Chapter 2: A Fifty-Thousand Peso Mistake

Nakaupo ako sa waiting area ng Del Rosario Tower, pinipilit ang sarili kong huminga nang normal. Lord, bakit ba ako pumunta dito? Dapat nasa coffee shop ako ngayon, nagtatrabaho, kumikita. Hindi naghihintay para makipagkita sa isang CEO na nagmamay-ari ng suit na sinira ko.

"Miss Santos?" tawag ng receptionist. "Mr. Del Rosario will see you now."

Tumayo ako, pinupunasan ang pawis sa palad ko sa black pencil skirt na hiniram ko kay Tita Baby. Buti na lang at may extra uniform siyang corporate attire mula sa dating trabaho niya. Hindi naman siguro halata na three inches longer sa akin ang skirt?

The elevator ride to the 45th floor felt like forever. Pinagmasdan ko ang reflection ko sa elevator mirror – simple white blouse, slightly loose black skirt, flat shoes na medyo pudpod na pero nilinis ko nang mabuti. Mukhang decent naman siguro?

"Naku, 'te," bulong ko sa sarili ko. "Ano ba yang pinasok mo?"

The elevator doors opened to a massive office floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere, showing the Makati and BGC skyline. Ang laki. Pwedeng gawin basketball court 'tong isang section pa lang.

"Miss Santos." A stern-looking executive assistant approached me. "This way please."

Sinundan ko siya papunta sa pinakamalaking office sa floor. Of course, corner office. Bakit ba ako nagexpect ng iba?

"Sir, Miss Santos is here."

"Send her in."

Bumilis ang tibok ng puso ko nang marinig ang boses na 'yon. Same commanding tone from this morning, pero may ibang halo ngayon. Something almost... predatory.

Pumasok ako sa office niya, desperately channeling every bit of confidence I could muster. Kaya mo 'to, Isa. Professional ka. Independent woman. Strong-

"Umupo ka."

Napatingin ako kay Alexander Del Rosario. He wasn't wearing the coffee-stained suit anymore. Of courese, Isa. Alangan naman suot niya pa rin 'yong tinapunan mo ng kape? Instead, he had on a crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. His black hair was slightly disheveled, like he'd been running his hands through it in frustration.

Naupo ako sa leather chair sa harap ng desk niya, conscious na conscious sa every movement ko. "Sir, about this morning po-"

"Fifty thousand pesos," he cut me off, standing up to walk to his window. "That's roughly what you make in... five months?"

"Six po." Why did I correct him? Lord, shut up na, Isa.

He turned to face me, one eyebrow raised. "Six months of your salary. Gone in one clumsy moment."

"I said I'll pay for it po-"

"In ten years?" He actually smirked. "Or was it the kidney option you preferred?"

Namula ako. "Sir, I know po na it sounds ridiculous-"

"What's ridiculous," he interrupted again, papalapit ng papalapit closer, "is that the daughter of Eduardo Santos is working as a barista."

Nanigas ako sa upuan ko. "You... you knew my father?"

"I knew of him." He sat on the edge of his desk, too close for comfort. "Santos Construction was one of the biggest contractors in Manila fifteen years ago. Until..."

"Until they destroyed our reputation," I finished bitterly. "Used fake materials daw that caused accidents. Pero hindi po totoo 'yon. My father would never-"

"I know."

I stared at him. "What?"

He stood up again, walked back to his window. "The Santos Construction scandal was... complicated. But that's not why you're here."

Right. Balik tayo sa fifty thousand peso disaster ko. "Sir, regarding your suit po-"

"I have a proposition for you, Miss Santos."

Ha? "Po?"

He turned to face me again, his expression unreadable. "What do you know about Del Rosario Industries?"

"Ah..." I racked my brain for business news I'd overheard from customers. "One of the biggest conglomerates po sa Philippines? Real estate, manufacturing, hotels..."

"My grandfather built this company from nothing," he said, pride evident in his voice. "Worked his way up from being a small-time trader to creating an empire. Everything he did, he did for family."

Hindi ko maintindihan kung saan papunta 'to, pero I nodded politely.

"When he died last year, he left one condition in his will." Alexander's jaw tightened. "The CEO of Del Rosario Industries must be married before their 33rd birthday. Otherwise, control goes to the board of directors."

My eyes widened. "And you're..."

"Turning thirty-three in eleven months."

"Oh." I blinked. "Oh! Kaya pala may balita tungkol sayo and that Chinese heiress-"

"Chiara Chen is not, and will never be, my wife." His tone was final. "My mother's choice, not mine."

"Okay po, pero..." I gestured vaguely between us. "What does this have to do with your suit?"

He walked around his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a folder. "I have a contract for you, Miss Santos."

"Contract?" Why did that word make me nervous?

"One year of marriage. In name only." He slid the folder across the desk. "In exchange, you get ten million pesos."

Natawa ako. Like, full-on laughed out loud. Then I realized na hindi tumatawa. Nagmukha tuloy akong baliw.

"Sir," I said carefully. "You're not serious."

"Do I look like I the type to joke about business matters, Miss Santos?"

Hindi nga. In fact, he looked deadly serious.

"Pero... Bakit ako?" I stammered. "I'm nobody. Natapunan pa nga kita ng coffe. Isa lang akong barista-"

"You're Eduardo Santos's daughter. Your family name still carries weight in certain circles." He leaned forward. "Plus, you're exactly what I need – someone with no connection to our social circle, no ambitious family pushing for power, and most importantly, someone who needs money badly enough to keep their end of the deal."

Nasaktan ako sa description niya, pero hindi rin naman siya mali. I did need the money. Desperately.

"The deal is simple," he continued. "We get married quietly, you play the role of Mrs. Del Rosario for one year, then we get an annulment. You get your money, I keep my company, everyone wins."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you can proceed with your ten-year payment plan for my suit." His smile was sharp. "Or the 5 years you are talking if you will sell your kidney? Be it 10 or 5 years, may interest pa rin."

Gusto kong sampalin ang ngiti niya. "This is crazy."

"This is business." He opened the folder, revealing a thick contract. "Ten million pesos, Miss Santos. Think of what you could do with that money."

I did think about it. Jenny's treatment in Korea. Our mortgage. Dad's old debts. At sa lahat ng taong pinagkakautangan namin.

"What are the rules?" I found myself asking.

"Basic ones. Attend social functions as my wife. Live in my penthouse for appearance's sake – separate bedrooms, of course. Sign an NDA about the arrangement." He started flipping through the contract. "No dating, no scandals, no talking to the press. And most importantly..." He looked directly into my eyes. "No falling in love."

I almost laughed again. "Trust me, Mr. Del Rosario. That won't be a problem."

"Good." He held out an expensive-looking pen. "Do we have a deal?"

Tinitigan ko ang contract sa harap ko. Ten million pesos. Jenny's life. Our future.

"Miss Santos?" he prompted. "Your answer?"

I thought about Jenny in her hospital bed. About Dad's name being dragged through the mud. Yung mga gabing hindi ko mapigilang umiyak, nagtatanong kung ano bang ginawa naming masama at nararanasan namin ito.

Kinuha ko ang pen sa kanya.

"Saan po ako pipirma?"

His smile was triumphant. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Del Rosario."

Sa sandali na 'yon, hindi ko alam kung ang pinirmahan ko ay ang magsazalba sa pamilya ko... o ang death sentence ng puso ko.