LOGINDalia Reyes came to the city chasing dreams—not trouble. But being undocumented means she’s always one step away from losing everything she’s worked for. Cleaning condos for people who don’t even know her name, she’s learned to survive quietly, invisibly… until one bad day throws her right into the path of Lucas Daniels the cold, arrogant, impossibly handsome billionaire heir who seems to have it all, except what he wants most: his father’s approval. When Lucas powerful father demands he “settle down” or lose his inheritance, Dalia becomes the most unlikely solution to his very expensive problem. The deal is simple: a fake marriage. Six months. No strings attached. But nothing about their arrangement stays simple for long. Because somewhere between the lies, the late-night arguments, and the moments they forget it’s all pretend—Dalia starts to feel something dangerously real. And when secrets from both their worlds collide, they’ll have to decide what’s worth saving: the truth, their freedom… or each other.
View MoreLucas POV “Oh, come on, dude. Don’t even try to play me,” Jacob said, throwing me that cocky college-era smirk, the one that screamed I’ve cracked the code on Lucas again. “I know exactly why you’re still holding on to her. It’s the heir thing, right? That whole pact you made with your dad before he handed over the company keys.” I didn’t even flinch. Just tipped my beer back, took a slow sip, and shrugged. “Yeah, that was the original plan.” Jacob damn near spat out his drink, laughing like a hyena. “Called it! I know you better than you know yourself, bro.” “Shut. Up,” I hissed, jabbing him in the ribs with my elbow. “You’re being loud as hell. The door’s cracked open, idiot.” He twisted around dramatically to check, then flopped back against the couch. “Chill. Whole floor’s empty. It’s literally just us guys.” “Still,” I muttered, sinking deeper into the cushions. “And what are you even doing crashing my sick day? I’m supposed to be recovering in peace, not getting roasted ab
Dalia’s POV “Dalia! I’m here!” I practically jumped out of my seat the moment I spotted Jessie coming toward me. I hurriedly shoved my luggage trolley aside and rushed to meet her. I had just gotten off a long flight from the Philippines, and normally, I would’ve felt utterly exhausted—but today, surprisingly, I didn’t. Maybe it was because my heart felt lighter, freer. For the first time in a while, I could think about myself without guilt or worry. “I missed you!” Jessie pulled me into a tight hug, and I felt all the tension of the flight melt away instantly. “I missed you too,” I whispered back, holding her just as tightly. She then grabbed my trolley without missing a beat. “Let me handle your bags,” she said, practically snatching the handle from my hands. “Hey, don’t get too excited. Your pasalubong won’t disappear,” I teased, nudging her playfully. “Just making sure… wait, did I bring dried mangoes?” she asked with a mischievous grin. “Ten packs,” I replied, unable to
I sank weakly onto the sofa in our tiny living room, my body finally surrendering now that there was nothing left to do. My legs throbbed, my shoulders ached, and my feet felt like they had walked every street in the barangay twice. After three straight days of running around for the fiesta—cooking, greeting guests, smiling until my cheeks hurt—this was the exact moment exhaustion decided to collect its debt. But it wasn’t the bad kind of tired. It was the kind that made you smile even while your muscles screamed in protest. The kind that came from shared laughter, endless plates of food, and the familiar chaos of family talking over one another. I was exhausted, yes—but deeply, undeniably happy. Because for once, I wasn’t rushing anywhere. I wasn’t performing. I was simply home. “Tired?” I paused and turned my head. Mom was walking toward me, wiping her hands on a dish towel, having just escorted the very last guest out the door. “A little,” I admitted honestly. “But it’s okay.
Lucas POVIt’s only been two days since Dalia left to visit her family, but somehow it feels like I’ve been stuck in this waiting game for a lifetime. I miss her—so damn much. The kind of missing that settles in your chest and refuses to leave, no matter how much you distract yourself.We talk all the time, obviously. Calls, texts, and voice notes squeezed in between her family dinners and random errands. But no matter how constant it is, it still doesn’t fix the problem. Because she’s not here. She’s not curled up beside me, not stealing the blanket, not laughing at my bad jokes. And knowing she’s not physically next to me makes my brain spiral like it’s training for the Olympics.It’s not that I don’t trust her. I do. Completely. With my life. With my heart. With my last slice of pizza.It’s just… my stupid instincts.They love dragging me back to the past, replaying worst-case scenarios like a badly edited highlight reel. The kind I’ve already lived through once—fast relationships,















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