Semua Bab ALMS TO LOVE: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The Grand Aurelio Hotel's lights glowed like gold in the Manila night sky. Glass spires glittered. Smiles cost more than Fiona's whole closet. The red carpet was no metaphor—it existed.Fiona hitched up the hem of her borrowed, too-tight, too-revealing sapphire slip. She got out of the car with shaky legs and borrowed nerve.“I shouldn’t be here,” she murmured, clutching her bag like a lifeline.“Stop that,” Valeria Jayne whispered, looping her arm through Fiona’s. “You look like a goddess and you’re walking into Olympus. Head high, chest out. You’re with me, remember?”“I’m a public school teacher with a dying daughter. These people own helicopters.”Valeria snorted. "Exactly why I brought you. You need air. Hope. A miracle. Who knows—maybe you'll find someone who can write one."Fiona didn't even have time to reply before they were engulfed by blinding lights, champagne giggles, and conversations laced with egos.Inside the ballroom, chandeliers hung dripping with crystals. Waiters

Fiona bit her lip, holding back tears.“Thank you, baby.”“I love you more than yucky soup.”“I love you more than all the stars.”“Even the ugly ones?”“Even the ugly ones.”The call ended, and Fiona sat still, eyes closed.When she finally stood, she wasn’t the same woman who walked into that marble room an hour ago.She was a mother with a mission.And soon… she’d become the wife of a man who didn’t believe in love—but might be about to learn just how dangerous it was to underestimate a woman fighting for her child.Outside, the music throbbed and laughter spilled through velvet curtains, but in this room—this private little war zone—the air was still.Fiona stepped in slowly, phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline, the ghost of her daughter’s voice still echoing in her chest.Charles Billion stood near the tinted window, watching the city lights shimmer below. One hand held a crystal glass of scotch, the other rested on a leather folder placed deliberately on the table between

"She'll be okay," Charles told him, coldness in his tone. "She knows the conditions.""Terms?" Jamaica's cackle was cold and lethal. "Sweetheart, this is not a merger. This is your last chance to show me that you're not emotionally constipated. I want fireworks. Passion. Love burning in her eyes. True or false. Because if I get so much as a sniff of pretension, I'm shipping it all to your cousin Daniel. And that kid thinks Excel is a nightclub."Charles closed his eyes. The headache was already there, knocking like a collector.“You’ll meet her,” he said. “Just… not yet.”“Oh,” she purred. “You’re protecting her already. How romantic.”“I’m protecting the arrangement,” he growled."Mhm. Alright." Silence. And then, in a completely matter-of-fact voice, as if ordering coffee. "Brunch with family. Sunday. No exceptions. I want smiling faces and holding hands. And for goodness' sake, Charles, do not look like someone has just blown away your Labrador."CLICK.It was over.Charles glared

Fiona didn't blink.She turned to him deliberately, lashes low over her eyes, voice as cool as glass."You paid for a wife, Charles. Not a puppet."He smiled. "Same thing.""No," she replied, smile tenuous. "A puppet doesn't bleed when you cut it."Charles's jaw clamped down. The spark in his eyes cooled to something harsher—something that resembled eerily respect. or maybe, fear. Of a woman who couldn't be fully owned.Fiona sat up straighter, crossing her legs intentionally.You want me polished? Good. I'll shine like a diamond and your grandmother will think I breakfast on them. But talk to me like that one more time, and God as my witness, I'll show you what a peddler does to a billionaire in public."Charles's eyebrow shot up. "I'm accustomed to being obeyed.""Then this is going to be a hell of an rude awakening."His jaw clenched. "Do not test me, Fiona.She moved forward now, chin lifted, heels snapping like gunfire on the marble floor."Test you? Sweetie, I endured worse than

Fiona threw him a side-eye that could curdle cream. "Yes. Thrilling stuff. Eggs and. economics."Jamaica didn't bat an eye. Her eyes flashed between them like a lie detector in stilettos."Oh?" she cooed. "Because from where I was standing, it appeared as though my grandson was being romanced… or intimidated."Fiona smiled innocently, her hands folded. "Can't it be both?"Jamaica released a soft, husky laugh. "Now that's an answer I can admire."Charles placed his glass on the table. "We're just fine, Lola.""Hmm." Jamaica's gaze jumped to Fiona. "You're smart. I like that. But smartness can be perilous if not seasoned with discipline."Fiona did not blink. "So can power if not seasoned with grace."There was a moment of dead silence.Charles blinked. Even the butler hesitated mid-pour.Then—Madam Jamaica let out a slow, pleased clap."Well. Aren't you just full of surprises," she said, voice like the crackle of a vintage record. "Perhaps you can make it through this circus."Fiona s