Morning in Makati dawned battered with stormlight.The Billion estate was abnormally still—too still to be a war house. Outside the high windows, reporters filled the gates, their voices swallowed up by glass, their cameras flashing silver, ravenous eyes.Within, Fiona stood in the mirror of the east parlor, her own image still. Her hair was tied back, a plain cream suit wrapping around her. No jewels. No cosmetics designed to hide. Just her—stable, white, unyielding.The door creaked open behind her.Charles stepped in, already on edge from calls and threats of the board. His tie lay loose, his eyes darkened. "You don't have to do this," he told her.Fiona didn't move. "If I don't, we lose more than reputation."He took a step closer. "They'll tear you apart, Fiona. These people—""Have already tried," she interrupted softly. "And I'm still standing."He halted. Her reflection confronted his. For a long second, there was no speech.Then there was another figure: Madam Jamaica, standi
Last Updated : 2025-10-23 Read more