KABANATA 3

Third Person POV

“Hindi na matutuloy ang endorsement shoot next week with Onirique cosmetics dahil nagpalit na sila ng bagong endorser,”

Those words hit Luna harder than the hangover she was still nursing. Mas masakit pa ‘yon kaysa sa pagkakagising niya sa isang VIP suite na hindi niya maalala kung paano siya napunta roon.

Mahigit isang oras din siyang nakatulog at pagkagising niya, saka lang nag-sink in lahat sa kanya ang nangyaring aberya.

Nakaupo siya sa plush teal couch ng condo niya, nakabalot sa oversized hoodie at may ice pack sa noo. Wala pang kalahating araw ang lumipas mula nang mabasa nila ni Cheska ang mga balitang kumalat online, pero parang isang linggo na siyang niluluto sa impyerno ng social media.

Cheska paced across the living room like a caffeinated storm. “This is the third brand to back out, Luna! Tatlo. Tatlo in less than six hours!”

“Ano ba kasi ang issue nila? Wala naman akong pinapatay,” Luna muttered, chewing on a menthol candy like it was stress relief.

“Hindi mo kailangang pumatay para ma-cancel, girl. Isang suggestive na photo lang while looking hungover beside a mystery guy? Boom. Trending. Wala nang audition, diretso drop.”

“Napaka-judgmental talaga ng mga netz,” she shrugged, as if the scandal wasn’t currently setting her career on fire.

“Luna!” Cheska practically screamed, throwing a rolled-up magazine onto the couch beside her. “This is serious!”

Luna picked up the magazine, narrowing her eyes at the front page. "The Actress and the Mysterious Man: Who Was She With?" screamed the headline, paired with a zoomed-in, grainy photo of her exiting the VIP lounge, hair disheveled, wearing oversized shades, and looking very much like a woman sneaking out from something not wholesome.

“Unflattering,” she commented, pointing to her visible eye bags. “Bakit ‘di nila ginamit ‘yung naka-angle ako sa kaliwa? At least dun, kita yung cheekbones ko.”

Cheska groaned and plopped herself beside Luna, burying her face in her hands. “I’m going to lose my job. Mapapatalsik ako bilang manager mo dahil sa kabaliwan mo.”

“Overreacting ka naman. Pwede pa nating i-spin ‘to into something artsy. Like... Luna Ferrer: raw and vulnerable human.”

“Girl, mas gusto ng mga brand ‘yung Luna Ferrer: polished, wholesome, endorser ng whitening soap at anti-aging cream! Hindi ‘yung mukhang galing sa one-night stand na hindi mo maalala!”

Luna fell silent. She hated that part—because it was true. Hindi niya maalala at hindi niya alam kung ano ang nangyari. She’s an artist for Pete’s sake, at kahit na hindi niya gawing big deal yung nangyari kagabi, iba pa din ang iisipin ng mga tao.

Cheska stood again and opened her laptop on the center table. “Okay. I made a damage-control plan. Tatlo lang ang option natin right now.”

Luna groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Kung ayaw mong tuluyang mabaon ang career mo sa hukay, then yes.” She clicked a few things, then turned the screen toward Luna.

PLAN A: Deny everything.

Say nothing happened and blame photoshop, fake news, etc.

High risk: May mga photos na at baka may lalabas pang iba.

Possible backlash: Called out for lying.

PLAN B: Apologize and disappear.

Lie low for six months. Let the storm pass.

Pros: Quietly survive the scandal.

Cons: You lose current roles, endorsements, and momentum.

PLAN C: Face the truth and fix it.

Talk to the guy. Work together. Clear the air.

-Coordinate PR strategy.

-High risk but highest chance of redemption.

Luna leaned back, pouting. “Plan D: Magbakasyon ako sa Bali, mag-yoyoga o di kaya'y maghanap ng mayamang foreigner na walang pake sa mga Pilipinang trending sa T*****r.”

Cheska gave her a death glare.

“Fine,” Luna muttered. “Ano nga ulit yung pangalan nung lalaking ‘yon?”

“Damon. Damon Villaruel. Dr. Damon Villaruel,” Cheska said, enunciating the “doctor” like it held weight.

Damon Villaruel is a brilliant surgeon with a reputation as cold and unapproachable. Always in sharp suits or scrubs, he walks like time owes him something—focused, distant, and always busy. He rarely smiles, speaks only when necessary, and handles people like problems to be solved. He's known for his short temper and no-nonsense attitude, many see him as intimidating, even heartless. To the public, he’s a man married to his career, too logical for love and too guarded for vulnerability.

“Nag-iisang anak siya ng medical empire. VVIP ‘yon kaya walang duda na ang bigat ng issue. High-profile ka at high-profile din siya. And yet neither of you has released a statement. Alam mo bang may mga netizen na nagsasabing baka paid scandal daw ‘to para mag-promote ng movie?”

“Kaso wala naman akong bagong movie.” kunot noong sambit ni Luna.

“Exactly.”

Luna stood and began pacing now, tugging at her hoodie sleeves. “Can I call him instead at pakiusapan nalang?”

Cheska handed her a sticky note. “Here’s his hospital main branch sa Makati. Hindi ko nahanap ang personal number niya, so wala kang choice kundi to talk to him in person. Kung ayaw niya makipag-usap, then we’ll go with Plan B.”

Luna looked at the paper, then at her manager-turned-life-coach. “Are you seriously suggesting I barge into a surgeon’s workplace and say, ‘Hi, remember me? We might have accidentally started a scandal together?”

Cheska deadpanned, “Kung may iba pang paraan, edi sana sinabi ko na. Gusto mo ba talagang isalba ang career mo?"

She responded with a deep sigh.

NAKATAYO SI LUNA sa harap ng salamin ng banyo, hawak ang lipstick habang nag-iisip kung kailangan ba talagang mag-retouch kung pupunta lang siya sa ospital. Hindi naman ito date at mas laong hindi rin ito photoshoot.

It was... crisis mode.

“Bakit parang ako pa ‘yung gagawa ng peace offering?” she muttered to herself. “Siya ang lalaki sa picture kaya dapat siya ang lumapit.”

But no. That wasn’t how it worked.

She applied a neutral-toned lipstick, tied her hair in a low ponytail, and grabbed her bag. She’d call a driver instead of driving. Baka kasi kung saan na naman siya magpunta kapag siya ang nagdrive, paniguradong mah-high blood na naman sa kanya si Cheska, or worse, baka madawit na naman siya sa panibagong gulo.

As she stepped out, her phone buzzed again. A notification from one of her fan pages appeared.

New post: #LunaScandal update – netizens claim mysterious man is engaged.

She froze.

Engaged?

She clicked the link and scrolled through the comments. No names. No confirmation. Just screenshots and speculative captions. But still—if there was truth to it, this was about to get a whole lot messier.

She glanced at the sticky note Cheska had handed her earlier, fingers curling tightly around it until the paper crumpled in her fist.

“Damon Villaruel,” she whispered. “You better be worth all this trouble.”