Chapter 5

“Hey, Laki! You’re in big trouble, you idiot!”

I stormed into the house, my expression matching the storm outside. My hair was messy from the windy jeepney ride—I had taken public transport because I realized I’d given the wrong envelope to the guard earlier.

I thought I had handed him the letter, but in my unlucky rush, I’d given him the envelope with my salary instead. I only realized my mistake when I was already seated in a taxi, and I had to get out quickly because I had no money to pay the fare.

In my panic, I hadn’t even bothered to check.

“Momma, what’s ‘gago’?”

I was startled when I heard my son’s voice from behind the sofa. He peeked out like he was hiding, his curious eyes brimming with a hundred unasked questions.

“What are you doing there, baby? Come here…”

“Hush, Momma! We’re playing hide-and-seek, po!” He quickly ducked back, refusing to peek at me again.

He really didn’t want to be seen.

I cursed in my mind, plotting ways to punish Laki.

I moved toward where my son was hiding, but froze when something caught my eye.

A burly man leaned casually against the kitchen doorframe, a devilish grin on his face.

Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?

Laki was still smirking at me, so I gave him the middle finger and rolled my eyes. Thankfully, my son couldn’t see.

Physically, Laki resembled Lazarus, but Lazarus’s face was stricter and more serious. Laki was the playful, mischievous version. Both had undeniable charm, with or without clothes.

“Zon, baby, come out now,” I said sternly. My son quickly emerged from his hiding spot.

I wanted to throw a flower vase at Laki when I saw my son fully in view. Half-naked, just like his uncle.

Frustrating! What if he got sick? I’d bury Laki alive.

I picked up my son and set him on the sofa. He stood before me, patting his little tummy.

“Baby, did Uncle Laki feed you?”

“Yes, po, Momma! I ate a whole bucket of fried chicken!”

A few strands of hair fell over his face, so I tidied his slightly messy long hair.

I looked at Laki. He had crossed his arms and leaned one elbow on the polished wooden doorframe.

“I’ll get his clothes,” he said.

I didn’t respond as he walked past me upstairs to Zon’s room. The house wasn’t cramped, but it was just right for the two of us—me and my son.

I took a rubber band from my handbag and tied my son’s dark hair. He was sweating from playing.

“Momma, I want to cut my hair, po. Tito Laki said I look like a gay with long hair,” he pouted, still struggling with the letter R.

“You don’t look like a gay to me, baby.”

“But you should cut it—it’s too shy-looking.”

I shot Laki a death glare. He had returned, laying out a plain dark blue T-shirt.

I grabbed the shirt harshly, gently putting it on my son.

I didn’t know why the Cavanaugh brothers always made me so angry. Irritation, annoyance, frustration—it all boiled up. Maybe it was because of what happened between Lazarus and me, even if it had been only for a month.

That month was impossible to forget.

“Hmm, Momma? Are you done working? Can we play now?”

I bit my lower lip, suppressing my anger so I wouldn’t punch Laki on the spot. I didn’t want to lie to my son.

“Yes, baby. Work’s done,” I said, anger still simmering beneath my calm tone. “But you need to sleep first, okay?”

Laki stood silently at my side. I could feel his rigid posture from the corner of my eye.

I carried Zon upstairs to his room, leaving Laki behind. He wouldn’t leave until we’d talked.

After half an hour of telling Zon his favorite story and singing his favorite lullaby, he fell asleep.

I returned downstairs, kissing my son’s peaceful forehead. I always put him to sleep at noon; otherwise, he’d be exhausted by six in the evening from playing so hard.

I hadn’t enrolled him in school yet—he had a tutor every weekend. Next school year, I’d put him in a private school, per my mother’s suggestion. She and my father had offered to help with expenses for their grandchild.

Downstairs, Laki pretended to be watching Nickelodeon on the sofa—finally clothed. He turned off the TV when he saw me.

“You look serious,” he said, teasing in his deep voice.

“Oh? What did I do now?” He feigned puzzlement at the fury in my eyes.

“Did you give Lazarus Zon’s DNA sample?” I asked, suspicion creeping in.

“He’d be lucky if I had,” he replied, serious but still teasing. “I know Kuya Lazarus doesn’t need my help to get what he wants. What if he demands custody of his own son?” He smirked. “I’d support you in court.”

Infuriating. Both he and his brother were demons.

Lazarus aimed high for their company, while Laki was a competitive magnate with political and business connections. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew everything about what happened between Lazarus and me, and how it ended with Luzon.

I stood in front of Laki on the sofa. He rested his elbows on his knees, looking up at me.

“You’re fired?”

“I have no choice.”

“Still won’t accept my money?” He was testing me.

“I’ll find another job,” I said.

“Why not just accept my brother’s offer? You’re making things harder for yourself.”

I went silent. I had struggled since getting pregnant with Zon. I had tried contacting Lazarus, but he never responded. I was done forcing my way into his life. I only wanted to ensure my child wouldn’t grow up without a father.

“I would never do that,” I said firmly.

I promised myself I’d never beg again. If someone didn’t want me, I wouldn’t force myself. I didn’t want my son to see me as pitiful; he always saw me as brave and strong.

A week after the incident at Lazarus’ office, I began job hunting again.

“Ms. Belmonte, I’m sorry, but we have no vacancies. Try applying at Cavanaugh Finance Corp.”

Every company rejected me, all directing me to Cavanaugh Finance. Clearly, Lazarus was involved.

Hungry and exhausted, I walked, unable to afford taxis. My car sat at home with almost no gas. Irithel watched Zon while I searched for work.

Frustration built as the same suggestion was repeated over and over. I stopped in front of a tall building.

Cavanaugh Finance Corp.

I saw Lazarus speaking with a businessman near the entrance, his expensive car parked below. Anger boiled in me.

As I approached, he turned to me, expression unchanged. Calm. Unmoved.

I slammed my resume onto his chest. “What is this about, huh? No one’s hiring me! I used to work with dignity, and you threatened Mr. Santos to get me fired! I don’t want to work for you!” Papers scattered, yet he didn’t flinch.

“I’m not forcing you, Ms. Belmonte,” he said, calm but authoritative.

“But I’ll be forced because no one else will hire me! You’re terrible!”

“Are you saying a job at my company isn’t dignified?”

I couldn’t respond.

“Cat got your tongue, Ms. Belmonte?”

I turned to leave, muttering, “Watch me say fuck you.”

I left, his icy gaze burning into my back.

Sunset found me wandering the city, desperate for work. I texted Irithel to take care of Zon.

Finally, I saw a familiar sign: “Hiring Waitress.”

I hesitated. Waitressing at a bar was respectable, right? Not prostitution? Respectable enough—I needed a job.

Inside, a professional-looking gay man approached, leading me to a sofa. “Perfect timing! We need waitresses!”

He handed me a folder and a pen. “Ruru Vicedo, manager—call me Aurora. This is Mikaela.”

I read the contract carefully; no prostitution involved. Safe. I signed it.

“When can I start?”

“Now, dear!”

I changed into the uniform: tight, revealing my shape but still professional. My hair tied into a messy bun.

“Here’s the tray, girl! Go on, fire!” Aurora handed me a black tray, pushing me into the bustling bar.

I served orders, men staring, some lecherously. I focused on work and thought of Zon.

Hours passed. The music, the smoke, the flashing lights—it was overwhelming. One man grabbed me, pressing me against a wall.

His husky whisper: “Good job.”