Chapter Six

The service elevator plummeted thirty floors in absolute, suffocating silence.

Maximo reached out, his hand hovering inches from Victoria’s shoulder. "Victoria, please. Let me explain. I never meant to deceive you. I just wanted—"

"You wanted a vacation from your life," Victoria interrupted, her voice a fierce, trembling whisper. She kept her eyes locked on the glowing floor indicator as it ticked down. 22. 21. 20. "You wanted to play human for a few weeks with an intern who didn't know any better. Did it make you feel good, Mr. Monteverde? Listening to me call you a tyrant while you secretly held my entire future in your hands?"

"It wasn't a game," Maximo said, his jaw tightening, his dark eyes flashing with a raw desperation she had never seen in him. "When I was with you, I was just Max. The man I actually want to be. I hid my name to protect you from the exact world you saw in that room."

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open at the basement parking level. Without another word, Victoria pushed past him, her low heels clicking sharply against the cold concrete. Maximo stepped out to follow her, but his personal security detail was already waiting by his black sedan.

"Sir," his chief bodyguard said, stepping into his path with a professional, unyielding stance. "Your mother is requesting your presence back in the penthouse immediately. She noted your departure."

Maximo glared at the guard, his fists clenching at his sides. He looked over the man's shoulder, watching Victoria’s small, resolute figure disappear through the exit turnstiles. The glass tower was pulling him back into its jaws, and for the first time in his life, he felt the heavy chains of his inheritance choking him.

"Fine," Maximo hissed, turning back toward the private executive lift. "But if anyone follows her, you’re fired."

***

Victoria didn't go back to the site. She couldn't face the drafting tables or the concrete columns that carried his phantom touch. Instead, she took a long, dizzying transit ride back to her small, one-bedroom apartment in a quiet corner of Quezon City.

She shed her formal white corporate attire, changing into an oversized t-shirt, and spent the afternoon packing her drafting tools. She was going to resign. The dream of working for Monteverde Holdings was dead, killed by the reality of who owned it.

At 4:30 PM, a sharp, authoritative knock echoed through her thin wooden door.

Victoria’s heart leaped into her throat. Max. She ran to the door, her fingers trembling as she threw it open, a hundred angry, heartbroken words resting on her tongue.

The words died instantly.

Standing in the narrow, dimly lit hallway of the apartment building were two burly men in matching black suits. Between them stood Eleanor Monteverde.

The matriarch looked entirely out of place against the peeling paint and fluorescent lights of the hallway. She wore a tailored cream silk suit, a massive diamond brooch pinning her lapel, and an expression of profound, chilling disgust.

"Miss Valenzuela," Eleanor said, her voice smooth, quiet, and deadlier than a blade. "May I come in? Or do you prefer your neighbors to hear what I have to say?"

Victoria swallowed hard, her survival instincts screaming at her to shut the door. But the memory of her father’s lessons—that a Valenzuela never bows their head to arrogance—made her step aside. "Enter."

Eleanor stepped into the cramped apartment, her eyes sweeping over the modest furniture, the small drafting table in the corner, and the framed photo of Victoria’s late father. She didn't sit down. She simply stood in the center of the room, radiating an aura of absolute supremacy.

"I will not waste my time with pleasantries," Eleanor began, turning her icy gaze to Victoria. "My son has been acting strangely for a month. Maximo is a creature of absolute discipline, yet he has been neglecting his board meetings, restructuring his private shares without my permission, and defending amateurish limestone designs. I had my security team look into his schedule."

Eleanor stepped closer, her expensive French perfume fighting against the scent of Victoria's jasmine tea.

"You are a clever girl," Eleanor purred, though her eyes remained entirely cold. "You used your position as an intern to catch the eye of a billionaire. You played the innocent, hard-working girl to appeal to his hidden guilt about his position. But let me make one thing beautifully clear to you, Miss Valenzuela: you are nothing but a temporary distraction."

"I didn't know who he was," Victoria said, her voice steady despite the furious pounding of her heart. "And I don't want his money."

Eleanor let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Please. Spare me the romantic delusions. A girl from your background always wants the money. Maximo belongs to the Monteverde dynasty. He is currently arranging a merger with the Herrera family through marriage. His wife will be a woman of stature, bloodline, and power. Not an intern whose father built wooden chairs for a living."

The insult to her father cut deep, making Victoria’s hands shake with rage. "Get out of my house."

"I am leaving," Eleanor said smoothly, reaching into her leather handbag. She pulled out a sleek, white envelope and tossed it carelessly onto Victoria’s small dining table. "Inside is a check. It is more money than you or your late father could ever earn in three lifetimes. Take it, resign from the firm, and leave Manila by the end of the week."

Victoria looked at the envelope, a sick feeling rising in her throat. "And if I refuse?"

Eleanor smiled, a horrific, empty expression.

"If you refuse, I will ensure that no architectural firm in this country, or any country under our conglomerate’s reach, will ever hire you. I will blackball your name until you are reduced to drawing stick figures on napkins for loose change. I will ruin you, Miss Valenzuela. And Maximo will not save you, because by tomorrow, he will be on a flight to Tokyo to finalize his future."

Eleanor turned on her heel, her silk suit rustling as she walked toward the door. She paused at the threshold, looking back over her shoulder.

"He is a Monteverde," Eleanor whispered. "In the end, they always choose the empire. Choose wisely."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Victoria alone in the suffocating silence of her apartment, staring at the white envelope on the table.