All Chapters of Entangled: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The hallway smelled faintly of spilled liquor and expensive cologne, quiet now that most of the club had emptied. The earlier chaos had drained into the city, leaving behind a thin stillness broken only by the muted hum of air conditioning and the shuffle of tired footsteps. Tristan stood at the far end, a tall figure cut sharp against the soft light of dawn. His silhouette looked almost staged, as if the universe had dimmed everything else so he could exist in full clarity.Sofia’s friends slowed, their laughter faltering into nervous silence. The jokes that had bounced off the walls minutes ago now died on their lips as an entirely different kind of electricity filled the corridor. Even drunk, even exhausted, they recognized a shift in the air.It was Tristan who broke it. His voice was calm, low. “You shouldn’t be walking out in this state. Come with me. I’ll give you somewhere to rest until you’re sober.”Her roommates reacted instantly.“Oh my God,” Pia whispered, eyes wide. “Tri

Sofia woke to the smell of garlic rice and coffee. Her head throbbed, her throat dry, and her blanket was tucked neatly under her chin. She blinked up at her ceiling, confusion fogging her mind.Then the door burst open.“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!” Lani sang, dropping onto the edge of her bed with Pia and Marco crowding behind her, all three grinning like they’d been waiting hours for this.Sofia groaned. “What time is it?”“Time for us to tell you the story of your life,” Pia said, eyes wide with delight.Marco nodded solemnly. “Last night, you passed out in Tristan Jacinto’s car. And guess who carried you up the stairs like a telenovela lead?”Sofia sat up too fast, her head pounding. “What?”Lani slapped her knee. “Girl, you missed it! He scooped you up like you weighed nothing and walked into this apartment like he owned the whole building. I swear, I thought the neighbors would faint.”Pia clasped her hands dramatically. “We witnessed a billionaire in your bedroom, Sofie.

Tristan was used to three things: attention, access, and agreement.Deals bent his way, doors opened before he asked, women leaned closer just by him raising an eyebrow. His world was built on yes. From boardrooms to private clubs, from political dinners to product launches, Tristan Jacinto existed in a universe that wrapped itself neatly around his influence. His name alone softened negotiations. His presence made people sit straighter. Even silence worked in his favor.Which was why Sofia Reyes’ no had lodged itself like a splinter under his skin.She avoided him like a plague. She dodged his gaze, hurried her steps, made excuses with a trembling politeness that was almost more cutting than outright rejection. She didn’t seem impressed, not by the cars, the name, the empire. She treated him like he was… normal. That alone was an insult in his world. Or maybe a challenge. Probably both.And instead of annoying him, it intrigued him.Sitting in his office at Nova Technologies, glass w

The first course arrived in silence, delicate plates of seared tuna with ginger and lime. The dish looked like something out of a magazine spread, each slice arranged with almost surgical precision, the citrus aroma rising lightly with the steam. Sofia picked at hers cautiously, her fork tapping the edge of the plate as she tried to focus on eating rather than the pressure building in her chest. Her gaze slipped often to the glowing skyline outside. Manila sprawled endlessly below, a carpet of lights against the velvet dark. The distant hum of the city seemed to cradle the ridge, giving the illusion that they were suspended above the world rather than sitting in a quiet private room.Tristan, by contrast, seemed completely at ease. He sipped his wine, watching her with the patience of a man who had never needed to rush for anyone’s attention. His posture was relaxed, shoulders steady, his expression unreadable in a way that made her hyper aware of every movement she made. He looked li

The apartment was chaos, the kind that only happened when four adults tried to squeeze a thirty-person party into a three-bedroom unit. Streamers were taped crookedly to the walls, balloons dangled from the ceiling fan, and the table was stacked high with pancit, fried chicken, and Lani’s one non-negotiable: lechon.“It’s tradition,” Lani had declared earlier that week, hands on her hips. “You don’t turn thirty without a lechon. The ancestors will be offended.”By eight in the evening, the music was blasting from a Bluetooth speaker, neighbors were already knocking lightly on the walls, and the room buzzed with the chatter of friends and coworkers. Rina showed up with two of her officemates, bearing ice cream and a karaoke mic. The tiny living room filled fast with laughter, food, and the shuffle of people squeezing past one another.Sofia was stringing fairy lights along the balcony when the knock came.Lani, wearing a sparkly crown that read Dirty Thirty, bounced to the door. She fr