Chapter One

Carrie Tuazon adjusted the strap of her leather bag as she darted across Ayala Avenue, nearly colliding with a motorcycle weaving through traffic. Horns blared, sirens wailed, and the humid Manila air clung to her skin. It was barely eight in the morning and already the city was alive with its usual chaos.

"Excuse me!" she snapped at a cab that brushed too close to her heels. The driver didn't hear her, his windows rolled up, music thumping inside.

Her condo in Salcedo Village was supposed to give her walking-distance access to the office, but walking in Makati felt more like an obstacle course. Jeepneys swerved, sidewalks cracked under her heels, and every pedestrian crossing was a gamble.

Her phone buzzed again. Sofia, her assistant.

Carrie answered, panting slightly. "Sofia, I'm crossing Makati Avenue right now. What's the emergency?"

Sofia's voice was tight. "Ma'am Carrie, it's Anita Sandoval. She pulled out of the feature."

Carrie stopped on the pedestrian island as horns screamed around her. "What do you mean pulled out? The cover shoot is in two days."

"She says she's heartbroken. She doesn't want to be photographed or interviewed. I begged her but she refused."

Carrie let out a sharp breath. Anita Sandoval was supposed to be the crown jewel of their next issue. Restaurateur, philanthropist, darling of Manila's elite. The theme was Power Women Redefined. Without her, the issue was in trouble.

By the time Carrie reached the glass entrance of the L. V. Lorenzo Building, she had already started listing potential replacements in her head. The lobby gleamed with Italian marble, a silent reminder of the money that ruled this city. She strode past the security desk and into the elevators, phone pressed to her ear.

"Listen, Sofia. Find me alternatives. CEOs, artists, socialites. Line up names and I'll decide in an hour."

"Yes, ma'am."

The elevator doors closed, sealing her inside. Carrie leaned her head against the cool glass wall. Heartbreak. What kind of excuse was that? In her world, heartbreak was not a reason. It was material.

Her lips curved into a humorless smile. "If Anita thinks an issue of Echelon dies with her love life, she's mistaken."

Inside her office, orchids stood neatly on her desk. The windows stretched across the skyline, a view of Makati pulsing with power. Carrie dropped into her chair and dialed another number. This time, family.

The line rang twice before a familiar, flamboyant voice answered. "Darling, do you know how hard it is to recover from a charity after-party? My liver is writing me complaint letters."

"Dominic," Carrie said. "I need intel."

"Good morning to you too," Dominic quipped. "You really should try calling just to say hi. It's exhausting being everyone's gossip hotline."

"Dom, please. Anita Sandoval just canceled. She said she's heartbroken. Do you know anything?"

Ice clinked against a glass on his end. Dominic's voice dropped, heavy with glee. "Oh, I know. The rumor mill has been busy. Anita was seeing someone. Not just anyone. Someone very inconvenient."

Carrie's pulse quickened. "Who?"

Dominic chuckled. "Andrew Lorenzo."

The name landed like a blow. Carrie turned toward the window where the plaque gleamed in polished gold: L. V. Lorenzo. The family that owned the building. The family name carved into the bones of Makati.

"Dom. Are you saying Anita's heartbreak is because of him?"

"Darling, when Andrew Lorenzo is involved, heartbreak is practically guaranteed. He is Makati's most dangerous pastime."

Carrie gripped her phone tighter. Andrew Lorenzo. Playboy polo prince. Heir to a multi-billion dollar empire of real estate, malls, and oil. The city itself seemed to bend around his family's name. His towers pierced every skyline. His malls stretched across provinces. His tankers carried fuel across oceans.

He wasn't just another headline. He was the dynasty.

And now, because of one woman's broken heart, he was about to become her problem.