Chapter Two - The Trillionaire's Interest

The conference hall had emptied, but the echoes of chaos still clung to the air like smoke after a fire. Reporters had scattered, chattering wildly about the scene they’d just witnessed. Adrian Veylen, the untouchable trillionaire, holding a furious woman’s hand in front of the entire press.

And not just any woman—Elara Cruz. So It was his father's project. The one that caught his interest.

Adrian sat in the back of his sleek black car, the city lights flickering against the tinted windows. He leaned back against the leather seat, one hand lazily adjusting his cufflinks while the other tapped rhythmically on his thigh.

“Mr. Veylen,” his assistant, Jordan, spoke carefully from the front seat. “Would you like me to prepare your notes for the board meeting tomorrow?”

“No,” Adrian said, his voice low, but there was a sharp edge to it. “Instead… I want you to find everything about her.”

Jordan hesitated. “The woman at the press conference?”

Adrian’s gray eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Elara Cruz.”

Jordan nodded stiffly. “Background check? Career history?”

“Everything,” Adrian said. He lifted his glass of scotch from the console, swirling it slowly. “Family, education, projects, debts, even the color she hates the most. I want her life laid bare.”

Jordan swallowed. “But why Sir?" Adrian turn to his assistant. Jordan clear his voice. "If you don't mind me asking sir."

"I like her, sa tingin ko marami akong matututunan sakaniya." Jordan nodded. "Yes, sir copy.”

Silence filled the car again, but Adrian’s mind wasn’t silent. He replayed the moment her eyes had burned with fury, the way her voice cracked but didn’t waver. 'You ruined my life, Mr. Veylen. This is not drama. This is war.'

A smirk curved his lips. War, huh? It had been a long time since anyone had dared to declare war on him—face-to-face, in public. ”Let's see how you gonna stand by your words.”

And damn, she was beautiful when she was angry. Those red lips...damn.. it's like something urge me to kiss her.

---

Meanwhile, in a nearby café, Elara slammed her cup of lukewarm coffee on the table.

“Arrogant jerk!” she spat, earning a few curious glances from other customers. “Nakakainis siya, Mia! I swear, kung may batong malapit kanina, ibinato ko na sa mukha niya.”

Across from her, Mia, her childhood best friend, stifled a laugh but reached out to pat her hand. “Calm down, girl. You went viral in, like, five minutes. I saw clips on T*****r already. You looked like some kind of—”

“Crazy woman?” Elara groaned, burying her face in her palms.

“No,” Mia said with a grin, “like a heroine. Alam mo yung leading lady na lumalaban sa bida na kontrabida? Ganun!”

”Maraming comments tulad nito, ”Ang lakas ng loob niya para sugudin ang nagiisang trilionaire”

”Grabe, totoo palang nagnanakaw siya ng project ng maliliit na architect?”

Elara peeked between her fingers, groaning louder. “Hindi ko gusto maging heroine sa pelikula niya, Mia. Gusto ko lang makuha ulit yung mga proyekto ng Papa ko. Tapos biglang siya—” She mimicked Adrian’s smug expression, lowering her voice mockingly. “‘If you want to protect your father’s dream, come work for me.’ Ugh! Nakakainis siya!”

Mia giggled at her impression. “Grabe, Elara. Ang intense niya, no? Pero… teka lang, bakit parang may spark? The way he looks at you nanlalagkit na para bang—”

“Spark?” Elara nearly choked on her coffee. “Girl, spark agad? He’s the enemy. The devil himself. Walang spark-spark!”

Mia raised her brows knowingly. “Uh-huh. Pero umamin ka, pogi siya.”

Elara rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. “Pogi nga, pero mas malakas ang aura ng—” She paused, struggling for words. “Aura ng kayabangan, aura ng magnanakaw. Gets mo na?”

Mia leaned back, sipping her frappe. “Whatever you say. Pero careful, ha? Lalaki pa rin yun. Alam mo namang may charm yung mga ganung tipo. Yung tipong hindi mo mamamalayan, nakaka-fall ka na. He's famous for being ruthless, girl.”

Elara shook her head violently. “Never. Hindi ako tanga, Mia. I’ll never bow to him. And pwede ba stop saying that. It's annoying.”

---

Across the city, Cassandra Vail lounged in Adrian’s penthouse, a glass of red wine swirling in her manicured hand. She had been his friend since childhood, his shadow in the world of money and power.

But tonight, her usual calm was disturbed.

That woman.

Cassandra’s lips curled into a thin line as she replayed the scene from earlier. Adrian’s hand reaching for Elara’s, his eyes lingering on her longer than they should have. ”Damn it!”

Something twisted in Cassandra’s chest—jealousy, sharp and sour.

“No woman has ever made him look twice,” she whispered to herself, pacing the marble floor. “Until her. That bitch..”

”He's mine, Adrian is mine. He is mine!!” A loud shout echos in her room.

Her wine glass clinked against the table as she set it down with a little too much force.

If Adrian’s attention was shifting… then Cassandra had to shift too. And she knew exactly how to play the game— manipulation, whispers, poison disguised as truth.

She would not let some no-name architect steal what she had guarded all her life. ”This is your play, and i know how to play too.. Elara Cruz...”

---

Later that night, Elara sat in her small apartment, sketching furiously on her father’s old drafting table. Lines crisscrossed the paper, but her mind wasn’t on the design. It was on him.

Why does he think he owns everything? Why does he think he owns me?

Her pencil snapped in half. She let out a frustrated groan, tossing it aside.

Her phone buzzed.

She reached for it absentmindedly, expecting Mira’s usual string of memes. But when she saw the sender, her breath caught.

Adrian Veylen.

Her chest tightened. How did he even get her number? And where the hell did he get my number?

With shaky fingers, she opened the message.

"Adrian Veylen: Join my company as lead architect."

"Or watch your father’s projects disappear. Forever."

Elara’s blood turned to ice. This guy is really getting to her nerves.

Her phone nearly slipped from her hand.

Was this blackmail? A threat? Or just another move in his twisted game?

Her vision blurred with rage, but beneath it was something else—fear.

What if he could really erase everything? What if this was the only way to protect her father’s dream?

She pressed her palms to her face, heart racing.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “I won’t let him win. Hindi ako magpapa-kontrol sa kanya.”

But even as she said it, her phone buzzed again.

"Adrian Veylen: You have 24 hours."