Ch. 2: Blind date

Ingrid Alessia's Point of View

The next day came too fast.

Halos hindi ako nakatulog. Ang bigat sa dibdib, ang gulo sa isip. Pagod na ang katawan ko, pero mas pagod ang utak ko sa kaiisip kung paano ko haharapin ang lalaking pilit na itinutulak sa’kin ng pamilya ko. Blind date daw, sabi nila, pero para sa akin, para akong papunta sa sariling bitayan.

I wore my best armor a white silk blouse na perfect ang fitting sa katawan ko, tailored black trousers, and a lipstick shade called Power Play. Matagal ko nang binili ang lipstick na ’to pero ngayon ko lang ginamit. I needed to look like I had it all together, kahit totoo, durog-durog na ako sa loob.

My driver opened the car door and I stepped out in four-inch heels na parang kutsilyo sa bawat hakbang. The hotel lounge was dimly lit and luxurious, with mahogany panels, gold accents, ambient jazz music, and crystal chandeliers na parang lumulutang sa ere. Every detail screamed wealth, status, and power. It was the kind of place where deals were made and lives were sold.

Tumigil ako sandali sa entrance. Bawat pintig ng puso ko parang bomba. Then I walked in, heels clicking against the polished marble floor, every step calculated, every breath measured.

And then I saw him. Nasa dulo ng lounge, nakaupo like he owned the whole goddamn building. One leg crossed over the other, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark hair was neat, but not stiff. His eyes were cold, like frost clinging to the glass. The pictures didn’t do him justice. He was painfully beautiful in a terrifying way. Dangerous.

Leonhardt Dietrich Moretti.

Tangínang 'yan. He looked up the moment I entered as if he felt me arrive. Our eyes met. For a split second, I saw it, something in his gaze faltered. As if someone had sucker-punched him in the chest. Pero nawala rin agad. The mask returned. Sterile. Impeccably indifferent.

Tumayo siya, and said in a voice like crushed velvet, smooth, but laced with quiet danger, “Ingrid Alessia Romano. So this is what desperation looks like.”

Napakagandang pagbati, ‘di ba? I smiled, sweet and venomous. “Leonhardt Moretti. So this is what arrogance dressed in designer looks like.”

Umupo ako sa tapat niya. Legs crossed, chin high. We were two players entering a battlefield, both pretending we weren’t already bleeding. The silence between us was thick. Parang dalawang bagyong nag-aabang kung sino ang unang aatake.

“So,” I began, keeping my tone light like we were two people on a casual date. “Are we supposed to pretend this is normal? Order coffee? Talk about favorite colors?”

His lips curled, almost a smile, pero walang kahit katiting na warmth. “You can pick the flavor of your poison. I don’t mind.”

“Perfect. I’ll have betrayal with a side of humiliation then.” I leaned back. “Or is that already your specialty?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “If we’re both so disgusted by this, why are we even here?”

“Because our parents sold us off like stocks. Traded us for power. Influence.” The air between us thickened, a slow-burning fuse ready to explode. 

He nodded slowly. “Because our lives were never ours to begin with.”

His words hit harder than I expected. For a few seconds, tahimik lang kami. Like two broken souls forced to sit across each other, pretending we had a choice in this doomed arrangement.

“I don’t need a wife,” he snapped, his tone flat, clinical. “I need an ally. One who knows how to stay in line.”

Napaangat ang kilay ko sa sinabi niya. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice cut through the air like ice. “This marriage will happen, Ingrid. But don’t expect love. Don’t expect warmth. I have nothing left for anyone.”

My blood boiled. “You think I’m here for your warmth? Please. Kung ako lang masusunod, I’d rather rot alone in a one-bedroom condo with three dogs and zero regrets kaysa pakasalan ang isang ice sculpture na kagaya mo.”

Napataas rin siya ng kilay niya. “Then why are you still here?”

Because my family is drowning in debt. Because my father is dying this marriage is our last bargaining chip. Because I don’t have a fucking choice. Pero hindi ko sinabi ’yon. Hindi ko siya bibigyan ng satisfaction na ‘yon.

I leaned forward, meeting his eyes without flinching. “I’ll marry you, Mr. Moretti. I’ll wear the ring, smile for the cameras, and play the part. But make no mistake. I am not your pawn.”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then I suppose this will be fun.”

No. This will be war. The waiter arrived with our drinks, coffee for me, scotch for him. Neither of us touched it.

“So,” he started casually, “have you ever lied on camera before?”

I smiled bitterly. “I’ve lied in court. Cameras are easier.”

Leonhardt actually laughed. Dry, hollow. The sound of someone who had long forgotten what real joy felt like.

Tinitigan ko siya ng mariin. Behind the pristine suit, the sharp features, the razor-sharp tongue, there was something else. A fracture. A quiet ache. Parang sugat na hindi na gumagaling. He was cold, yes, but I wondered if he was once warm before the world bled him dry.

Pero hindi iyon mahalaga ngayon. Hindi ko pwedeng kalimutan kung anong klaseng laro ang pinasok ko.

He checked his watch, silver and sleek. “We have a press shoot in two days. Engagement announcement. Your team will receive the full schedule later.”

“I haven’t said yes,” I reminded him.

“You don’t have to. Your presence here is enough.”

Tumayo ako habang ang puso ko ay kumakabog, parang sasabog na sa dibdib ko. “You may have power, Moretti. But you don’t own me.”

I turned to leave, heels clicking, the weight of everything catching up to me, pero huminto ako nang marinig ko ang pangalan ko.

“Ingrid.” His voice was laced with the promise of ruin, so dangerous.

“If you walk away now,” he said slowly, “you’ll lose everything. You won’t get another offer. Not from me. Not from anyone powerful enough to save your family.”

I turned, slowly. Our eyes locked again. Mine burning, his ice. “And if I stay, what do I lose then?”

He didn’t answer. Because we both knew the answer. I would lose me. Lose the last thread of freedom I had left. And yet, I sat back down. Because what’s one more scar when you’re already bleeding?