Chapter Three - The Choice

Elara hadn’t slept.

The entire night she tossed and turned, her father’s voice echoing in her head. The ultimatum from Adrian Veylen kept flashing on her phone screen, like a cruel reminder of how little control she had left.

"Join my company as lead architect. Or watch your father’s projects disappear forever."

Her chest felt heavy as she sat on the edge of her bed, clutching her father’s old sketchbook. The worn leather smelled faintly of dust and ink. She traced the faded handwriting on the first page—her father’s dedication.

“Para sa’yo, anak. One day, you’ll build what I could only dream of.”

Her throat tightened. “Papa… anong gagawin ko?”

She lifted her head toward the ceiling as if her father could hear her. Her eyes were glassy, lips trembling. “Kung tanggapin ko ’yung alok niya, parang ipinagkakanulo kita. Pero kung tatanggi ako, mawawala lahat ng iniwan mo. Saan ako lulugar? Ano bang dapat kong gawin?”

Her phone buzzed again. Another reminder of Adrian’s message. She snatched it, turned it face down, and pressed her palms hard against her eyes. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”

But the worst part—the part she couldn’t say out loud—was the spark she felt every time his storm-gray eyes locked onto hers. That spark made her doubt herself. Made her weak.

“No,” she whispered fiercely. “I won’t let him win.”

---

The next morning, the city was already alive—horns blaring, vendors calling out, and the scent of roasted chestnuts mixing with gasoline. Elara wrapped her coat tighter around her small frame and walked quickly through the streets, her sketchbook tucked under her arm.

Her feet carried her to the cemetery.

It was quiet there, the world slowing down between the rows of headstones and swaying trees. She made her way to the grave she knew by heart.

Engr. Elias Cruz.

Beloved father. Dreamer. Builder.

Kneeling down, Elara brushed the leaves off the stone. “Hi, Pa,” she whispered, her lips curling into a sad smile. “Ang gulo ng mundo ngayon. Ang gulo ko rin.” she barely laughed.

She closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over her. Memories flickered—her father at the drafting table, glasses sliding down his nose, smiling as he taught her how to hold a pencil straight.

“Dreams are fragile, anak,” he once told her. “But with the right foundation, they can stand forever.”

Elara’s shoulders shook. “Paano ko itatayo ang pangarap mo kung kinuha na niya lahat? Papa, give me a sign. Tell me what to do.”

A tear fell, staining the grass.

---

“You shouldn’t cry alone, Elara.”

Her body froze at the deep voice. That familiar voice. Slowly, she turned her head.

Adrian Veylen stood just a few feet away. His suit was immaculate, his presence commanding even in the silence of a cemetery.

Elara’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He stepped closer, his expression calm but unreadable. “Your father was a great man. I respected him.”

Her fists clenched. “Respected? Don’t you dare use that word. You erased everything he worked for! You snatched every the dreams of people on that projects!”

“I didn’t erase it.” His tone was steady, unflinching. “I preserved it.”

Elara shot up to her feet, her anger rising. “Preserve? You call slapping your name on his designs preservation? No, Mr. Veylen. You don’t get to twist it like that. Hindi mo kilala ang tatay ko. Hindi mo alam kung gaano kahalaga sa kanya ang bawat plano, bawat linya sa blueprints niya!”

”Hindi pa ba sapat lahat ng meron ka? This big time trilionaire ay nanmgnanakaw ng maliliit na projects?! kulang pa ba huh?!”

For a flicker of a second, something shifted in Adrian’s expression. A crack in his usual armor.

“I knew his vision,” he said quietly. “And I know yours.”

Her jaw tightened. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Adrian’s gaze bored into hers. “I know you’re stubborn. I know you fight even when the odds are impossible. And I know you’re willing to burn everything if it means keeping his dream alive.”

The words cut too close. Elara took a shaky step back, shaking her head. “Stop. You don’t get to analyze me. You don’t get to stand here like you belong in this moment.”

“I came here for a reason,” Adrian replied. His voice was softer now, almost reverent as his eyes flicked to the gravestone. “Your father believed in building not just structures, but legacies. And you… you carry his fire. That’s why I’m giving you this chance.”

Her chest rose and fell sharply. “What are you saying?”

Adrian took one deliberate step closer, his shadow nearly merging with hers.

“Work with me, Elara. It’s the only way you’ll finish what he started.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

---

Adrian’s POV

He had been standing there long before she noticed him. Hidden by the oak tree just a few steps away, Adrian watched as Elara knelt at her father’s grave, her shoulders trembling under the weight of grief.

A pang twisted in his chest. He wasn’t used to this feeling—this raw, unfiltered ache that came whenever he saw her cry.

“Damn it, Cruz,” he muttered inwardly, eyes narrowing. “Why did you have to leave her like this?”

He remembered Elias Cruz well. The man had been brilliant, too brilliant for the world that kept swallowing dreamers whole. Adrian had respected him, yes—but he also resented him. Resented how much of himself he saw in that man, and how he left his daughter to bear the ruins.

Now Elara carried that fire. And that fire was dangerous. To him, to his empire, maybe even to herself.

He exhaled sharply. He hadn’t planned on speaking to her today. But the moment he saw her tears, something inside him snapped.

“You shouldn’t cry alone, Elara.”

The words slipped out harsher than intended, but he didn’t care. Better she hate him than drown in weakness.

When she whipped around, eyes blazing with fury, Adrian felt something he couldn’t name. Her anger lit her up in a way that unsettled him, burned through his cold armor. She accused him, spat venom at him, and yet—her voice shook, not with fear, but with defiance.

God, she’s stubborn.

Every retort, every refusal only made him more certain. She was perfect. Not just as an architect. But as someone who could stand at his side, challenge him, keep him from turning into the kind of monster his father once was.

But she didn’t know that. She only saw a tyrant.

Adrian clenched his fists behind his back, forcing his tone to stay calm, steady, even when inside him was a storm. “I knew his vision. And I know yours.”

Her denial stung, but he pushed past it. He had to.

Because truth be told, Adrian Veylen wasn’t offering her this chance for Elias Cruz’s sake.

He was offering it for hers.

And—though he would never admit it out loud—for his own.

---

When he stepped closer, closing the gap between them, Adrian saw her lips part in surprise. She was trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of the decision pressing down on her.

He lowered his voice, letting the gravity of his words anchor in her chest.

“Think carefully, Elara. Because this… is your only choice.”

And though he didn’t show it, Adrian knew the truth—It wasn’t just her choice. It was his too.

Because if she said no… he wasn’t sure he could let her go.