Chapter 1

[Future…]

The room fell silent the moment I stepped in.

Camera lights flickered. Stylists paused mid-conversation. Someone dropped a brush.

I didn't look up. I just kept walking, my heels clicking against the studio floor like nothing could touch me. I could feel their eyes tracing every inch of me, like they couldn't decide if they were impressed or intimidated. I didn't give them the satisfaction of reacting. I lifted my chin higher, smoothed down my blazer with one graceful movement, and walked through the crowd as if their thoughts didn't exist.

"Is that Liora Cortez?"

"She looks different. Mas fierce siya ngayon."

"She's the new brand face, ba?"

"Akala ko ba may scandal siya dati?"

I kept walking, my face calm and unreadable, with no hint of anger, no trace of pride only quiet strength and unshaken grace. They don't know me anymore. At ang totoo? Baka hindi naman talaga nila ako nakilala kahit kailan.

Seven years ago, they pointed fingers at me. Made me a villain in someone else's tragedy. With one viral post, a few edited screenshots, and a hundred retweets too many — I became the headline no one wanted to touch. The easy target and a monster.

I lost everything.

My scholarship. My friends. My future.

And most importantly, Him.

Thorne Lucien Silva.

He didn't fight for me. He didn't even ask if any of it was true. No questions, no explanations, not even a pause. Just that look in his eyes—cold, distant, like I had instantly turned into someone he wished he'd never met. Sa isang iglap, ako na ang mali. Ako na ang dapat layuan. I became the girl everyone suddenly felt too good for.

While the world stood by and watched me burn, I had no choice but to walk away... alone. Here I am now, I am no longer the girl they tried to break but the woman who rose from the ruin they left behind.

Liora Nyssa Cortez — makeup artist. Brand ambassador. CEO of Nyssa Beauty. Everything I lost, I rebuilt. With no name to lean on, no connections to call in. Just grit, talent, and silence. Habang abala silang lahat sa pag-cancel sa akin, tahimik kong binuo ang sarili ko.

And now? I'm back for the biggest campaign of my career.

"Ready ka na, Miss Cortez?" tanong ng assistant habang hawak ang clipboard.

I blinked, refocusing. "Always," I replied, calm and steady.

I turned a corner, stepping toward the set where the lights were positioned and the cameras stood waiting. From the crew, someone muttered, "Just waiting for the male endorser. He should be—"

"Right there."

Then the universe.... cruel and poetic as always, decided to drop the one face I never wanted to see again right in front of me.

Thorne Lucien Silva.

Lead vocalist of Fusion Five. Idol. Global sensation. The boy I once loved turned man I no longer recognized and yet, somehow, still did.

My breath caught. For one second. Maybe two.

He looked taller now or maybe it was just the way he stood, more confident than before. His jaw, once soft and boyish, was sharper now, like it had been shaped by time and everything he went through. His skin had a warm glow under the studio lights, the kind you couldn't fake. His dark brown hair was shorter, styled in that messy but perfect way that looked easy but I knew better.

Nothing about Thorne was ever easy. Hindi ang paraan ng paglalakad niya, hindi kung paano niya hawakan ang mic, at lalong hindi kung paano niya binibigkas ang pangalan ko... na para bang may ibig sabihin talaga.

And his eyes... those eyes.

His eyes were a stormy kind of gray — like wet pavement after it rains, dark and hard to read. If you looked at them long enough, you'd see stories hiding in the silence. Not just sadness, but guilt. A kind of longing. Depth. 'Yun din ang mga matang dati'y nagbibigay ng katahimikan sa'kin sa tuwing parang ang ingay-ingay ng mundo. Hindi pa rin nagbago. Hanggang ngayon, para ka parin niyang nakikita kahit wala siyang sabihin.

Speaking of lips—God. I hated that I noticed.

His lips were fuller now, slightly chapped but naturally red — the kind of deep, soft red that didn't need any color. They looked like they were meant to be kissed in the dark and remembered long after. His nose was straight and sharp, the kind that gave him a quiet kind of elegance...almost like someone too far away to reach.

Bigla siyang napalingon sa'kin, parang may nagbago sa bigat ng paligid. Bahagyang lumaki ang mga mata niya at hindi ko mabasa ang ekspresyon niya.

Then he spoke. "Liora."

Just one word. My name — soft, low, almost reverent. It wrapped around me like a memory I didn't want back.

My spine straightened. I forced my shoulders to stay square. "Mr. Silva," I said, my tone clipped and formal. "Let's keep this professional."

He blinked, startled by the ice in my voice. "Wait—can we talk?"

"No." My heels clicked against the floor as I walked past him. "We're here to work. Let's not waste anyone's time."

I didn't glance back. Instead, I settled into the chair in front of the vanity mirror, eyes locking with my reflection. I need to stay calm but I could feel the thundering in my chest. The rush of seven years' worth of rage, grief, and restraint trying to rise to the surface.

"Places!" the director called.