Partnership Articles

When assertive and alpha heiress Clara Ardiente is forced to marry a dominant and cold businessman Damon Barreto, she'll have the almost but quite life. Hindi niya pa nakikilala ang businessman na magsasalba sa kanila. With their empire falling, she is desperate enough to marry that man just to save their name and wealth. Ayaw niyang mawala ang lifestyle na nakasanayan niya. Damon is a ruthless businessman and he doesn't want to have a nosy wife. Everything should be part of agreement and contract. But beneath that contract, there's an unspoken affection he can't recognize... and secrets. Hindi naman totoong pusong bato si Damon. Ang totoo ay nang makita niya si Clara ay nagandahan siya sa dalaga. Talagang pasok sa kanyang tipo kaya niya inalukan ng partnership ang pamilya Ardiente. It was easy for him to get what he wanted. Damon and his ways. Well, not for Clara. Nang makilala niya ang kanyang mapapangasawa, nagdadalawang isip siya kung talagang worth it nga ba ang pakikipagkasundo niya para lang isalba ang kanyang karangyaan. To be the wife of a ruthless business and arrogant tycoon? Medyo dehado ata siya. Pero wala na siyang takas. Lalo na noong ibinigay ni Damon lahat ng gusto ng kanyang mismong pamilya. Lalo na't may kontrata. "Go... run away. But you'll never escape me," bulong ni Damon sa kanya. "Leaving me, abandoning that contract won't save you. Kahit saan ka magpunta, you will always be Mrs. Barreto. My last name will mark you wherever you go." Gusto niyang alisin sa utak niya 'yon at magtrabaho nalang para isalba ang pangalan niya, but it was too late. Hindi na siya makakatakas pa... so she needs to live with only rule; no attachments. No falling in love. Just a contract and promises. Or that was she thought so.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.