Chapter Five

The hangover of a perfect promise always brings the coldest mornings.

For three days after the storm, Victoria lived in a blissful haze. The memory of Max’s lips, the heavy warmth of his hands cupping her face, and his fierce vow beneath the rain kept her warm through the brutal shift changes at the site. She kept looking for his dark denim shirt and baseball cap near the East Block, but the quality inspector's desk remained empty.

On Tuesday morning, the entire internship pool was abruptly summoned to the penthouse boardroom of Monteverde Holdings.

"Dress in your formal whites," the chief architect had ordered, his voice clipped and nervous. "The Executive Board is reviewing the final structural drafts for the Plaza expansion today. No mistakes."

Victoria smoothed down the skirt of her corporate dress as the express elevator shot upward, her stomach doing dizzying flips. The penthouse floor was an intimidating maze of polished obsidian floors, floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the sprawling Manila skyline, and a suffocating, corporate silence.

She followed the line of anxious interns into a massive, soundproof boardroom. At the center sat a long mahogany table surrounded by senior executives in tailored charcoal suits.

"Line up against the glass wall," a secretary whispered sharply. "The CEO will be here shortly."

Victoria took her place, holding her breath, her eyes scanning the room. At the head of the table sat an elegant, older woman with sharp, aristocratic features and her silver hair pinned back into a flawless, severe bun.

Her eyes were like chips of ice as she flipped through a financial ledger. Eleanor Monteverde, Victoria realized, remembering the rumors of the terrifying matriarch who ruled the family empire with an iron fist.

Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open.

"Good morning, Mr. Monteverde," the executives chimed in perfect, practiced unison, instantly standing up from their leather chairs.

Victoria tilted her head to look, expecting to see the aging, machine-like tyrant her professors had always warned her about.

A tall man walked in, flanked by three assistants carrying tablets. He was wearing a bespoke, midnight-blue Tom Ford suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair was immaculately styled, away from his face, highlighting a sharp, dangerously handsome jawline. His posture was rigid, radiating an absolute, unyielding authority that commanded the entire room.

Victoria’s heart stopped. The blood drained from her face so fast her vision blurred.

It was Max.

Not Max the site supervisor with the dirt under his fingernails and the warm, patient eyes. This man’s eyes were cold, sweeping over the room without a single trace of emotion. He didn't look like he had ever stepped into a muddy construction puddle, let alone pulled a girl into the pouring rain to kiss her until her soul caught fire.

"Sit," Maximo Monteverde commanded. His voice was deeper here, carrying the heavy, resonant weight of a billionaire ruler.

Victoria gripped the edge of her portfolio case so hard her manicured nails dug into the plastic. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, silently begging him to look up, to see her standing there, to tell her this was a twisted joke, a twin brother, a misunderstanding.

As Maximo took his seat at the head of the table, his dark eyes finally drifted toward the line of interns standing against the glass.

His gaze locked onto hers.

Victoria watched as a subtle, microscopic freeze passed over his features. The pen in his large hand—the same hand that had tenderly brushed graphite from her cheek just days ago—stilled for a fraction of a second. But he didn't gasp. He didn't break character. He simply tore his gaze away, returning his focus to the spreadsheets in front of him.

"Let’s begin with the East Block," Maximo said coldly. "I understand there were some... unauthorized design changes proposed regarding the column materials."

"Yes, Mr. Monteverde," the chief architect spoke up quickly, sweating. "An intern suggested using light limestone instead of the mandated dark marble. We are already issuing a formal reprimand to the individual for wasting the committee's time."

Victoria felt a cold bead of sweat run down her spine. She looked at Maximo, her chest aching with a raw, sudden betrayal. He knew. He knew all along. He had let her mock his own name to his face. He had listened to her dreams like a predator watching a bird, keeping his real world locked away in this glass fortress.

"The limestone proposal stays," Maximo interrupted, his tone sharp as a razor.

The room went dead silent. Eleanor Monteverde lifted her sharp chin, her ice-blue eyes narrowing at her son. "Maximo, we discussed this. The dark marble represents the strength of our family name. Limestone is cheap. It breaks."

"Limestone absorbs the light, Mother," Maximo replied, his voice maintaining a flat, dangerous calm that made the senior executives look down at their papers. "It makes the space human. We are building a plaza, not a mausoleum. Run the cost analysis for the limestone block. Next item."

Victoria stood frozen as the meeting blurred past her. Her mind was a chaotic storm. He was defending her design, yes, but the distance between them felt wider than the ocean. He wasn't a man she could love; he was an empire. She was a girl who lived in a rented apartment with a carpenter's legacy, and he was the monarch of the city skyline.

She didn't belong here. She never would.

The moment the meeting was adjourned, Victoria didn't wait for the chief architect's instructions. She quietly slipped out of the boardroom, her legs trembling as she ran toward the service elevators, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the Monteverde name.

As the elevator doors began to slide shut, a large, powerful hand abruptly blocked the sensor.

The heavy doors rolled back, revealing Maximo. He had discarded his assistants, his tie slightly loosened, his dark eyes burning with a desperate, chaotic panic that entirely broke his cold CEO facade.

"Victoria," he breathed, stepping into the empty elevator cab with her. "Listen to me."

Victoria took a sharp step back, pressing herself against the mirrored wall of the elevator. "Don't," she whispered, her voice cracking as a single, hot tear finally escaped her eye. "Don't come near me, Mr. Monteverde."