CHAPTER3"THE HEIRS"

I did not plan to go down to the lobby.

After the boardroom, after Alessandro De Luca knelt in his mind and asked me to dinner in Room 2808, after Vanessa's red nails digging into his arm, after I told him I don't meet men alone in hotel rooms anymore, I planned to leave. To take the private elevator to the basement, to get my car, to get my twins, to go back to BGC and never see Grand De Luca Hotel again for another five years. My hands were shaking inside my Birkin bag, my heart beating so loud I thought the board members outside could hear it. My lipstick was smudged from biting my lips.

But Leo and Luna had other plans. They always had other plans. They were four years old but they had the minds of ten-year-olds, or maybe fifteen. Margaret Sinclair used to say "Those twins are smarter than all my board combined, Elena, you should put them on payroll."

My phone buzzed non-stop while I was in the boardroom, on silent but vibrating against my thigh.

Yaya Lita: Madam, Leo hacked the hotel WiFi again. He is watching you on CCTV. He says Mommy looks pretty but angry.

Yaya Lita: Madam, Luna says she saw a tall man on TV in lobby who looks like Leo. She says is that Daddy? She is drawing him.

Yaya Lita: Madam, they insisted to wait in the lobby. They want to see where Mommy was called a thief. I cannot stop them, they ran. Leo is fast.

I ran to the lobby. I literally ran in my Armani heels, which I never do, because I knew my twins.

The Grand De Luca lobby at 11 AM was busy. Tourists checking in, businessmen with laptops, check-outs, the smell of lilies and expensive coffee and money. The marble floor I used to mop on my knees with bleach water that burned my hands, now shining under my Armani heels that cost twenty thousand pesos.

And in the middle of that lobby, sitting on the velvet sofa that costs more than my old house in Tondo, were my two babies, my two miracles, my two vendettas.

Leo, in his small navy blue suit that I ordered from a tailor in BGC, his hair neatly combed to the side with gel, his little legs crossed like a small CEO, holding an iPad that he already knew how to hack. His face — God, his face was a miniature version of Alessandro's. Same sharp jaw, same thick eyebrows, same cold eyes when he was annoyed, same way of staring that made people uncomfortable and made them look away. He was four but he looked five, he spoke like ten. He was holding his sister's hand protectively.

Luna, in her pink dress with lace that I bought in SM but looked expensive because she wore it with grace, her hair in two small ponytails with pink ribbons, her big brown eyes looking around with curiosity, holding a crumpled drawing paper and crayons that the concierge gave her. Sweet, soft, shy, but same dark hair, same nose as Alessandro, same small mole under the left eye that Alessandro had, that I used to stare at in magazines.

They saw me and their faces lit up like the sun.

"Mommy, you took so long!" Leo shouted, his small voice echoing in the grand lobby, everyone turning to look at the loud small CEO. He ran to me, his little suit flapping, his iPad clutched. "We hacked the WiFi! The password is DeLuca1234, so weak! So predictable! And we saw you on CCTV! You were so cool! You told Grumpy Handsome no! You said you don't meet men in hotel rooms! Slay, Mommy, slay!"

"Did you see Grumpy Handsome?" Luna asked, tugging my skirt, her voice soft like a bell. "Yaya said he is handsome but grumpy. Like Leo when he doesn't get ice cream. And like the man in my dream."

Yaya Lita ran after them, panicked, carrying our small bags and her big tote with snacks. "Madam, sorry, they insisted to wait in the lobby. Leo said he wanted to see where Mommy was called a thief five years ago. I couldn't stop, they are so fast! Leo ran, Luna followed!"

"It's okay, Yaya," I said, kneeling to hug them, my eyes tearing up from the smell of their shampoo, Johnson's baby shampoo, my safe place, my home. "Let's go, we have a flight to Cebu tomorrow, we need to pack, we need to—"

"Elena?"

That voice. Behind me. That voice I heard five years ago in Room 2808, hoarse, broken, saying "Stay for five minutes. Just stay without wanting anything."

I froze. My blood turned cold, then hot, then cold again. My knees weakened.

Alessandro De Luca had followed me down from the boardroom. He was standing three meters away, with Vanessa clinging to his arm like a red snake, her red dress tight, and two board members behind them whispering, and the general manager sweating and looking like he would faint.

His eyes were not on me. He was not looking at me, the woman he fired, the woman he invited to Room 2808, the woman who told him no.

His eyes were on Leo and Luna.

Silence fell in the lobby. It was like a movie, where all sound stops, where the music stops. The receptionists stopped typing. Guests stopped walking with their luggage. A child stopped crying. Everyone stared at the scene, at the tall handsome billionaire staring at two small kids.

Leo, being Leo, stared back at Alessandro, unafraid, curious, his head tilted like a small professor analyzing a specimen.

"Who are you?" Leo asked, blunt, in perfect English, the English I taught him, the English Margaret taught me, British accent mixed with Filipino. "You are staring at my Mommy. Do you know my Mommy? Are you her boss? She said her boss was grumpy and handsome."

Alessandro did not answer. His face had gone completely white, like paper, like marble. His hand gripped his chest slightly, like he could not breathe, like his heart stopped. He was looking at Leo, then at Luna, then back at Leo. His lips parted. He took a step forward, then stopped, like his legs failed, like he would fall.

Vanessa laughed, loud and fake, breaking the heavy silence, her laugh echoing in the marble lobby, ugly.

"Oh, how cute! Are these your kids, Elena? The thief maid has kids now? Wow, you work fast, huh? Two kids, no husband, CEO? Wow, you are really... efficient. Who's the father? A driver? A janitor? A construction worker? A call center agent?"

I stood up slowly, putting Leo and Luna behind me, my mother instincts kicking in, my CEO mask back, my vendetta mask.

"Vanessa, stop," Alessandro said, his voice low, dangerous, cold, but shaking, not looking at her, his eyes still locked on Leo, on Luna, on the twins. "Leo... how old are you? How old are you, son? Tell me, how old?"

Leo frowned, annoyed at being called son by a stranger, his small eyebrows furrowing exactly like Alessandro's when he was annoyed in business meetings. "I'm four and a half. Why are you asking? Are you a police? Do you want my birth certificate? I have it memorized. My birthday is March 8, 2021. And who are you calling son? My name is Leo Sinclair. Not son. And my sister is Luna Sinclair. And our Mommy is Elena Sinclair. And you are...?"

Four and a half. Four and a half years old. March 8, 2021. Five years since Room 2808, which was October 2020. The math was instant in Alessandro's head. I saw it click, like a calculator, like a bomb. I saw his eyes widen, his breathing stop, his hand shake violently.

He looked at me, his eyes now desperate, broken, begging, tears forming, the cold CEO gone, only the broken boy from Room 2808 left, the boy who asked me to stay.

"Elena," he whispered, so only I could hear, though Vanessa was trying to listen, leaning in with her fake eyelashes. "Are they... are they mine? Elena, please. Are they mine? Are they my kids? Tell me. Please. Are they my twins?"

The lobby went quiet again. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears, in my throat, in my chest.

Leo peeked from behind me, curious, not scared. "Mommy, why is this man crying? Is he sick? Does he need water?"

Alessandro was not crying. But his eyes were red, wet, shining, like glass. The great Alessandro De Luca, who never cried, who fired me without blinking, who was on the cover of Forbes as the Ice King of Hotels, the Billionaire Who Never Smiles, was about to break down in his own hotel lobby in front of his board and his fiancée and his guests and his staff and his mother who was arriving.

"No," I said, my voice cold, loud enough for Vanessa and the board and the lobby to hear, my voice practiced for five years, my revenge voice, my queen voice. "They are not yours, Mr. De Luca. You have no children. You made that clear five years ago when you said I would never work again and blacklisted me from every hotel in Luzon and made my mother cry. I have no father for my kids. Their father is dead. He died in Room 2808. He died that night."

It was a lie. A big, cruel, necessary lie. A lie to protect them. A lie to hurt him the way he hurt me. A lie that tasted like blood in my mouth.

Alessandro flinched as if I slapped him hard across his perfect face, as if I punched him. He stepped back, his hand on the sofa for support, his knees bending.

Vanessa smiled, victorious, her red lipstick showing teeth.

"See? She said they are not yours, Alessandro! Let's go! She is just a gold digger, she wants money, she knows you are rich, she saw you on Forbes and made kids that look like you! It's a scam! Let's call security!"

But Luna, sweet Luna, my angel, my soft heart, stepped out from behind me, ignoring me, ignoring Vanessa, ignoring the crowd, and walked towards Alessandro, her small pink shoes tapping on marble, tap tap tap, and tugged his expensive pants, his Armani pants that cost more than our house in Tondo, that cost more than my salary for a year as a maid.

"Don't be sad, Mister Grumpy Handsome," she said softly, holding up her drawing with both hands, her small hands shaking. "I drew you. You are tall, but you look sad like Mommy sometimes at night when she looks at our picture and cries. I drew you happy so you won't be sad."

She held up the drawing. Stick figures, crayon, messy but beautiful, done with love. A tall man with black hair, a woman with long hair, and two small kids holding hands, under a yellow sun, and a house with a red roof, and Room 2808 written in child's handwriting, crooked, and "Daddy?" with a question mark.

Alessandro knelt down. The billionaire heir, in his Armani suit, knelt down on the marble floor of his five-star hotel lobby, that he owned, that his father built, to be at eye level with my four-year-old daughter, not caring that his pants would wrinkle, not caring that everyone was watching and taking videos with their phones that would be on T****k and I*******m in an hour.

He took the drawing with shaking hands, his big hands, his hands that once held my wrist in Room 2808, that once took the watch from my hand.

"Luna," he whispered, reading the name Yaya Lita had written in the corner in pink with a heart. "Your name is Luna. Luna Sinclair. Luna..."

"Yes! And that's Leo! We are twins! Mommy says we are her vendetta! But I don't know what vendetta means! Leo says it means revenge! Are you revenge, Mister? Are you the reason Mommy cries?"

Vendetta. My word. My babies repeated my word, my secret word, my reason for five years, my fuel.

Alessandro looked up at me, tears now falling freely down his perfect face, down his sharp jaw, not caring who saw, not caring that Vanessa was screaming his name, not caring that his board was filming, not caring that his mother just entered the lobby and gasped.

"Elena, please," he said, his voice broken, raw, in front of everyone, his voice echoing in the marble lobby, his voice cracking like a boy. "Please tell me the truth. In Room 2808... that night... five years ago... I... I don't remember everything either. I was drugged too. Mrs. Reyes gave me water... bitter water... then I woke up in the morning and you were gone and Vanessa said... Vanessa said you stole and ran and I believed her because I was drunk and stupid and broken and my father... Please, Elena, were we... were you... did we... are they..."

He could not finish. He looked at Leo again. Leo, who had Alessandro's exact frown, Alessandro's exact cold eyes, Alessandro's exact way of crossing his arms, Alessandro's exact mole.

Vanessa pulled his arm hard, her nails digging, her face ugly with anger and fear.

"Alessandro, let's go! They are not yours! She's lying! She's a gold digger! She wants your money! She wants your hotel! Security! Security, take this woman and her bastards out of my hotel! Now!"

I grabbed Luna's hand, Leo's hand, my heart breaking into a million pieces, my vendetta cracking, my queen mask cracking, tears in my eyes behind sunglasses.

"Let's go, babies. We don't talk to strangers. Especially strangers who call us names and who fire their maids for stealing watches they didn't steal."

I walked away. I walked away from Alessandro kneeling on the floor holding my daughter's drawing, tears on his face, broken, from Vanessa screaming like a witch, from the board whispering, from the lobby staring and taking videos that would be on social media in an hour with title "Billionaire Cries Over Twins in Lobby."

I walked out of Grand De Luca Hotel with my twins, my head high, my heels clicking, my tears hidden behind sunglasses, my heart beating for revenge and for love at the same time.

But I felt his eyes on my back the whole way. I felt his soul following us out the revolving doors, into the Manila heat.

And I knew. He knew. He knew they were his. He knew his twin heirs. He knew his vendetta had just begun.

And this was just the beginning of my vendetta. And the beginning of his hell. And the beginning of our story that started and ended in Room 2808.