Chapter 2 — Mr. Vale

ELIANA

“Mr. Vale?”

Paulit-ulit na umikot sa isip ko ang pangalan habang nakatayo ako sa harap ng administration office.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit parang ayaw gumalaw ng mga paa ko.

Maybe because deep inside, alam kong once I walked through that door, hindi na magiging ordinary ang araw na ito.

“Miss Reyes?”

Napalingon ako sa staff member.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Vale is waiting for you.”

I glanced at Maya.

She immediately shook her head.

“No.”

Napakunot-noo ako.

“Maya—”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Maya.”

“Girl, hindi normal 'to.”

“I know.”

“Then don't go.”

Tumingin ako sa closed office door.

“Maybe there's a reasonable explanation.”

“Reasonable?”

She pointed at my phone.

“The creepy messages?”

Napatingin ako sa screen.

Nandoon pa rin ang tatlong messages.

You shouldn't trust everyone who smiles at you, Eliana.

Especially the ones who pretend they don't know you.

I'll see you soon.

My stomach tightened.

“I'll just ask him directly.”

“Elle—”

“Five minutes.”

Maya sighed.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

Then she grabbed my wrist.

“But I'm staying right here.”

I smiled faintly.

“Thank you.”

I knocked.

Three times.

Nothing.

I knocked again.

“Come in.”

His voice.

My heartbeat immediately quickened.

I opened the door.

And there he was.

Adrian Vale.

The man from last night.

The man who had looked at me as though he had already memorized every detail of my face.

He was sitting behind the large desk near the window.

There were several documents in front of him, but he wasn't reading them.

His attention was completely on me.

“Close the door.”

I didn't move.

“Why?”

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“You came here because you wanted answers.”

“Yes.”

“Then close the door.”

I looked behind me.

Maya was still standing outside.

She gave me a look that clearly said don't do anything stupid.

I slowly closed the door.

But I didn't lock it.

Adrian noticed.

Of course he did.

“Sit.”

“I'd rather stand.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Still stubborn.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?”

He leaned back.

“I said you're stubborn.”

“You don't know me.”

His expression changed.

Barely.

But I saw it.

That tiny pause.

That almost invisible reaction.

“Don't I?”

The room suddenly felt colder.

I crossed my arms.

“Who are you?”

“Adrian Vale.”

“I already know your name.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I want to know why you're here.”

He looked at me silently.

“Business.”

“With the university?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you know my name?”

No answer.

“Why did you tell me someone was following me?”

Still nothing.

“And how did you know where I live?”

His eyes sharpened.

“I never said I knew where you lived.”

I froze.

He was right.

He hadn't.

But that wasn't an answer.

“You knew my name.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I have my reasons.”

I let out an irritated breath.

“That's not an explanation.”

“It wasn't meant to be.”

I stared at him.

Who talks like that?

He looked completely calm.

Not nervous.

Not defensive.

Almost as if he had anticipated every question I would ask.

“You sent those messages.”

It wasn't a question.

He didn't deny it.

“Yes.”

My jaw tightened.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted your attention.”

“You could have just talked to me.”

“I did.”

“Last night?”

“Yes.”

“That wasn't exactly a normal introduction.”

“I wasn't trying to make a normal introduction.”

My heart skipped.

“Then what were you trying to do?”

He stood.

Slowly.

He was taller than I remembered.

Much taller.

And the moment he walked around the desk, I instinctively stepped backward.

He noticed.

He stopped.

He didn't come any closer.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You're lying.”

“Maybe because you're intimidating.”

His lips curved.

“Good.”

I frowned.

“Good?”

“It means you're paying attention.”

“What do you want from me?”

His expression suddenly became unreadable.

“Nothing.”

I almost laughed.

“Nothing?”

“Not yet.”

The words sent an uncomfortable chill through me.

“Not yet?”

He walked toward the window instead.

“Your university has partnered with one of my companies for a new scholarship and internship program.”

“So?”

“You were selected.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“You're one of the students who qualified for the program.”

“I didn't apply.”

“You didn't need to.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It does if you know who made the selection.”

I stared at him.

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He turned toward me.

“Because you're qualified.”

Something about his answer bothered me.

“You could have just sent an email.”

“I could have.”

“But you didn't.”

“No.”

“Why?”

His eyes held mine.

“Because I wanted to meet you.”

Silence.

My heart started beating faster.

“Why?”

He didn't answer.

Instead, he picked up a folder from his desk.

“Your academic record is excellent.”

He opened it.

“You've maintained high grades despite working part-time.”

My brows furrowed.

“How do you know that?”

“You have a scholarship.”

“So?”

“You almost lost it last semester.”

I stared at him.

“How do you know that?”

He continued as if I hadn't spoken.

“You've been covering your own expenses.”

My hands curled into fists.

“You've been investigating me.”

His eyes lifted from the folder.

“I prefer the word research.”

“It's the same thing.”

“Not quite.”

“It is when you do it without my permission.”

He closed the folder.

“You're right.”

That surprised me.

I expected an argument.

Instead, he simply acknowledged it.

“You shouldn't have done that,” I said.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

His expression hardened.

For the first time, the calm mask slipped.

Just slightly.

“Because I needed to know.”

“Know what?”

He stared at me.

“Everything.”

The room went silent.

I swallowed.

“Everything about what?”

“You.”

My heart pounded.

I didn't know what scared me more—

His answer.

Or the way he said it.

Not like a joke.

Not like a flirtation.

Like a statement of fact.

I moved toward the door.

“I think this conversation is over.”

“Your father is still working at the same company.”

I stopped.

My hand froze on the doorknob.

Slowly, I turned around.

“What did you say?”

Adrian remained where he was.

“Your father.”

My voice became colder.

“Don't talk about him.”

“I know what happened.”

My chest tightened.

“You don't know anything.”

“I know enough.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You don't.”

He took one step forward.

“Eliana—”

“Don't.”

He stopped.

I could feel tears threatening to form, but I refused to let them fall.

My father had been gone for years.

And nobody talked about him.

Not if they wanted to stay in my life.

“He made mistakes,” Adrian said quietly.

My eyes burned.

“You have no right.”

“I know.”

“Then stop.”

His jaw tightened.

“Fine.”

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said something that made me look at him again.

“But what happened to your father wasn't an accident.”

My breathing stopped.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked at me.

“You were told it was an accident.”

“Yes.”

“It wasn't.”

I stared at him.

“No.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know what I was told.”

“And I'm telling you that you were lied to.”

My head started spinning.

“By whom?”

He didn't answer.

“Adrian.”

The moment his name left my lips, something changed in his expression.

Like he wasn't expecting me to say it.

I stepped closer.

“Who lied to me?”

He looked away.

“That's not a conversation for today.”

“You brought it up!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You can't just throw something like that at me and refuse to explain!”

“I can.”

“Why?”

“Because you're not ready.”

I laughed bitterly.

“I'm not ready?”

“Yes.”

“You don't get to decide that!”

“No.”

His voice became softer.

“But I do get to decide when the truth becomes more dangerous than the lie.”

I couldn't respond.

He walked back to his desk and placed the folder inside a drawer.

“Go home.”

“What?”

“Go home, Eliana.”

“You're dismissing me?”

“Yes.”

“You're unbelievable.”

“I've been called worse.”

I opened the door.

Before leaving, I turned back.

“I'm going to find out everything.”

He looked at me.

“I know.”

“And I'm going to find out what you have to do with my father.”

His gaze didn't move.

“I'm counting on it.”

I left.

The moment the door closed behind me, I released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Maya immediately stood.

“What happened?”

“Let's go.”

“Elle—”

“Now.”

She looked at my face and immediately stopped asking questions.

We walked away from the office.

But halfway down the hallway, I looked back.

The door was still closed.

I should have kept walking.

Instead, I wondered—

Who exactly was Adrian Vale?

And why did he know so much about my life?

---

ADRIAN

The door closed.

Silence filled the room.

I stood beside the desk, staring at the empty space where she had been.

She was different from what I remembered.

Stronger.

More stubborn.

More beautiful.

And far more dangerous to me than I had anticipated.

I picked up the folder again.

On the cover was one name.

ELIANA MARIE REYES

Inside were years of information.

Her school records.

Her address history.

Her father's employment history.

Her mother's medical records.

Her friendships.

Her habits.

Places she visited.

People she trusted.

Everything.

I had spent months making sure no one could get close to her.

Yet somehow—

I was the one who had gotten too close.

I opened the last page.

A photograph was clipped to it.

A much younger Eliana.

Maybe sixteen.

Standing beside her father.

I stared at the photograph.

Then at the small note underneath.

TARGET: PROTECTED

My jaw tightened.

I remembered the first time I saw her.

She didn't know me.

She shouldn't have.

That was the entire point.

I wasn't supposed to enter her life.

Not yet.

But after last night, things had changed.

Someone had followed her.

Someone who shouldn't have known she was under my protection.

I reached for my phone.

“Lucas.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Find the motorcycle from last night.”

“Already working on it.”

“And the man?”

“We're trying to identify him.”

“Try harder.”

A pause.

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call.

My phone rang again.

Unknown number.

I answered.

“Speak.”

A distorted voice came through.

“You're getting too close.”

I didn't react.

“Who is this?”

“You know exactly who.”

“I don't have time for games.”

“You should.”

The voice laughed softly.

“Because if you keep protecting her…”

I glanced toward the door.

“…they'll know she's important.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

A pause.

“Not yet.”

My eyes narrowed.

The exact words I had used with Eliana.

Then the caller said—

“Ask yourself, Adrian…”

I remained silent.

“…why did they wait all these years to come after her?”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen.

For the first time that night, uncertainty entered my mind.

Not about myself.

Not about Eliana.

But about the people watching us.

I walked toward the window.

Below, students were leaving the university.

And then I saw her.

Eliana.

Walking beside Maya.

She was laughing at something her friend had said.

She looked completely unaware.

Completely safe.

I watched until she disappeared beyond the gate.

Then I whispered the words I'd been refusing to admit for months.

“This was never supposed to become personal.”

I closed my eyes.

Too late.

Because it already was.

And if anyone tried to hurt her—

I would make sure they regretted ever learning her name.

---

ELIANA

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I kept thinking about my father.

About Adrian.

About the message.

About the motorcycle.

And about the way Adrian had looked at me.

I reached for my phone.

No new messages.

I sighed and placed it on my bedside table.

Then—

Bzzzt.

My phone vibrated.

Unknown Number.

I hesitated before opening it.

There was only one sentence.

«You shouldn't have trusted Mr. Vale.»

My heart stopped.

Another message arrived.

«Because he isn't the man you should be afraid of.»

I stared at the screen.

Then another message appeared.

«You should be afraid of the people he's trying to protect you from.»

I sat up.

My hands were shaking.

Then came the final message.

«Ask him what happened seven years ago.»

I stared at the screen.

Seven years ago.

That was the year my father died.

My phone slipped from my hand.

And for the first time since meeting Adrian Vale—

I wasn't afraid of him.

I was afraid of the truth he was hiding.