Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hannah's POV

The news of the annual corporate party hit the 12th floor like a lightning strike. In a building made of glass and cold calculations, the "Cromwell Legacy Gala" was the only night where the hierarchy supposedly blurred—though everyone knew it was just a more expensive stage for the same power plays.

The announcement appeared on every monitor in the building at exactly 9:00 AM. A sleek, animated invitation in gold and black: A Legacy of Excellence. Join us at the Grand Ballroom for the Annual Corporate Gala.

​"And so it begins," Sarah sighed, leaning back in her chair. "The one night of the year where we pretend we aren't terrified of the 40th floor while wearing shoes that pinch our toes."

​"Is it really that big of a deal?" I asked, trying to focus on my color grading.

​"It’s the only deal," Vince countered, not looking up from his timeline. "It’s where the board members scout for new favorites, and where the CEO reminds everyone exactly why he’s the king. Last year, a guy from accounting got promoted to manager just because he knew the vintage of the wine Luke was drinking. It’s a shark tank in black tie, Hannah."

​My stomach did a nervous flip. A party meant seeing Luke outside of a briefing room. It meant seeing him in an environment where "Island Luke" and "CEO Cromwell" might finally collide.

​"You should definitely go," Sarah said, eyeing me with a mischievous glint. "Especially now that you’re the talk of the floor. Everyone saw Mateo Velez walking you to the elevator yesterday. The rumors are flying faster than the stock prices."

​"It wasn't like that," I protested, though I felt the heat rising in my neck.

​"Doesn't matter what it was. It’s what it looks like," Vince added, finally turning around. "If you show up on Mateo’s arm, you’re making a statement. You’re choosing a side in a war you don't fully understand yet."

​I thought about the offer Mateo had made—the triple pay, the respect, the escape from Luke’s icy gaze. But I also thought about the phone call last night. 'It looks... familiar.'

​Throughout the day, the office was buzzing with talk of gowns, designers, and plus-ones. But for me, the gala felt like a deadline of a different kind.

​I spent the afternoon finishing my edits, but the air in the 12th floor was different now. People weren't just talking about deadlines; they were talking about "access." Who was sitting at whose table? Who was on the guest list for the after-party?

​As I was packing my bag to head home and figure out what on earth I was going to wear from my limited "Manila-professional" wardrobe, the elevator chimed.

​Mateo Velez stepped out. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket, his sleeves were rolled up, and he looked effortlessly at home in the chaotic media bullpen. He walked straight to my desk, ignoring the sudden silence of my colleagues.

​"I haven't heard back about my offer, Hannah," he said, leaning against the partition of my cubicle.

​"I'm still thinking, Mateo. It's a big decision."

​"It is," he agreed, his voice dropping so only I could hear. "But the Gala is tomorrow night. It’s the perfect place to announce you’re joining my team. Think about the statement it would make. You wouldn't be 'the girl on the secondary camera' anymore. You’d be the woman the board is betting on."

​"I don't know if I'm ready to make a statement yet," I said softly.

​Mateo straightened up, giving me a confident smile. "Then just come as my guest. No strings. Just a seat at a table where people actually listen when you speak."

​Before I could answer, the office phone on my desk rang. It was the executive line. Again.

​I picked it up, feeling Mateo’s eyes on me. "Martin speaking."

​"My office. Now."

​The line went dead. Luke didn't even wait for a response.

​I looked at Mateo. "I have to go. The CEO wants to see me."

​Mateo’s smile didn't fade, but it tightened. "He’s keeping you late again? Typical. He knows I’m talking to you, Hannah. He’s territorial over things he doesn't even know how to appreciate. Go on—don't keep the King waiting."

​I hurried up to the 40th floor. When I entered the office, the lights were dimmed, the city lights outside acting as the only real illumination. Luke was standing by the window, his back to me.

​"You’re considering Velez’s offer," he said. It wasn't a question.

​"He offered me a seat at his table for the Gala, sir," I replied, standing my ground. "And a position that values my creative input."

​Luke turned around. The shadows made his face look sharper, older. "Mateo Velez doesn't care about your 'creative input,' Martin. He cares about optics. He wants to take something—someone—that I found first."

​"You didn't 'find' me, Mr. Cromwell," I said, my voice trembling with a sudden flash of island fire. "I was already here. And if you’re referring to the island... you didn't find me there, either. I found you."

​The room went deathly silent. It was the first time I had openly referenced the crash. Luke’s expression shifted—for a split second, the CEO mask cracked, and I saw a flicker of genuine, raw confusion. He took a step toward me, his eyes searching mine in the dim light.

​"Why do you say it like that?" he whispered. "With so much... resentment?"

​"Because you're making it very easy to resent you," I said, backing toward the door. "I'll be at the Gala tomorrow, sir. But I'll be there on my own terms. I'm not an asset to be traded between you and Mateo."

​I left before he could respond. As I waited for the elevator, my heart was thundering. I didn't have a designer dress or a triple-digit salary. But for the first time in that building, I felt like the one in control.

​I was going to that party. And I wasn't going as Luke’s savior or Mateo’s protégé. I was going as Hannah Martin.

The tension of the 40th floor stayed with me all the way down to the lobby. My heart was still hammering against my ribs from the way I’d spoken to Luke, but as the elevator doors opened to the 12th floor, Sarah and Vince were waiting—not with cameras, but with their bags packed and a look of shared determination.

​"You look like you just saw a ghost or committed a crime," Sarah said, grabbing my arm before I could even reach my desk. "Either way, you need a drink and a zipper that fits. We’re going."

​"Going where?" I asked, still dazed.

​"To find you a weapon," Vince said, surprisingly joining us. "Sarah won’t stop nagging me about how your 'island aesthetic' won't survive the Gala sharks. If you’re going to walk into that room on your own terms, you can’t do it in a blazer you bought for a job interview."

​We ended up at a boutique in Greenbelt—a place where the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the price tags had too many zeros. I felt out of place, but Sarah was on a mission. She dragged me through racks of silk, tulle, and lace, while Vince sat on a velvet ottoman, looking bored but occasionally pointing at fabrics that "didn't reflect too much light for the cameras."

​"Not this," Sarah said, tossing a gold sequined dress aside. "Too much like Nicole. You need something that says 'I’m here,' but also 'I know things you don't.'"

​I stayed quiet, my mind still on the way Luke had looked at me when I said I found him. Then, tucked in a corner, I saw it. It wasn't the midnight blue of the ocean, and it wasn't the flashy gold of the city. It was a deep, muted emerald green—the color of the forest behind my father's house after a heavy rain.

​"This one," I whispered, reaching for the fabric.

​I stepped into the dressing room. As I pulled the silk up, the cool material felt like a second skin. It was modest but elegant, with a back that dipped just low enough to be modern. When I stepped out, Sarah stopped talking. Even Vince looked up from his phone.

​"Well," Vince muttered, "I take it back. You don't look like a shutterbug anymore."

​"You look like the girl who dragged a king out of a wreck," Sarah whispered, her eyes wide. "Hannah... if you walk in wearing that, Luke Cromwell isn't going to be looking at the metadata of your footage. He’s going to be looking at you."

​"I don't want him to just look," I said, catching my reflection. I looked taller, sharper. The island girl was still there, but she was armed now. "I want him to remember."

​We shared a cheap dinner of fast-food noodles afterward, sitting on a bench outside the mall like three normal people, away from the glass tower. It was the first time I felt like I had a family in Manila.

​"Just remember the warning, Hannah," Vince said, his voice dropping as the city lights flickered to life around us. "Tomorrow night, Mateo is going to try to win you over, and Luke is going to try to shut you down. Don't get caught in the middle of their egos. Just stay focused on the lens."

​"I will," I promised.

​But as I looked at the shopping bag beside me, I knew that for one night, I wouldn't be behind the camera. I was going to be the story.

**

The morning of the gala, before the chaos of hair and makeup began, my phone buzzed. My heart lifted instantly—it was the only tether I had left to the life that made sense.

​"You’d better be sitting down," Ashton’s voice crackled through the line, sounding more energized than he had in weeks.

​"Ash? What’s going on? Is everything okay at the clinic?" I asked, leaning against the window of my small apartment, looking out at the smoggy Manila horizon.

​"Better than okay. My internship supervisor just approved my rotation at the Makati Medical Center," he said, and I could practically hear the grin on his face. "I’m coming to Manila, Hannah. I’ll be there in two weeks."

​I nearly dropped my phone. "Two weeks? Ash, that’s incredible! I... I really need you here."

​"I can tell," he said, his tone softening, losing the playfulness. "I’ve been keeping up with your messages. You sound like you’re in a war zone, not a media office. How is he? Has the 'King' regained his crown yet?"

​"He’s worse than we thought, Ash. He’s cold. He’s arrogant. He treated Sarah—my colleague—like she was beneath his shoes. And he looked right at me and didn't see a thing."

​"Let him stay blind for now," Ashton said firmly. "I’m coming there to see for myself. If he’s really forgotten everything—the rescue, the island, the way he looked at you—then I’m going to be the one to remind him. No one forgets a debt like that and gets away with it. Not even a Cromwell."

​"Just be careful, Ash. This place... it changes people. It’s trying to change me."

​"It won’t," he promised. "You’re an island girl, Hannah. We’re made of salt and storm. We don't break that easily. I’ll see you soon. Don't let those sharks bite before I get there."

​As I hung up, a new kind of resolve settled in my chest. Ashton was coming. The witness to the real Luke was on his way. I looked at the emerald green dress hanging on my door.

​Tonight wasn't just about surviving a party anymore. It was about holding the line until the truth arrived.