All Chapters of FLOWER OF LOVE: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

“I’m fine now, Dixal. You don’t have to hold me,” she said softly, stopping him when she turned and felt his hand still clasped around her arm. “Amor, you’re pale—” “I said I’m fine.” Her voice pressed with a quiet urgency as she slipped out of the kitchen and hurried into her room. Facing the mirror, she caught her reflection—indeed, her face had lost its color. Something inside her felt off; the headaches had been coming more often lately. But beyond the pain was something heavier—an ache she couldn’t quite name. Today was supposed to be just another day, yet her mind was spinning with too many thoughts she couldn’t shut out. What did Dixal mean when he said Joven would use her against him? That didn’t make sense. Joven wasn’t that kind of man—or at least, he wasn’t before. Back then, he could barely meet her eyes. He was polite, even timid around her. But what she saw today, what she heard him say, was nothing like the man she once knew. He had changed. Maybe Dixal was ri

Flora Amor didn’t mind the smoke belching from passing jeeps or the dust swirling along the roadside that morning. She only cared about catching a bus—any bus bound for Baclaran—so she could transfer from there to another one headed to FOL Builders. If she got off at EDSA, she’d have to climb the footbridge again before taking a jeep to work. Like everyone else waiting, she craned her neck forward, hoping a bus would appear soon. She was used to the morning rush—the chaos, the pushing, the sweat. It didn’t matter if she arrived looking like she’d run through a storm, as long as she wasn’t late. All her effort in waking up early would be wasted if she arrived past time because of the traffic—or worse, because no bus stopped. But just as one finally appeared on the horizon, a sleek car pulled up abruptly in front of her. She instinctively stepped forward, trying to get past it, when a man’s voice called her name. “Ma’am Flora Amor!” Startled, she turned toward the sound. It

“Grandpa?” Veron blurted out in surprise the moment she turned and saw the old man walking toward them. Flora Amor, dirt smudged on her face and barely recognizable to others, couldn’t help but stare. The man’s posture was still upright despite his age, his movements steady, his aura commanding. His presence alone silenced the once-bustling canteen as he drew closer. “What’s going on here, Veron?” the old man asked, his brows narrowing as his sharp eyes darted between them. Flora Amor’s heart began to hammer inside her chest when their gazes met. There was something disturbingly familiar about his face—the probing eyes, the expression that hovered between kindness and cruelty. An unspoken danger emanated from him, and she quickly lowered her gaze when his stare lingered on her. “Grandpa, I just wanted to teach her a lesson,” Veron whimpered, raising her reddened hand as if to show proof. “Look at this! It’s all because of that slut. My hand got burned because of her!” The old man

“It’s enough, Amor. I have more important things to show you. I’ll introduce you to the company’s shareholders,” Dixal said as he approached and turned toward the artificial intelligence robot. “But I’m not done asking him yet. I think he got my name wrong,” she protested, her brows knitting in confusion. He took her hand gently, guiding her into the chair he had just vacated and turning it toward the monitor before facing the robot again. “Dante, show us the photos and names of FOL Builders’ shareholders.” “Yes, Mr. Amorillo,” replied the robot in its calm, mechanical tone. The first image flashed onto the screen—a man she recognized at once. “You’ve seen Mr. Donald Randall before, haven’t you? He’s Shelda Randall’s father,” Dixal said in a measured tone. She nodded slowly, though her mind lingered on what the robot had called her earlier. Something about it unsettled her. When Dixal noticed her sudden silence, he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoul

Dixal’s eyebrows were drawn tight as he stared at the HR memorandum stating that Flora Amor was being reassigned to the Finance Department as Veron’s personal assistant. “Two things can happen now,” Lemuel said, standing in front of the desk while Dixal sat on its edge, one foot planted on the cold tiles. “Either they bully Flora Amor over there, or she ends up clashing with Veron. And you know Veron—she’ll never let Flora beat her at anything. Your wife won’t back down either. But you can’t oppose this move, not with the heavy accusation pinned on her right now.” Dixal dragged a hand down his face and slammed the memo onto the table, his mind replaying what happened at yesterday’s emergency meeting. “I’m suing this company for breach of contract—for using substandard materials in my residential project!” an elderly shareholder had shouted from one end of the conference table. At the head of the room, Dixal calmly rolled a pen between his fingers, listening without a hint of emo