The sound of her getting sick echoed in the quiet room. Zeke froze, his hand mid-air, as he watched his custom-made, imported couch become the first victim of Xielle Khione’s night out.

He sighed, pressing his palm against his forehead. 

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, though strangely, there was more resignation than anger in his voice.

"Zeke..." she called out, her voice barely a whisper, sounding small and strained.

He let out a heavy breath and knelt on the floor in front of her, ignoring the mess for a moment. He looked at her pale face, his expression softening despite himself. "Why? Can you even stand up? You need to change out of that dress," he asked, his voice low.

Instead of answering, Xielle leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. She rested her chin on his bicep, holding onto him like he was her only anchor in a spinning world.

"I don't have extra pads..." she mumbled into his shirt, her voice muffled and sleepy.

Zeke stiffened. The mention of something so personal—something that reminded him of her collapse yesterday—made his chest tighten. He felt her warmth radiating through his clothes, her heartbeat erratic against his own. He wrapped his arms around her waist, half-supporting her weight, his grip firm.

"Don't you dare do this with any other men, Xielle Khione," he warned, his voice dropping into a dark, possessive register. "Not when you're like this. Not ever."

"Hmm..." was all she managed to say, her grip tightening on him as she drifted back into a daze, completely unaware of the effect she was having on the man who was supposed to be her coldest critic.