Hiding the Trillionaire Heirs

Daisy

The rain poured outside, a drumbeat against the corrugated iron roof of our tiny sari sari store. Each drop felt like a tiny hammer, pounding on my already aching head. 

My hands trembled, the cheap plastic spoon rattling against the chipped mug. Coffee, black and bitter, did nothing to clear the fog. My stomach churned, not from the coffee, but from the fear that coiled tight in my gut.

“Daisy, Hija, you okay?” Grandma's voice, soft like a worn blanket, came from the back. She was probably sorting the dried fish, humming a old kundiman.

I swallowed hard, the bitterness of the coffee a welcome distraction from the taste of dread. 

“Just a bit tired, Grandma. Long day.” A lie. The day had barely started, but the night, ah, the night had been an eternity.

I pushed away from the counter, the smell of stale soap and dried noodles suddenly suffocating. I needed air. I needed to think. My eyes, swollen and red, caught my reflection in the dusty mirror. A stranger stared back, pale and haunted. Was this me? The Daisy who laughed easily, whose heart felt like a sunbeam? Now, it felt like a stone.

The news report, flashing across the old television screen in Mang Tonyo’s carinderia, replayed in my mind. The crisp, authoritative voice of the newscaster, the polished, unsmiling face on the screen. 

"Augustus Caesar, CEO of Caesar Holdings, announced a record breaking quarter…"

 My fingers went cold. That face. The eyes. The sharp, unyielding jaw. It was him. My Gus. The Gus who fixed my leaky faucet, who shared instant noodles with me in the tiny apartment. The Gus who pretended to be a struggling artist, sketching the bustling streets of Manila with charcoal smudges on his hands.

“He’s a monster, Daisy,” Elena, my best friend, had whispered, her face pale. “They say he buys companies just to crush them. He owns half of Makati. He… he’s ruthless.”

I had laughed then, a light, dismissive sound. “You’re watching too many telenovelas, Elena. My Gus? He’s just a simple man. A bit quiet, yes, but kind. He helps old Aling Nena carry her groceries.”

Elena shook her head, her eyes wide with concern. 

“No, Daisy. This is real. Augustus Caesar. The trillionaire. He never loses. He always gets what he wants.”

A cold wave washed over me. "He always gets what he wants." The words echoed, a chilling prophecy. What did he want from me? My simple life? My simple heart? Or was it something else? Something darker, colder?

Last night, I confronted him. Or tried to. He was sitting on the floor of my tiny living room, sketching a portrait of me, his brow furrowed in concentration. The lamp cast long shadows, making his usually gentle features seem stark, chiseled.

“Gus,” I began, my voice a mere whisper. My heart thumped against my ribs, a trapped bird.

He looked up, his eyes, usually soft when they met mine, now held a glint I hadn’t noticed before. A glint of something sharp, something powerful. “Yes, Wife?” he said, his voice a low rumble.

I clutched my hands together, the news report burning behind my eyelids. “Who are you, Gus?”

He paused, his charcoal pencil still. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The air grew thick, heavy with unspoken things. 

“What do you mean, Daisy?” His voice was calm, too calm.

“I saw you on the news. Augustus Caesar. The… the CEO.” My voice cracked, raw with betrayal. “You’re not Gus. You’re him.”

His gaze sharpened, boring into me. The soft artist was gone. In his place was a man I didn’t know, a man whose eyes held the cold calculating depth of the ocean. He rose slowly, his towering frame suddenly intimidating in my small space.

“So you know,” he stated, not a question, but a declaration. His voice was flat, devoid of the warmth I had come to love.

Tears welled, blurring his imposing figure.

 “Why did you lie? Why?”

He took a step towards me, his presence filling the room, pushing the air out of my lungs. “It was necessary.”

“Necessary for what?” I choked out, my voice rising. “To trick me? To play with me? Do you do this to everyone, Mr. Caesar? Pretend to be someone you’re not?”

His eyes narrowed. “I never lied about my feelings for you, Daisy.”

“Lies!” I screamed, the word tearing from my throat. 

“Everything was a lie! Your apartment, your job, your… your life! You made me fall in love with a ghost!”

He reached for me, his hand closing around my wrist. His touch, once comforting, now felt like a vice. “Listen to me, Daisy.”

I yanked my hand away, recoiling. “Don’t touch me! You’re a monster! Elena was right. You just take what you want. You don’t care about anyone!”

His face hardened, losing all trace of the man I knew. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“No!” I cried, shaking my head violently. “You care about getting what you want! And now… now you want me. My simple life. My… my baby.” The last word slipped out, a desperate plea, a confession I hadn’t meant to make.

His eyes widened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. Surprise? Anger? Possession?

“Baby?” His voice was a low growl, dangerous.

I pressed my hands against my still flat stomach, a protective gesture. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through me. He would take everything. He would take my child and discard me. He would leave me with nothing. This was how men like him operated. They consumed, they conquered.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Our baby.”

He stared at me, his gaze intense, unblinking. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. I saw the gears turning in his powerful mind, calculating, strategizing. I knew what he was thinking. He would claim it. He would take my child, his heir, and I would be nothing but a forgotten stepping stone in his ruthless ascent.

No. I would not let him.

I spun around, a sudden surge of adrenaline propelling me. I had to go. Now. Before he could make a move. Before he could trap me.

“Daisy, wait!” His voice boomed, sharp and commanding.

I didn’t look back. I ran. Out of my small apartment, down the creaking stairs, past the startled neighbors. The night swallowed me, the humid Manila air thick against my skin. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I had to disappear.

Now, standing in the sari sari store, the memory of that night was a fresh wound. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, a small bump barely visible beneath my loose dress. My secret. My precious secret. He couldn’t know. Not truly. He couldn’t have it.

“Daisy, you’re pale. You sick?” Grandma’s hand, warm and calloused, touched my forehead.

I flinched, a jolt of panic. “No, Grandma. Just… just a bit dizzy.”

She clucked her tongue. “You need to eat more. You’re getting too thin.”

I forced a smile, a brittle mask. 

“I’m fine, Grandma.”

But I wasn’t. I was trapped. Trapped by a man who was a monster in a prince’s disguise. Trapped by a secret that could destroy me.

I looked around the small store, my home, my life. It was all I had. And I would protect it. I would protect my child. From him.

My decision solidified, hard and cold. I would leave. I would disappear. I would become a ghost, just like the man I once loved.

I walked to the back, to the small room I shared with Nanay. My old backpack lay on the floor, half forgotten. I pulled it open, my hands moving with a frantic urgency. A few clothes, my small savings, the faded photo of my parents. Essentials. I would leave a note for Nanay. A lie, of course. That I found a job in the province, a good opportunity. She would worry, but she would understand.

I couldn't risk staying. Not one more day. He would find me. I knew he would. He always got what he wanted. But not this time. Not my baby.

I zipped the backpack, the sound loud in the quiet room. My heart hammered, a frantic drum. I took one last look at the familiar walls, the worn wooden floor. Goodbye, Nanay. Goodbye, Manila. Goodbye, Gus.

I slipped out of the house, the rain still falling, washing the streets clean. My footsteps were silent, blending with the rhythm of the city. I hailed a jeepney, its bright colors a stark contrast to my internal darkness.

As the jeepney pulled away, winding through the narrow, crowded streets, I saw a sleek black car parked a little distance from our sari sari store. 

Too far to be a coincidence. My breath hitched. A dark figure stood beside it, tall and imposing, watching. Even from this distance, I knew those shoulders. That posture.

Augustus Caesar.

He saw me. His head tilted, a silent acknowledgment. And then, he smiled. A slow, predatory smile that sent a chill down my spine. He knew. He knew I was running. And he was letting me go. For now. My blood ran cold. He had played me all along. And I had just walked into his trap.