The Billionaire's Revenge Pact

If there was an award for the "Martyr Wife of the Year," or maybe "Clumsiest Ninja in Asia," I would probably be the undisputed champion.

I stood in front of the towering mahogany door of Room 305, trying to calm the erratic beating of my heart. Dug-dug. Dug-dug. Parang gusto nitong tumalon palabas ng ribcage ko at mag-breakdance sa hallway.

"Okay, Celestina. Tin. Relax," I whispered to myself, wiping my sweaty palms on my trench coat. "Hingang malalim. Inhale, exhale. Don't faint. Sayang ang makeup."

I looked ridiculous. I knew it. Nasa loob ako ng Grand Horizon Hotel—one of the most expensive and exclusive hotels in Manila, where the air smelled like money and the floors were probably cleaner than my entire existence—and yet, here I was, dressed like a spy from a low-budget movie. I was wearing a beige trench coat over my best red dress, oversized sunglasses that covered half my face, and a silk scarf wrapped around my head.

Bakit? Because I was on a mission. A Mission of Love.

Today was our third wedding anniversary.

Three years. Three years of budgeting, three years of supporting Jason’s "visionary" business ideas that always seemed to fail, and three years of telling myself that it would all be worth it.

And finally, it seemed like it was.

Jason called me this morning, sounding stressed. He told me he had a "life-changing" meeting with a VIP investor from Singapore and that he might not make it home for dinner. He sounded so apologetic, so hardworking.

“Babe, I’m doing this for us,” he had said. “Para mabilhan na kita ng bahay na gusto mo. I love you.”

Kaya naman, bilang supportive wife, I decided to do something special. I withdrew the last of my personal savings—yung pera na tinatago ko para sana sa emergency—and bought him a Rolex. It wasn't the most expensive model, but it was legit. Binili ko rin ang customized cake na favorite niya: Dark Chocolate Ganache with gold flakes.

"Surprise ambush ang peg natin today," bulong ko habang inaayos ang hawak kong cake box sa kaliwang kamay.

I looked at the spare key card in my right hand. Nakuha ko ‘to sa bag ni Jason kaninang umaga habang naliligo siya. I was supposed to just sneak it back later, but then the idea hit me: Why not wait for him inside the hotel room? Imagine his face when he enters the suite, exhausted from the meeting, and sees his loving wife ready to massage his back and feed him cake.

Best. Wife. Ever.

I swiped the card.

Beep. Click.

The green light flashed. Huminga ako nang malalim bago dahan-dahang itinulak ang pinto.

The Presidential Suite was massive. Mas malaki pa yata ang living room nito kaysa sa buong apartment namin sa QC. The floor was covered in plush, cream-colored carpet that felt like walking on clouds. The walls were adorned with abstract paintings that probably cost more than my kidney. Aside from the city lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the room was dim.

"Jason?" I called out softly.

Walang sumagot. Silence greeted me.

Napangiti ako ng malawak. Yes! Wala pa siya! I beat him to it. This was perfect.

I tiptoed inside, trying to be graceful but almost tripping over my own heels. Susmaryosep, Tin. Ayusin mo ang lakad mo.

I placed the cake box on the sleek glass coffee table. Beside it, I placed the velvet box containing the watch. I looked around. The room was impeccable. There was a bucket of champagne on the side table—wait, champagne?

Lumapit ako. The ice was halfway melted. There were two glasses.

Napakunot ang noo ko. Jason ordered champagne for the investor? Sosyal naman.

Before I could overthink it, I heard a sound that made my blood turn to ice.

Beep. Click.

The electronic lock of the main door buzzed again.

My eyes widened behind my sunglasses. Oh my god. Nandiyan na siya!

Panic exploded in my chest. Wait, hindi pa ako ready! I was still wearing the trench coat! I looked like a stalker! I needed to take this off, fix my hair, and strike a sexy pose on the sofa. I couldn't do that in three seconds!

"Shit, shit, shit," I cursed under my breath, my head whipping left and right looking for a spot.

The heavy oak door started to creak open. I could hear voices.

Hiding spot. Now!

My eyes landed on a door near the hallway. Closet? Bathroom? Bahala na!

I grabbed the cake box (sayang naman kung matunaw) and sprinted—quietly, like the ninja I claimed to be—towards the door. I yanked it open, threw myself inside, and pulled it shut just as the main door of the suite fully opened.

Total darkness engulfed me.

I leaned back against the wall, clutching the cake box to my chest, my breathing coming in short, terrified gasps.

Safe. Okay, Tin. You’re safe.

Wait for him to settle down. Maybe wait for the investor to leave? Or maybe I could jump out now? No, nakakahiya sa investor. Magmumukha akong tanga. I should wait until the meeting is over.

I calmed myself down, forcing my heart rate to return to normal.

That was when I realized three things simultaneously.

First, this was definitely a walk-in closet. It was filled with hanging clothes.

Second, the clothes didn't smell like detergent. They smelled expensive.

Third... the "wall" I was leaning against was warm.

And soft.

And it had a heartbeat.

Dug-dug. Dug-dug.

My entire body stiffened. The hairs on my arms stood up.

Slowly, terrifyingly, I realized that the warmth wasn't coming from the wall. It was coming from a person. Someone was standing right behind me in the dark.

I opened my mouth to scream—

A large, heavy hand slammed over my mouth, cutting off my noise instantly.

"Mmpfh!!"

"Quiet," a voice hissed directly into my ear.

It wasn't Jason.

The voice was low, dangerous, and dripping with annoyance. It was a baritone that vibrated through my skull. Before I could struggle, a strong arm clamped around my waist, pulling me flush against a hard, muscular body.

We were chest-to-back, sandwiched between rows of expensive suits.

Adik?! Magnanakaw?! Serial Killer?!

Terror flooded my system. I tried to stomp on his foot, but he anticipated it. He widened his stance, locking my legs between his. He was huge—much taller and broader than Jason. I could feel the rough fabric of his suit against my cheek and smell his scent. It was intoxicating—sandalwood, rain, and something sharp like cold steel.

"Stop squirming, you idiot," the stranger whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my ear. "Unless you want to be part of the show out there."

Show? Anong show?

My confusion was cut short when the lights in the bedroom—the room connected to our closet—flickered on.

The closet door had slats—those wooden blinds that let air in but kept light out. Through the gaps, I had a perfect, cinematic view of the master bedroom.

"Babe, wait! Excited masyado?" a woman’s voice giggled. It was a sound that grated on my ears—fake, high-pitched, and flirtatious.

"I’ve been waiting all week for this. Do you know how boring it is to pretend to work?" a man replied.

My heart stopped. Literally stopped.

I knew that voice. I knew the way he elongated his vowels when he was trying to be charming.

Jason.

I stopped struggling against the stranger. I stood frozen, my eyes glued to the scene through the slats.

Jason walked into view. But he wasn't wearing his "meeting suit." He was already loosening his tie, a smirk on his face that I hadn't seen in years. And he wasn't alone.

A woman walked in—no, she strutted in. She was wearing a red dress, suspiciously similar to the one I was wearing underneath my coat, only hers was designer and fit her like a second skin.

Veronica.

I recognized her immediately. Everyone knew her. Veronica Chua. Socialite. Model. The fiancée of the billionaire tycoon Atticus Valderama. She was the woman Jason always talked about admiringly—"goal-oriented" daw.

"Paano kung tumawag si Tin?" Veronica laughed, wrapping her arms around my husband’s neck. "Di ba anniversary niyo ngayon?"

Jason laughed. It was a cruel, dismissive sound that felt like a slap to my face.

"Tin? Don't worry about her," Jason scoffed, kissing Veronica’s neck. "Nasa bahay 'yon. Probably cooking sinigang or knitting or whatever boring housewives do. She’s clueless, babe. That’s why I married her. She’s... low maintenance. Convenient."

Convenient.

The word echoed in the silence of the closet.

Not "beautiful." Not "smart." Not "the love of my life."

Convenient.

Parang may bumasag na salamin sa loob ng dibdib ko. All the sacrifices flashed before my eyes.

The times I ate cup noodles so he could buy a nice suit for his interviews.

The times I stayed up until 4 AM editing his business proposals because his grammar was terrible.

The Rolex in the box on the table outside. The cake I was currently hugging against my chest.

He thinks I'm boring. He thinks I'm stupid.

My knees turned to jelly. The strength left my legs. I felt myself sinking, the shock so overwhelming that I couldn't even breathe.

I would have collapsed to the floor if not for the stranger behind me.

The arm around my waist tightened, holding me up. He didn't let me fall. The hand over my mouth slowly slid down, moving to grip my shoulder instead.

I felt the stranger stiffen as he watched the scene unfolding.

"Atticus won't find out, right?" Jason asked, pushing Veronica onto the bed—my anniversary bed.

"Atticus is too busy counting his money," Veronica moaned. "He's cold. Unlike you."

The temperature in the closet dropped ten degrees. The man holding me radiated a sudden, terrifying aura of rage. His grip on my shoulder became painful, his breathing heavy and sharp.

It clicked.

The expensive suit. The scent of power. The reason he was hiding in a closet in his own hotel.

I wasn't the only one getting betrayed tonight.

I turned my head slightly, tears blurring my vision, looking up into the darkness where his face was. I couldn't see his features, but I could feel his eyes burning with the same fire that was consuming me.

"Look at them," the stranger—Atticus Valderama—whispered into my ear. His voice was no longer annoyed. It was shattered, yet dangerous. Like a loaded gun. "Don't you dare close your eyes. Watch them."

And so, held up by the arms of a billionaire stranger, I forced myself to watch my husband destroy my life.