Under His Care

Caramel Macchiato Incident

The world of Percy Trench Montefalco was a world of crisp suits, multi-million peso deals, and the persistent, low hum of a city he was determined to conquer. At 26, he was the young, formidable CEO of Montefalco Holdings, a real estate empire he inherited and was now expanding with ruthless efficiency. His chiseled jaw, sharp eyes, and the effortless way he carried his wealth made him the subject of every business magazine and the fantasy of many. Ngayon, his world was confined to the four corners of his Bentley, stuck in the notorious BGC traffic.

"No, I want the feasibility study on my desk by Monday. End of discussion," he said into his phone, his voice calm but with an edge of steel. He ended the call with a sigh, rubbing his temples. Minsan, nakakapagod din maging boss.

He decided to make a quick stop at his favorite coffee shop before his next meeting. It was a small detour, a little pocket of normalcy in his highly-structured life.

Meanwhile, Jocelle Shane Cruz was having a gloriously average day. At 28, she had a stable job as a Marketing Associate, a small condo she was proudly paying for, and a love for oversized sweaters. Her colleagues would often say,

"Sayang 'yang ganda mo, Celle. Pang-billboard, pero tago sa cardigans." celle would just laugh it off.

She had a face that could launch a thousand ships, with expressive brown eyes and a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, but she carried it with an unassuming grace. Para sa kanya, sapat na ang simpleng buhay.

Today was a small victory. Natapos niya ang presentation niya ahead of schedule. As a reward, she decided to treat herself to her favorite drink: an iced caramel macchiato, extra drizzle. Hawak ang kanyang premyo, she was scanning the crowded cafe for a vacant seat.

And that's when it happened.

Percy, distracted by another email pinging on his phone, pushed the glass door open just as Celle was turning away from the counter. The collision was inevitable.

"Ouch!" celle yelped as she stumbled back.

The cold, sticky liquid of her hard-earned coffee splashed across the front of a very expensive-looking, slate-gray suit.

Silence.

Celle's eyes widened in horror.

"Hala! Naku po!" Her gaze shot from the massive brown stain on the man's chest to his face. And her breath hitched. Ang gwapo. He looked like he stepped right out of a magazine cover. But his handsome face was contorted in a mask of pure annoyance.

"Shit," Percy muttered under his breath, looking down at his ruined suit. This was a Tom Ford original.

"Sir! Naku, sorry po! Sorry talaga!" celle was frantic, grabbing a fistful of tissue from the counter and dabbing uselessly at his chest.

"Hala, ang tanga-tanga ko. Pasensya na po talaga."

Percy was about to brush her off, to say a cold

"It's fine" and just leave, but when he looked at her, really looked at her, he froze. Her eyes were wide with genuine panic and apology. Walang arte. There was a smudge of chocolate on her cheek she wasn't aware of. Her simple office blouse and jeans were a stark contrast to his bespoke suit, but she wasn't looking at him with awe or calculation like most women did. She just looked... mortified. And beautiful. In a way that was both striking and incredibly gentle.

'She's older than me', was his first, strange thought. He could see it in the maturity of her features, the way she carried herself even in panic.

"Miss, it's... it's okay," he said, his voice softer than he intended. He gently stopped her hand from dabbing more tissue onto his now-sticky suit.

"It's just a suit."

"Naku, sir, hindi po 'yan 'just a suit.' Mukha pong mas mahal pa 'to sa buong sweldo ko for six months," she rambled, her face flushing a deep crimson.

"Please, hayaan niyo po akong bayaran 'yung laundry f*e. Or, or... 'yung buong suit! Kahit installment!"

A small, unexpected smile tugged at Percy's lips. Installment? For a Tom Ford? The idea was absurd, yet charming.

"Don't worry about it," he said, his annoyance completely gone, replaced by a burgeoning curiosity.

"But you ruined my coffee break. And you spilled yours. So, the least you can do is let me buy you another one." Celle's eyes widened even more.

"Ay, 'wag na po! Nakakahiya. Kasalanan ko na nga po, e."

"I insist," Percy said, his CEO voice making a subtle comeback. It was a tone that rarely took no for an answer.

"What was it? Iced caramel macchiato, extra drizzle?"

He remembered. Belle was stunned. She just nodded mutely.

As Percy ordered, Celle stood awkwardly, wanting the ground to swallow her whole.

'Sino ba 'tong lalaking 'to? Artista ba? Bakit parang anghel na nalaglag sa lupa na sinapian ng demonyo kanina, tapos naging anghel ulit?'

He came back with two drinks and handed one to her. Their fingers brushed, and a small jolt, like static electricity, passed between them.

"Thank you po. And sorry ulit," Celle mumbled, staring at her cup.

"It's Percy," he said.

"Po?"

"My name. It's Percy. And you are?"

"Ah... celle. Jocelle."

"Celle," he repeated, and the way he said her name made her stomach do a little flip.

"Well, Celle. I have to go, but my suit is still crying over its untimely death."

He pulled out a sleek, black card from his wallet.

"Here. My personal number. Just in case you change your mind about that 'installment' plan." He gave her a charming, almost boyish smirk that was completely at odds with his powerful aura.

Belle took the card, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Sige po. Thank you, Percy."

He nodded, gave her one last look that lingered a bit too long, and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving Belle with a racing heart and a brand-new iced caramel macchiato.

Her gaze dropped to the card in her hand. The material was thick, the print elegant and minimalist.

Percy Trench Montefalco

Chief Executive Officer, Montefalco Holdings

Celle's jaw dropped. The coffee cup slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering onto the floor and creating a second, even bigger mess.

She had just spilled coffee on—and flirted with—*THE PERCY MONTEFALCO*.

"Patay," she whispered to the empty space where he stood.