Chapter 1 – The Famous Bodyguard

The smell of sweat and leather hung heavy in the air—familiar, almost comforting. It was the scent of focus, of repetition, of pain that felt like progress. I tightened my wraps and rolled my shoulders, stretching the stiffness out of my muscles. The gym was noisy, filled with the sound of punches hitting pads, men grunting, at mga sigaw ng mga baguhang sumasali lang para magyabang.

“Vega, ready ka na?” sigaw ng instructor, nakapamewang habang pinagmamasdan ako.

“Always,” I answered, sabay bitaw ng nakakalokong ngiti..

My sparring partner—tall, bulky, probably twice my size—grinned cockily. “Ready to eat some punches from me, sweetheart?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You wish.”

The whistle blew. He lunged fast, aiming for my side. Matalino siyang gumalaw.

“Come on, sweetheart! 'yan lang ba ang kaya mo?”

“Masiyado kang maraming sinasabi” I ducked, pivoted, and slammed my elbow right under his ribs. The sound of air leaving his lungs was satisfying. I followed up with a sweep—precise, controlled. He hit the mat before he knew what happened.

“Damn, Vega!” one of the trainees shouted, half in disbelief.

“Wala ka paring pinagbago!”

“Ikaw ang dahilan kung bakit nagkakatrauma yung mga trainees dito” Sabi ng instructor ko.

“Pasensiya na trabaho lang.” I barely laugh.

I backed off, breathing steady, heart still calm. “Next time, don’t underestimate women,” I muttered, offering him a hand up.

The instructor chuckled. “You really never disappoint, Vega. You’re a walking headline—again.”

“Tell them nagretiro na ako,” I said flatly, grabbing my towel. “They won’t believe it anyway.”

Everywhere I went, the title followed me—Alex Vega, the famous bodyguard. Ex-military, medalist, rumored to have taken down armed targets barehanded. Some called me a legend. Others called me.

Ilang taon na akong nasa field na ‘to—private security, personal protection, kung ano-ano pang tawag nila. Pero sa totoo lang, isang bagay lang ‘yun—I get paid to keep people alive.

And sometimes, to kill if I have to.

---

“Alex, sa office ni Sir, ngayon na.”

I turned. Juno—my boss’s assistant he was holding a brown envelope with a red stamp—‘Confidential.’ The moment I saw that color, I knew it wasn’t a small-time case.

“Ano nanaman yan?” I asked, pulling off my gloves.

“Special client,” he said. “And they asked for you. Personally.”

I frowned. “Ako? Bakit ako?”

He hesitated, shifting awkwardly. “Because they asked for the best. And it’s Cross Industries.”

Nanlamig bigla ang mga kamay ko. The name hit harder than any punch I’d taken. Cross Industries.

For a second, parang nanlabo ‘yung paligid. I forced a laugh—half disbelief, half panic. “You’re kidding.”

Juno shook his head. “Nope. The CEO himself. Damian Cross.”

Damian.

His name tasted bitter and familiar all at once. “Pass,” I said quickly, turning away.

“Alex, hindi ka puwedeng basta mag-pass—”

“Find someone else, Juno. Or ibigay mo kay Rafi.” Sagot ko habang tinatanggal ang gloves ko.

“Hindi pwede. Client’s orders. At isa pa, Rafu is part of your team.”

My jaw clenched. “The client doesn’t know what he’s asking for.”

Juno sighed and placed the envelope on the bench. “Then maybe you should read it first before you decide.”

---

I stared at the file for a long moment before finally sitting down. The folder felt heavy, almost taunting.

When I opened it, the first thing I saw was his photo.

Damian Cross.

Sharp jawline, perfectly combed hair, and those eyes—cold, gray, and impossible to forget. The same eyes that once looked at me like I was the only chaos he wanted in his world.

I flipped the page, forcing myself to focus on the details.

Subject: Damian Cross, CEO of Cross Industries.

Location: Manila.

Threat Level: High.

Details: Anonymous threats, suspected organized groups, possible assassination attempt.

”At ano nanaman ang ginawa mo?” Bulong ko. My chest tightened with every line. Seven years, and the universe just couldn’t let him stay gone.

“Alex?” Juno’s voice was soft now. “There’s also… compensation. Malaki.”

I didn’t look up. “Gaano kalaki?”

“Enough for—” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “Enough for your daughter’s surgery.”

That did it.

---

Hours later, pumunta ako sa ospital. The pediatric wing smelled faintly of antiseptic and vanilla—thanks to the nurses who tried to make it feel less like a place where hope was slowly bleeding out.

I pushed open the door and smiled softly. “Hey, baby.”

Marina turned to me, her little bald head peeking under her beanie. “Mommy!” she said, eyes lighting up.

“Good day?” I asked, sitting beside her bed.

She nodded eagerly. “Nurse said my white cells are behaving today.”

I laughed, brushing her cheek. “That's good to know. Keep them in line, okay?”

She giggled. “When I get better, can we go to the beach again? I miss the sand.”

My throat tightened. “Yeah, sweetheart. We will.”

I stayed beside her until she fell asleep, tracing tiny circles on her hand. Watching her fight was harder than any mission I’d ever faced. She had my fire—but her battle was one she didn’t choose.

I kissed her forehead and foc her hair. ”You'll get better baby, Gagawa ako ng paraan.”

When I stood up, I looked at her one last time and whispered, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

---

That night, sa balcony ng condo ko, pinagmamasdan ko ang lungsod. Manila was alive—neon lights, laughter, chaos. Somewhere out there, Damian Cross was living a life untouched by mine.

Until now.

”Mommy?” Napatingin ako sa likuran ko. “Marcus? bakit hindi ka pa natutulog?”

“I had a dreams again.” He simply reply.

“Can you tell me about it?” Tumabi ito saakin at niyakao ako.

”It's about dad” I froze. “But i didn't see his face, he's here and Marina is already okay. We're all having fun and suddenly i woke up.” I brush his hair.

“I'm sorry mom, i just can't help to think about him. Kung nandito siya, maayos na sana ang lagay ni Marina.”

I cupped his faced and kiss his head. “Shh.. Mommy's is doing everything i can baby. Don't worry soon enough makakasama na ulit natin ang kapatid mo.”

“Now go to sleep baby, you still have class for tomorrow.” Mabilis siyang tumayo at hinalikan ako sa pisnge bago tumakbo papunta sa kwarto.

I looked down at the file again, the inked name glaring back at me. Cross, Damian Alexander.

“Para sa’yo ‘to, baby,” I whispered. “For Marina.”

I took a long breath and made the call. “This is Vega. Tell them I’ll take the job.”

---

The next day, I stood in front of Cross Industries’ skyscraper at Bonifacio Global City. Ang taas ng building, parang sumasayad na sa langit. Sleek, modern, intimidating—just like the man who owned it.

I walked through the lobby, catching stares from the security staff. A woman in tactical boots, black blazer, and eyes that dared anyone to ask questions.

“Miss Vega,” the receptionist said politely. “Top floor. Mr. Cross is expecting you.”

’Expecting me.’ The irony almost made me laugh.

I stepped inside the elevator. The metallic doors closed, sealing me in with nothing but my reflection. My own eyes stared back at me—cold, unreadable, like I was already bracing for a hit.

The higher I went, the faster my pulse grew. My hands curled unconsciously, remembering the warmth of his touch from years ago.

I hated that my body remembered. The elevator chimed. Ding. The top floor.

Pagbukas ko palang ng pinto, mahaba at magarang hallway kaaad ang bumungad—minimalist, gray, expensive. The kind of place that didn’t just scream power—it radiated. Every step echoed. Every second felt like walking toward a past I thought I buried.

At the end of the hallway, a man was waiting outside the office door—Damian’s assistant, probably. “Miss Vega?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and pushed the door open. “He’s inside.”

---

The office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline, sunlight spilling over black marble floors. The smell of imported coffee lingered faintly in the air.

My boots clicked softly against the polished floor as I entered.

He stood near the window, his back to me—broad shoulders, expensive suit, that same quiet dominance that filled the room without saying a word.

For a heartbeat, I thought maybe he wouldn’t recognize me. That maybe, after all these years, the world had changed enough to blur me out of his memory.

But when he turned around, his gaze locked on mine—and the years fell away like dust.

The air left my lungs. Same gray eyes. Same sharp, unreadable expression.

Only now, colder. Harder.

His lips parted slightly, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

For a long second, neither of us spoke.

The silence stretched, heavy, electric.

Then his voice—low, deep, and unmistakably his—cut through the air like it owned the space between us.

“Alexandra?”