The expression Victor made when he was angry was still the same, though his features had changed slightly — they’d hardened. Time had left its mark, and, much to Cecilia’s dismay, it made Villafuerte look even more attractive than before.

Standing there in his custom-tailored black suit, Victor no longer looked like the impatient young man who had once viewed everyone around him as unworthy of his attention. Now, he radiated the stoicism the occasion demanded, or at least, he had until he saw her.

Against her will, Cecilia wondered if Victor might be thinking the same thing she was. Did he find her more attractive now too? Was he regretting leaving her? Or worse, was he pleased with how easily he had deceived her when she was younger? Most likely the second. Villafuerte was probably annoyed because running into the person he had hurt and conned years ago threatened his reputation.

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds until Victor's expression shifted from hatred to cold contempt. And it hurt, sharply, because that same cruel look had been the one he gave her when their relationship ended.

“Victor,” Cecilia had said, staring at the suitcases he’d left in the foyer, all packed with her belongings, ready for her to take and leave the apartment. She held back tears. She couldn’t believe this. Victor couldn’t possibly have grown tired of her. He was hiding the real reason he was pushing her away.

“Tell me,” she demanded, standing firm, “tell me why you don’t love me anymore. Convince me it’s true and I’ll go.”

“I can’t tell you,” Victor replied coldly.

“Then if you can’t say it-it’s because you still—” a spark of hope flickered in Cecilia’s chest.

Victor scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cecilia. It’s simple. I can’t tell you I don’t love you because I never started to.”

“What?” Cecilia recoiled as if he had struck her.

“Cecilia,” Victor looked down on her, “you’re nobody. I don’t know what made you think this would last. Let me repeat—I’m done with you. Don’t make this dramatic. Just go. I bought you everything you wanted. You can keep it all,” he gestured at the suitcases. “And you can even brag about having had a fling with me. That’s more than someone like you deserves. Be grateful.”

Cecilia clenched her fists, grabbed the smallest suitcase, and hurled it at Victor’s face.
“Brag? Grateful for what? Keep your damn junk!”

Right now, she still didn’t fully understand what was happening, though she suspected Gerardo had brought her there with less-than-innocent intentions. But at this moment, Victor was her priority. She would deal with Gerardo later.

As if reading her mind, Gerardo spoke softly,
“Besides, if you go after Victor now, you can be sure you’ll lose Ismael.”

Those words pulled all of her focus back. Her eyes locked with Gerardo’s, who was still invading her personal space. A few inches closer and they’d be kissing again. But that no longer mattered, the only thing she could think of was what he’d just said. Lose Ismael.

“What did you just say?” her voice trembled.

Gerardo whispered, “What Victor did to you before was just for fun. What do you think he’ll do if you humiliate him now, in front of all these important people?”

Her heart pounded. “What… what are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No,” Cecilia’s breathing turned rapid.

“I know who Ismael’s father is,” Gerardo went on, his lips barely moving so no one else could catch his words. “And if you don’t want him to take him from you, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you.”

Cecilia wanted to run, but Gerardo wouldn’t let her. Instead, he gave her a slight tug, guiding her forward, toward Victor and Michelle.

“Just follow my lead,” he ordered.

Years ago, Victor had taken away her home and crushed her spirit just for fun, and never paid a price for it. A house was one thing… but her child? Was Gerardo suggesting Victor would take Ismael away if she embarrassed him now? Or was he threatening to do it himself if she didn’t obey? The thought made her dizzy.

The murmur of the crowd suddenly roared in her ears. The people surrounding Victor and Michelle, curious to see who had drawn their attention, now turned their gazes toward Gerardo and Cecilia. The tension in the room thickened. And when they reached them, the group around Victor and Michelle instinctively made way.

“Victor. Michelle,” Gerardo spoke first, and his tone was far from friendly. “Long time no see.”

“Gerardo,” Victor replied in the same guarded voice. Hearing it snapped Cecilia back into herself.

“Cecilia,” Gerardo said, turning toward her, “these are the acquaintances I told you about — Victor Villafuerte and Michelle Nieto.” He paused briefly. “Michelle, Victor—this is Cecilia.”

“Uriarte,” Victor finished for him.

Uriarte. The name sounded foreign coming from Victor’s mouth. He had never addressed her that way. From the first day they met to the day they parted, he had called her Cecilia… or Ceci, love, or spoiled girl.

“Yes, Uriarte,” Gerardo confirmed. “I didn’t know you knew Cecilia. Small world.”

“It’s not,” Michelle cut in with hostility, clutching Victor’s arm possessively. “Cecilia, I never imagined I’d see you in a place like this. In fact, I never thought I’d see you again.”

Cecilia forced herself to look at Michelle, though it felt mechanical.
“Neither did I,” she answered, only because Gerardo gave her a light squeeze.

Michelle was just as extravagant as Cecilia remembered. It was probably her idea to arrive fashionably late. She wore a black lace dress embroidered with golden flowers and glittering beads that showed off glimpses of her skin. Knowing Michelle, the threads were probably actual gold and the stones real diamonds. Her long black hair spilled down her back like a glossy waterfall, gleaming without a single ornament. The shine was natural, and her makeup emphasized her dark eyes. As always, Michelle dressed like the star of the show.

“So you both know her,” Gerardo said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just threatened Cecilia a moment before. “What a coincidence.”

“What do you want, Gerardo?” Victor asked bluntly, though his gaze couldn’t help straying back to Cecilia. He wasn’t going to pretend.

“Just to say hello,” Gerardo replied. “Even if we’re business rivals now, we were once colleagues. I thought it would be nice to catch up.”

“If that’s the case,” Michelle stepped in before Victor could speak, taking a step forward, “why don’t you tell us what you’ve been up to these years you vanished? Like, for example, how you met Cecilia.” She made no effort to hide her displeasure at seeing them together.

Gerardo took a moment before answering. “Well, at first, I was busy handling some hospital matters. As I’m sure you know, your parents — and some others,” he gave Victor a pointed look, “have made business complicated. But for the past year,” he slid his thumb along Cecilia’s back, sending a shiver down her spine, “I’ve been focused on something even more important and difficult than taking over the market.”

Up to this point, he’d been careful to introduce Cecilia to people as just a friend accompanying him. But now, his words were deliberately suggestive.

Michelle’s brow furrowed, her cheeks flushed with anger. “And what might that be?” she asked, her jealousy barely contained.

Gerardo replied calmly, “Convincing the possessive father of my future wife to accept me. Right, Cecilia?” And with that, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

My future wife. He said it with such confidence that, for a moment, Cecilia forgot about Ismael, because even though she knew it was a lie, for a split second, even she believed the implication. She tensed up and immediately looked at Victor, eager to see his reaction. But, as always, Villafuerte remained expressionless. He didn’t look away though.

What she did notice was the collective shock among the onlookers, even from those who weren’t part of the conversation. It was clear they all expected her to say something… but she was frozen.

“Your future wife?!” Michelle’s voice shot up, and she clenched her fists. “Don’t be ridiculous.”