Lahat ng Kabanata ng Love in Deceit: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

It was ten minutes on the dot when the front desk buzzed her.She had been anticipating this. Her heart skipped a beat faster, and she felt a little sweat even in the closet. She had an excessive desire to impress but tried to keep it calm. But her pulse betrayed her.When she reached the reception of her office, he was already there.Alexei Igor, in a tailored navy suit and an easy grin that made her rosy cheeks deepen in color, was gorgeous. Though not like Vladimir, one could easily make an argument about that.He held a coffee carrier and a small brown bag. His eyes immediately glowed at the sight of her.“Miss Ayala,” he said dramatically, offering the bag like a peace offering. “For you, my lady. Anything stronger than coffee in the morning is scary. Are you scary?She raised a brow. “You’re scared ?” She said, laughing.“No, I’m just cautious,” he said, stepping closer. “Every time I hear you talk or get closer to you, you become even more interesting.”“And that doesn’t scare

AYALA’S POVA smile had become a regular on Ayala’s face ever since Alexei crept into her life. She had begun to smile freely and unguarded. It started out faint. Hesitant. Almost involuntary at first, but grew into something genuine. The kind of smile that slips out when someone makes you feel momentarily seen—not for what you offer, or what you’re caught between, but for something simpler. Something almost forgotten.Alexei had that effect on her.He made her laugh when her mind was still bothered about Vladimir’s recent silence game. He texted her jokes between meetings and was attentive to the smallest details. He called her “ocean eyes” in a tone so confident, she wondered if he actually meant it or just knew how much words meant to her.And she wanted to be noticed, desperately.After all, Vladimir hadn’t spoken to her since she’d claimed, in front of his cousin no less, that they were dating. No follow-up. No confrontation. No mockery. Nothing.He had simply let the lie sit t

Alexei had made it a ritual to always visit Ayala at her office. She once looked forward to it, but now she dreaded it so much. She was tired of the pretense and double life. It made her sick.The door to her office clicked open softly. Ayala prayed it wasn't going to be him. But it was. Her heart pounded as he stepped in. The faint, unmistakable scent of his perfume filled the room already. Once he got in, his eyes landed on her, cold and calculating. He went to give her a kiss on her forehead and stared at her with false affection.“Working late again?” he questioned, drawing her further to him. She could feel his hardness. Of course, that's all that mattered to him.“Yes,” Ayala replied, trying to sound more tired than she truly was. She remembered when she hurried up her daily activities just to spend extra hours with him. Now she moved with snail's speed to avoid him. She was tired. Tired of everything. The lies, the pretending, the quiet game she was forced to play. It was exha

She laughed less. She had a glow down, I could no longer see those pretty stars in her eyesHe noticed, but it wasn't in his place to say anything.He noticed in the small things. In the quiet way she entered the office. The forced smile that barely touched her eyes. The coffee she used to drink hot now sat cooling at her desk, untouched. Her fingers fidgeted when she thought no one was looking, tracing invisible lines on her notepad like she needed grounding.Vladimir had told himself he didn’t care anymore. He’d made that decision weeks ago—pushed her out of his bed, out of his heart, and into the arms of someone he should’ve never trusted.Alexei.He knew what kind of man Alexei could be when he wanted something—cold, possessive, entitled. But he had fooled himself into thinking Ayala would be smart enough to keep her distance. That she’d learn. That she wouldn’t… fall.But she had. He had lost her and though he blamed Alexei, he knew he was the one to blame and he hated himself mo

He began with the apology I expected: I’m sorry, I pushed, I was jealous, I was scared of losing you—each sentence delivered with theatrical pauses as if he’d rehearsed them, written them on a piece of paper, and retained them in his memory. Yet something in his voice—hoarse—seemed sincere. He sounded fragile, making it impossible to dismiss him outright. He looked tired. Miserable.I tried to keep my answers spare. Thank you for apologizing. I need space. This can’t happen again. I really wanted to stand my ground. Though he looked sad, I was placing myself and my emotions over his.However, my resolve wavered when he started speaking about my father’s company—how the new credit line was fragile, how an anonymous guarantor (him, he implied) could withdraw at any time, how investors were fickle unless someone “competent” kept them reassured. Every sentence tightened a thread around my chest. It was the old game of leverage and gratitude but dressed in sorrow instead of fury.When I s