Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Naomi could only stare at her daughter, Ileana, after putting her to sleep. Sleep refused to come to her. Before bedtime, Ileana’s favorite topic was always her father. She kept asking questions about Marco, and every answer Naomi gave was a lie. How long would she keep protecting that wretched man—good only at making a child, yet marrying another woman?

“Billionaire, pfft!” she muttered irritably as she stepped down from Ileana’s bed.

Sleep would not visit her tonight. Maybe she should not have allowed her parents to return to the hotel. She wished she had someone with her now. But perhaps it was better that only she and her daughter were there. Her parents might notice how scattered her thoughts were, as if her mind had suddenly grown wings.

She could not erase the image she had seen earlier. She kept wondering if Marco and Marcus were truly the same person.

She went to the kitchen and took a cup to make coffee. Tomorrow, she and Aliyah had to wake up early to prepare the bride and the sponsors, yet she could not bring herself to rest. Her mind was completely occupied. She felt stressed every time Ileana mentioned the word “father,” but there was nothing she could do.

The next day, Naomi’s mother arrived early to watch over Ileana. Their entire team would be staying overnight since the wedding was scheduled for the following day. Their client was high-profile but extremely private. Unlike other wealthy people who hired several makeup artists, everything about this wedding was kept discreet. Apparently, it was forbidden for the public to know about it because the groom was an actor, and his contract did not allow him to have a wife. To Naomi, that was complete nonsense.

“Come in, Mom,” Naomi said, but her mother immediately touched her neck.

“Are you sick?”

“H–Huh? No, Mom. Maybe I’m just tired,” she said as an excuse.

“Don’t overwork yourself. Why exhaust yourself when your father and I have savings? Ileana needs you,” her mother reminded her.

“Yes, Mom. I know. I’ll be leaving now. Our call time is 5:30. You can explain things to Ileana,” she said, kissing her mother on the cheek. Carrying her backpack, she stepped outside. Her father was already waiting to drive her to their destination. She had no idea how she would tell them what she had discovered.

Her father would explode once he learned that Marco was alive—or should she call him Marcus? In the end, she chose to remain silent until they reached the venue where her coworkers were waiting.

As she held the car door handle, James suddenly took her hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Of course, Dad. Why?” she forced a smile.

“Nothing. When you picked up Ileana at the hotel last night, you looked troubled. And now, your thoughts seem far away.”

“Maybe I’m just thinking about Mister del Heirro’s wedding,” she said. “I’m tense because we might receive negative feedback. This is our first big-time client. He’s not just a millionaire—he’s a billionaire superstar.”

“Well, stay positive and accept negative feedback. If something needs improvement, then improve it. That’s how work is. You won’t always get everything right. You just need to accept your mistakes and learn from them,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back and kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Dad. Drive safely.”

“You too.”

As soon as she stepped out of the car, the van arrived. Her father reminded the driver to be careful before leaving. She felt grateful for her parents’ love. She had made serious mistakes in the past and almost lost them, but they could never abandon her—or the child she was carrying then.

She would never disappoint them again. But what did she truly feel after seeing Marco again? She could not explain it. All that filled her heart was pain and hatred. Nothing more.

Naomi forced herself to compose her emotions so she could perform her job properly. Professionalism, she reminded herself. Still, no matter how beautiful the bride’s makeup was, it felt as though heaven and earth had conspired in favor of the groom. And to be fair, Zente Larazo del Heirro looked like a demigod—astonishingly handsome in real life. No wonder his films had earned billions since his youth.

His bride, Solana, was a simple woman, as were her relatives. Naomi wondered how the two ended up together. They seemed worlds apart. Aliyah kept asking her questions, and all she could answer was, “I don’t know.” She was not part of the entertainment industry. As long as they did their job well, that was all that mattered. Aliyah simply loved gossip.

They arrived at the church—no, a chapel. It was small and hidden, yet beautifully decorated. Everyone moved swiftly, and even in high heels, Naomi remained agile.

“Best man, Niel del Prado!” Naomi called out from the list.

They were preparing for the bride’s wedding march. The groom was already there—and then she saw him.

“Niel del Prado!” she called again, scanning the men present.

“Present!”

The deep baritone voice made her lift her head, and her jaw nearly dropped when she recognized the man who spoke.

He froze upon seeing her, his brow slightly furrowing. So he did recognize her. Naomi clenched her jaw, and if she had not been educated, she would have caused a scene—especially since a woman clung to the collar of his beige tuxedo like a possessive guardian.

“Wait, babe. Your bow isn’t right. Let me fix it,” said the woman named Laureth, according to the newspaper.

“N–Niel…” Naomi nearly stammered. How did he become Niel? Tomorrow, would he be someone else entirely?

“Proxy,” he answered calmly, staring straight at her, completely ignoring his clingy girlfriend. “Niel del Prado is the groom’s cousin. He couldn’t attend because of a motorcycle accident.”

“Take your places,” Naomi said, ignoring him.

“Am I also a proxy for the groom’s father?” she asked mockingly. “The guests’ seats are over there, on the chapel bench.”

“I know,” the woman replied sharply, deliberately showing off the ring on her finger.

“I’ll stay here for now. I’ll stick with my boyfriend.”

“You need to go now, Laureth. The wedding will start any minute. I’ll be with you later,” the man said.

The woman kissed him on the lips, forcing Naomi to look away. She wanted to tell herself he was not Marco—but how could she?

The woman walked away seductively. She was undeniably beautiful—her height alone was striking. But when Naomi looked back, the man was staring directly at her.

“If you don’t mind, do I know you?” he asked.

Her irritation flared.

“I’ve only seen you today,” she replied flatly.

He nodded but continued staring at her.

To hell with this man. He had always looked at her as though she were the only woman in the world—but it had all been lies. Now he was using the same tactic, pretending not to know her simply because he had become rich.

She shook her head inwardly.

“Did you have a rehearsal?” she asked, forcing herself to sound casual.

“No. I was just asked to step in. I just returned from a long vacation abroad. Zente is a good friend of mine.”

So now he spoke fluent English too.

“You only need to stand here with the groom,” she said, noticing his smile.

She forced herself to look away. This man was undeniably Marco Ledesma. She would lose her sanity wondering if he truly was the father of her child. The Marco she knew—a tricycle driver—had no wealthy actor friends like Zente del Heirro.

Everything changed when he won the lottery. Perhaps he had already planned to leave her once money entered his life. Look at his girlfriend—beautiful and sophisticated. And here she was, wearing a denim skirt and a plain white blouse with her company’s logo.

“That’s his habit when he’s tense,” he said.

She barely glanced at him, but his eyes never left her face.

At any moment, Naomi felt she would break down. Her eyes burned, so she turned away.

“Excuse me. I’ll get the groom. Please stay here, Mister del Prado—”

“Ledesma. Marcus Ledesma,” he corrected her with a faint, seductive smile.

She nodded and walked away. This was wrong. She was still deeply affected. She had countless questions, but she refused to assume he was the Marco she once loved—especially when he pretended not to recognize her. Or perhaps he truly never loved her at all. He deceived her, took her virginity, left his seed inside her—then disappeared.

Do I know her?

That was the question echoing inside Marcus’s mind, even during the reception. It had repeated itself since the ceremony, yet he had no answer.

He felt useless—a strong man rendered helpless. He could not stop staring at the wedding coordinator. He did not know why. She looked at him as though she recognized him, or perhaps was confused by him. Maybe she was someone from his past.

Her age? Damn. She looked young. Attractive. Despite having a fiancée and an upcoming marriage, he was drawn to her simplicity. And her eyes—her eyes spoke volumes he could not understand. That was why he asked if they knew each other.

He looked at his fiancée, proudly flaunting her expensive ring and cosmetic endorsements. She called it beauty enhancement—enhancement that felt artificial to him.

The clinking of glasses snapped him back to reality. He looked at Zente and his bride. The groom’s reluctance was written all over his face.

When the newlyweds kissed, Marcus glanced at the coordinator again—and she looked back at him. She had been glancing at him earlier too. He knew he was already betraying his fiancée.

The coordinator walked toward a table. As he followed her, she suddenly left the reception hall. He stopped mid-step and could only watch her disappear.