Semua Bab Hiding the Billionaire’s Son (HCS 1): Bab 1 - Bab 10

Prologue Lucy’s POV Luciandra Azalea Valmonte Sander. Every time I hear my full name being introduced at conferences, sa mga boardroom, or in glossy magazines, may maliit pa ring kirot na hindi nawawala. Not because I’m ashamed—far from it. I’ve worked blood, sweat, and tears to deserve that name. But because behind every syllable of Architect Sander hides a past I’ve spent years burying. There was a time I wasn’t anyone. Just Lucy. Just a maid. Pero ngayon, I stand tall. The thirty-first floor of Yu Holdings smelled faintly of polished wood and old money. Golden afternoon light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the boardroom. From up here, Manila was sprawling and alive—cars inching along EDSA, jeepneys and buses fighting for space, pedestrians rushing home. The chaos felt far away. In here, it was all precision. Cold air-conditioning. Crystal water glasses. And in front of me, three of the most powerful developers in the country.

CHAPTER TWO Hope "Lucy's POV" Maaga pa lang, nakarating na kami sa Hong Kong International Airport. The flight was smooth—surprisingly calm—at salamat sa Diyos, tulog si Max halos buong biyahe. He needed the rest, and honestly, so did I. Buong gabi akong hindi nakatulog sa kaba, kakaisip kung tama ba ang desisyong ito. Hindi lang ito basta byahe—this was the escape. The beginning of something new... or maybe just a pause from the chaos we left behind. Habang bumababa kami ng eroplano at sumasabay sa agos ng mga pasaherong dumadaan sa arrival corridor, mas lalo akong ninerbiyos. Parang kumakabog ang dibdib ko ng sobrang lakas, at pakiramdam ko ay naririnig ito ng lahat. Each step felt heavier, like the weight of my past was dragging behind me kasama sa mga bitbit naming maleta. Mainit-init pa rin ang hangin kahit nasa loob kami ng airport. Amoy ko ang bagong lugar, amoy ng sanitized air, halong perfume ng mga dumadaan, at ang banayad na lamig mula sa central aircon na tila nagpapak

CHAPTER FOUR I Belong "Lucy's POV" Isang staff ang sumundo sa akin at sinamahan ako papunta sa HR floor. Along the way, napansin kong halos lahat ng makakasalubong namin ay may dalang tablet o laptop, o 'di kaya'y may kausap sa earpiece. Lahat abala. Lahat may ginagawa. Ang ilan ay mukhang pagod, ang ilan ay mukhang nakatanggap ng bonus—but they all looked like they belonged. At eto ako, pinapawisan kahit malamig ang aircon. "Ms. Naranjita?" Isang babae ang tumayo sa glass-walled conference room. Naka-all black. Malinis ang ayos. Hindi masungit pero intimidating. "I'm Ms. Analisa Penelope Fong. Let's begin." "Yes Ms. Fong," sagot ko, medyo nanginginig pa ang boses. We sat across from each other habang binuksan niya ang isang digital file sa tablet niya. "First, let me formally welcome you to the Huang Group. You were hired under the Creative Department, correct?" "Yes. Design and Campaign Division." "Good. We value fresh minds here. That's what keeps our content evolving," sh

CHAPTER SIX Saved "Lucy's POV" I looked at my sketch — isang babae na may basag na mukha, mga pirasong tila nalalaglag isa-isa. Parang maskarang hindi na kayang manatili pa sa lugar. Lugar kung saan pilit ko nang nilalayoan. My tears fell off... Hinagod ko ng daliri ang linya, pero imbes na maging maayos, mas lalo lang lumabo and my hands trembles. Huminga ako nang malalim, pero parang may bara sa lalamunan ko. My hands were trembling. At kahit pilitin kong mag-focus sa ngayon, dahan-dahan akong hinihila pabalik sa isang alaala na matagal ko nang tinabunan. Five years ago... Five years before Felix Creed, before my baby Max, before Hong Kong, before the word escape even entered my vocabulary... It was just me. Luciandra Yaffa Azalea Sander. Twenty-one, freshly graduated from the College of Fine Arts and Design, with a diploma that felt more like a question mark than a ticket to the future. The day I left the orphanage, my suitcase contained little more than a few clothes, my sk

CHAPTER EIGHTThe Second MorningThe sound of clattering metal startled me awake. For a second, I thought I had overslept—but then the scent of garlic rice and fried eggs drifted into my room, and I realized it was just Yaya Mely already working her magic in the kitchen.The thin curtains in the bedroom glowed pale gray as dawn broke over Kowloon. Outside, I could hear the hum of the city beginning its day: the low rumble of buses, the distant horns of ferries leaving Victoria Harbour, and the occasional squawk of birds darting between apartment balconies.Beside me, Max was still fast asleep, curled up into a little ball with Captain Rocket tucked under his chin. His hair stuck out in tufts, a cowlick refusing to behave. His tiny snores were soft, steady, and impossibly comforting.I reached over, brushing a hand over his warm cheek. My reason for everything.Pulling myself out of bed, I padded into the small bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. The mirror above the sink refl