Semua Bab A Forbidden Night with a Stranger (English) : Bab 81 - Bab 90

A week after Yna left, Janus stood before the glass doors of Dela Merzcid Real Estate—the firm originally built and registered in Alas’s name, seized only because of his father’s endless greed. So many lies and schemes had led to that loss, but now, having learned the full truth of everything that had happened, and realizing Alas had been innocent all along, Janus knew there was only one path left: to make things right. “Sir, everything is prepared,” the company secretary, Ms. Santos, said gently as she guided him toward the boardroom. “All documents transferring full ownership back to Mr. Alas Dela Merzcid have been signed and notarized. You only need to countersign the final papers, and the company will legally be his once more.” Janus nodded slowly, glancing at the framed photographs lining the hallway—shots of early projects, groundbreaking ceremonies, and teams gathered around the man who had built it all from nothing. He remembered how hard Alas had worked: late nights, skipp

AS expected, every word Janus had told him was true—the moment Alas stepped through the glass doors of the little shake house in Havana, his eyes found her instantly. Yna stood behind the counter, her hands moving steadily and surely as she poured drinks, handed out straws, and smiled at every customer who approached. She looked thinner than he remembered, as if she had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders for months, and there were faint shadows beneath her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and quiet worries. Yet there was a soft, steady warmth in her gaze, a quiet strength that made his chest ache so deeply it almost hurt to breathe. For two whole weeks now, he had come here every single day. He would park his rented car a short distance away, smooth his shirt, and walk in with his head bowed, always wearing the same dark cap pulled low over his eyes. He never stayed long—just long enough to order the same strawberry shake and a serving of crispy fries, sit by the win

ONE month after Yna and Alas returned home from Cuba, their lives had changed in ways they once could only have dared to dream of. After all the tears, the betrayals, the near-deaths and the months of unbearable separation, they had finally stepped into the quiet, steady happiness they had spent so long fighting for. The old fear—the constant, tight-chested dread that something or someone would tear them apart—was gone. In its place was only soft joy, and a warm, unshakable hope as they waited together for the birth of their first child. Yna was now seven months pregnant, her baby bump round and impossible to miss beneath the soft, tailored dresses she wore to work—and yet, she had never been more driven. Jonathan had formally named her the new Chief Executive Officer of Cortes Enterprise, his trust in her complete and unshakable. He had apologized to her a hundred times over for turning her away that terrible night, for letting pride and anger blind him to the truth, and handing he

THE morning sun spilled soft gold through the lace curtains of Yna’s childhood bedroom, catching the tiny beads sewn into the hem of her wedding gown and turning them into scattered stardust. The air smelled of jasmine from the bouquet on her vanity and the sweet pandesal her mom had left on a tray, untouched. Her hands trembled a little as she stared at her reflection — she barely recognized the woman looking back, glowing in ivory silk, her hair swept up with a single strand of pearls. “Congratulations, Yna. Finally, you will settle for good. I’m so proud of you,” Marie said from the doorway, her voice thick with tears as she pressed a hand over her mouth. She had waited so long for this day — had cried through so many nights when Yna came home brokenhearted, when she’d run away to Cuba, when it felt like the world was determined to break her only daughter. It felt like only yesterday Yna was seven years old, running around the garden with mud on her knees, declaring she would neve

WHEN the last guest hugged them goodbye and the final chord of their first dance faded, confetti still clung to Yna’s hair and the hem of her gown trailed crushed rose petals behind them. Alas didn’t drive them to the glass-walled penthouse the wedding planner had booked months before—the one with the infinity pool overlooking the bay and silk sheets scattered with a thousand fresh red roses. Instead, he turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road uphill, toward the city’s oldest cemetery, tucked between ancient acacia trees on a bluff where Manila Bay spread below like crushed silver under the first pricks of starlight. The car still smelled like her jasmine bouquet and his pine cologne; his palm was still slightly sweaty, marked with faint half-moon indentations from gripping hers so tight through the vows. Yna blinked, shifting in the passenger seat and wiggling her sore toes—she’d kicked off her satin heels ten minutes earlier, bare feet propped on the dashboard, her new gold wedding b