CHAPTER 7

Dave Lorian’s Point of View

Hindi ko makakalimutan ang araw na iyon.

Ayah stood in front of me, hands trembling, eyes full of fear and anger at the same time. “I’m pregnant,” she said. Her voice cracked, pero ang titig niya matalim, para bang handa siyang ipaglaban ang bata kahit ako mismo ang kalaban niya.

I wanted to smile. God knows I wanted to grab her and say, “Thank you. Thank you for giving me something real in this hollow life.” Inside, I was rejoicing. My child. Our child. The very thought filled a hole I never knew was there.

Pero hindi ko puwedeng ipakita. Hindi ako puwedeng magmukhang mahina. Not as a Lorian, not as a CEO, not as a man who’s supposed to keep everything under control.

So instead, I crossed my arms, kept my voice flat. “We’ll handle this,” I said. Parang kontrata lang na pinipirmahan.

Ayah’s lips pressed tight, hurt flashing in her eyes. She thought I didn’t care. Truth was, I cared too much.

“Damn it, Dave,” I thought that day. “You just ruined the best moment of your life.”

The day of our wedding came faster than I expected. I wanted Ayah to have the grandest wedding — chandeliers, orchestra, flowers flown in from Amsterdam, media flashing their cameras as she walked down the aisle. She deserved to be treated like a princess — no, a queen.

Pero hindi ‘yon pwede. Not with Daphne breathing down my neck, not with the board waiting for my downfall. An extravagant wedding would’ve exposed everything — her, the baby, us.

So instead, I gave her… this. A dusty old chapel like it was hidden behind an art gallery, one desk lamp, and a stack of papers.

When she forced a smile and signed her name, my chest ached. She was trembling, pero she didn’t complain. She was stronger than I gave her credit for.

I smirked, covering the sting in my chest. “The easiest deal of my life.” My usual line, my usual mask.

But inside, it was the hardest deal I’d ever made — because it cost Ayah the dream she always deserved.

For the reception, I tried to compensate. I rented an entire fine dining restaurant just for us. Supposedly, it was meant to be private and intimate. Pero the silence was louder than any orchestra. No laughter of family, no clinking of glasses, no father giving away his daughter. Just the sound of silverware against plates.

Then Ayah looked at me and muttered, half-joking, half-hurting:

“So, ano na? Wala man lang pakain kahit pansit canton at coffee?”

I froze. Her eyes were teasing, pero may lungkot sa likod ng mga iyon. She didn’t want champagne or imported steak. She would’ve been happy with instant noodles and a cup of coffee, as long as it was real, as long as it was with me.

Her heart was so pure… too pure for a man like me. She deserved better, yet here she was, making jokes in the middle of her broken dream.

And I knew — I didn’t deserve her. But I wanted her. God, I wanted her so much that I’d take every risk, wear every mask, just to keep her close.

But I had to hide it. I always had to hide it.

The very same night, I didn’t even get to breathe. Daphne Wilson called. Hindi pwede raw akong hindi sumipot. She had that tone — the one that meant it wasn’t a request, but a command disguised as an invitation.

I found myself in Daphne Wilson’s private suite.

The irony wasn’t lost on me — I had just signed papers that made Ayah my wife, and here I was, trapped in a room with a woman I could never love.

Daphne poured me wine, her eyes sharp, her smile calculated. “Dave, don’t you think it’s time we make things… permanent?”

I already knew what she meant. Even before her hand slid across mine, even before she leaned in with that false sweetness, I knew.

“I’ve given you my loyalty, my money, my protection,” she whispered, her nails grazing my skin. “All I’m asking is one thing in return. Give me a family, Dave. Give me a child.”

My chest tightened. I wanted to push her away, to spit the truth — that I already had a family, that Ayah was my wife, that there was a child inside her who already owned every beat of my heart.

But I couldn’t. No one could know. Especially not Daphne.

So I let her touch me.

Her lips crashed against mine, her body demanding, not tender. It wasn’t love; it was possession. She kissed like she wanted to conquer me, to chain me.

“Harder… harder!” she urged, desperate, her voice slicing through me.

And in that split second, I shut my eyes, forcing myself to believe it was Ayah again. Ayah’s laugh. Ayah’s warmth. Ayah’s softness.

But when I opened them, it wasn’t her. It was Daphne — triumphant, hungry, clinging to me like shackles.

The illusion shattered. My body moved, but my soul recoiled. Every second felt like betrayal, every sound like a dagger twisting deeper.

“Once I carry your child,” Daphne whispered against my skin, breathless, “you’ll never escape me.”

Her words were poison. My stomach churned. I turned my face away, staring at the ceiling, gripping the sheets like they could keep me from falling apart.

Inside, I hated her. Inside, I hated myself more.

Because I wasn’t innocent here. I could’ve left. I could’ve said no. But I didn’t. I gave in — out of fear, out of duty, out of weakness.

And when it was over, there was no satisfaction, no peace. Just emptiness.

I dressed in silence, Daphne’s smirk plastered on her face, as if she had won something. She thought she’d tied me down tonight. She thought this act meant I belonged to her.

But she was wrong. Hindi kami pwedeng magka-anak ni Daph, that’s why I secretly poured my semen on the sheets without her noticing it.

I only want Ayah. My wife. The only woman I love. But still, the only woman I had just betrayed.

And as I walked out of Daphne’s suite, the guilt clung to me like a shadow. On the night that should’ve been hers, I had failed her in the worst way.