Chapter 5: Sunday Dinner at Forbes Park

The gates of the Montenegro ancestral estate in Forbes Park did not just open; they parted like the sea for royalty.

As Alex’s Mercedes-Maybach glided past the towering stone walls and wound down a lush, mahogany-lined driveway, Mariana smoothed down the fabric of her emerald-green cocktail dress for the fourth time. It was a modest, elegant piece she had bought years ago for a cousin’s debut, but against the backdrop of the sprawling mansion that looked like a Spanish colonial villa mixed with modern minimalist glass, she felt like an imposter wearing a costume.

Beside her in the backseat, Alex sat in absolute composure. He wore a crisp, tailored navy suit, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window with a look of bored detachment.

"Stop fussing with your dress," Alex said without turning his head. "You look fine."

Mariana stopped smoothing her skirt and glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You’re wearing armor disguised as a suit. I’m walking into a den of multi-millionaires who probably judge people by the brand of their handbag."

Alex finally turned his gaze toward her, his dark eyes sweeping over her from her neat updo down to her simple pearl earrings. A faint flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before his expression hardened back into the Ice Falcon mask. "My grandfather doesn't care about designer labels. He cares about pedigree, manners, and resilience. As long as you don't throw a glass of wine in my face during dinner, you'll pass with flying colors."

"Don't tempt me," Mariana muttered under her breath.

The car stopped under the grand porte-cochère. Kuya Bert quickly stepped out to open Mariana’s door, offering a polite hand as she stepped onto the cobblestone path.

As they walked up the sweeping marble steps toward the massive double doors, Alex paused. He turned to her, his expression softening into an artificial, theatrical tenderness that nearly made Mariana gag.

"Remember our agreement, mahal," Alex whispered, loud enough for the approaching valet to hear. He reached out, his warm fingers brushing against the bare skin of her waist as he pulled her closer to his side.

A jolt of electricity shot up Mariana’s spine at the unexpected contact. She froze, her breath hitching, but she quickly recovered, leaning into his side and forcing a sweet, dazzling smile onto her face.

"Of course, darling," she whispered back, her teeth clenched so tightly her jaw ached. "I wouldn't dream of ruining our little fairytale."

The dining hall was magnificent—a cavernous space featuring a long teakwood table lit by a grand crystal chandelier. Sitting at the head of the table was Don Eduardo Montenegro, the eighty-year-old patriarch of the family. Despite his age, his posture was military-straight, and his eyes were as sharp as polished steel.

Seated around the table were various aunts, uncles, and cousins—including Julian Montenegro, Alex’s slick, ambitious cousin who looked at them like a wolf sizing up a stray sheep.

"So," Don Eduardo boomed, his deep voice carrying across the silent room as Alex and Mariana took their seats. "The elusive Alejandro finally decides to introduce the woman who managed to tame the coldest heart in BGC. Rumor has it you two met under... unusual circumstances."

Mariana’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her composure, folding her hands neatly on her lap. "We did, Don Eduardo," she said, her voice clear and steady. "Alex was reviewing one of my architectural projects. Let's just say we had a disagreement over structural integrity... and we've been arguing ever since."

A ripple of nervous laughter went around the table. Julian raised an eyebrow, swirling his wine glass. "An architect? How charming. A working girl. Tell me, Mariana, do you design office buildings, or are you just helping Alex build his ego?"

The barb hung in the air, sharp and condescending. The table went dead silent as everyone waited to see how the junior architect would handle high-society sabotage.

Mariana didn't flinch. She offered Julian a sweet, pitying smile. "I design structures meant to withstand heavy pressure, Julian. Which is probably why I find myself so comfortable in this family. Though I must admit, some foundations here look a bit hollow."

Alex choked on his water, coughing lightly into his napkin while a rare, genuine spark of amusement flashed in his dark eyes.

Don Eduardo slammed his fist gently against the table, throwing his head back in a hearty, booming laugh. "Ah! Sharp tongue! I like her! Reminds me of my late wife. She used to put me in my place every single day."

Julian’s smile tightened into a thin, angry line. "Very spirited, grandfather. Let's just hope her loyalty is as strong as her mouth when the board reviews Alex's corporate restructuring next month."

"My loyalty," Mariana said, turning her gaze directly to Julian while slipping her hand across the table until her fingers rested against Alex’s palm, "is entirely where it belongs."

Alex’s hand stiffened for a microsecond before his fingers instinctively intertwined with hers, holding her grip with a firm, grounding warmth. He turned his head, looking down at her with a gaze so intensely dark and convincing that for a terrifying second, Mariana almost forgot it was all an act.

"She speaks the truth," Alex said softly, his voice low enough only for her to hear, though the entire table hung on his every word. "She is everything I need."

Dinner proceeded through courses of heirloom Filipino dishes and polite, superficial small talk. But beneath the glittering lights and high-society elegance, Mariana realized something that made her stomach twist into knots:

Playing a role with Alejandro Montenegro wasn't just dangerous because she might get caught. It was dangerous because the longer she looked into his eyes, the harder it was to remember where the lie ended and the truth began.