VIAQUEZA ESTATE

The morning sun bathed the Viaqueza estate in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the sprawling gardens. The scent of barako coffee and warm pandesal filled the breakfast room, mingling with the faint rustle of the breeze through capiz windows. The air was cool, but the atmosphere inside remained stiff with formality.

Vincent Viaqueza wasn't a morning person, and his scowl deepened as he stepped into the breakfast room, still half-lost in sleep and suspicion. He stopped short when he saw Vanessa Zaragoza already seated, her calm, unreadable expression framed by the early light. What made him truly pause, though, was the sight of his yaya across from her, posture upright and hands neatly folded on her lap.

Yaya Belen---stoic, guarded, and typically suspicious of any outsider, especially women who walked too confidently into the estate.

She barely looked at Vincent as he entered, her eyes still fixed on Vanessa with the same polite distance she reserved for visiting politicians and distant cousins she didn't trust.

"Good morning, hijo," she said curtly, with none of her usual fussing or commentary. Her tone was neutral. Too neutral.

Vanessa offered a courteous smile. "Good morning, Yaya. Vincent."

"Ma'am Vanessa," Yaya Belen replied, her voice clipped, almost too formal for a breakfast table. "You slept well, I trust?"

"I did. Thank you for asking," Vanessa said, unruffled.

Vincent moved toward the table slowly, eyes darting between the two women. He had expected cold politeness, yes, but not this quiet tension. Not this stilted exchange. Yaya Belen was never exactly warm to anyone, but even he could tell she was sizing Vanessa up like she might turn into a threat.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, still watching them. The Vanessa from last night had been wary, guarded. But this morning, she was calm. Settled. As if nothing about the Viaqueza estate, or its gatekeeping yaya, unnerved her in the slightest.

She was already making herself at home in his world, and it irritated him more than he cared to admit.

He sat down slowly. "You seem to have settled in rather quickly."

Vanessa met his gaze over her cup. "One must learn to adapt."

He leaned back slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Some adapt better than others."

She didn't flinch. Instead, she set her cup down, her fingers tracing the rim thoughtfully...deliberately.

"I suppose it depends on how welcome one feels," she said lightly, though there was a steeliness under her words.

Yaya Belen stood abruptly, collecting a small basket of warm pandesal with far more force than necessary. "I'll get more coffee."

And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen, her absence leaving a strange silence in her wake.

Only when she was gone did Vincent turn fully to Vanessa, eyes narrowing slightly. "Interesting."

Vanessa tilted her head. "What is?"

"You're the first woman I've ever brought here who hasn't been interrogated before the coffee finished brewing."

Vanessa's lips curled into something close to amusement. "Then I must be doing something right."

Vincent laughed softly. A dry, intrigued sound. He picked up a piece of pandesal, spread it with coconut jam, and took his time chewing. He hadn't expected this. Not Yaya Belen's restraint. Not Vanessa's ease.

He was watching a chess game unfold---and for once, he wasn't sure who was playing white.

The clink of china and the low hum of cicadas filled the silence left by Yaya Belen's departure. Vincent studied Vanessa, her eyes calm, unreadable, her movements deliberate. She was never in a rush. That unsettled him more than any accusation or flirtation could.

When Yaya returned, she moved with practiced grace, placing a fresh pot of coffee on the table with barely a glance at Vincent. But then, just as she turned to leave again, she hesitated, then turned back to Vanessa.

"Hija," she said, her voice a touch softer now, though still edged with formality. "After breakfast, if you like, I can show you the estate. We still have the orchards, and the greenhouse by the old stables. If you're the curious type."

Vincent's spoon paused halfway to his mouth.

Vanessa blinked, a polite smile forming. "That would be lovely, Yaya. Thank you."

Yaya Belen nodded once. "Very good. I'll meet you in the foyer in an hour. Wear something comfortable. It's not just for show, we still work the land."

She swept away again, but not before giving Vincent a brief glance that said nothing, and everything.

He stared after her, dumbfounded. "What in hell just happened?"

Vanessa raised an eyebrow over her coffee. "I believe I've passed inspection."

Vincent let out a low whistle. "That was more than passing. She hasn't offered anyone a tour since... since ever."

Vanessa smirked, savoring her last sip of coffee. "Maybe she's just curious."

"She's never curious. She's suspicious. And she likes it that way."

Vanessa stood, brushing invisible crumbs from her linen slacks. "Then I must be a mystery."

He watched her go, the soft click of her heels echoing through the hallway, leaving him to stew in the awkward, slow-burning realization: Yaya likes her. What the hell.

*******

By lunchtime, Vincent was pacing the veranda, still unsettled. He told himself it was because of work. The estate. Logistics. Anything but that woman who had managed to charm the most immovable person in his life before midday.

The sound of laughter drifted from the hallway, and then they appeared.

Vanessa and Yaya Belen.

Yaya was chuckling. Chuckling.

"And then he cried for three days when the goat disappeared! He swore it was kidnapped by syndicates."

Vanessa was laughing openly now, her hand over her chest. "A goat-napping conspiracy? That's incredible."

Vincent stepped forward; his arms crossed. "You're telling her the goat story now?"

Yaya waved him off. "Oh, hijo, she should know what kind of boy you were before she starts thinking you're too impressive."

Vanessa arched a brow. "Oh, I never make assumptions."

Yaya gave her an approving nod. "Smart girl."

They reached the long dining table laid out beneath the trellised vines. As they sat, Yaya began fussing over the serving dishes.

"Vanessa, sit beside Vincent. He eats like a beast when no one's watching. You'll keep him in check."

Vincent nearly choked on his water. "Yaya---"

"Hush, hijo." She turned to Vanessa with a wink. "If he gives you trouble, tell me. I still keep the slipper."

Vanessa's eyes danced with amusement. "I'll keep that in mind."

Yaya sat at the head of the table, slicing roasted chicken with the precision of a surgeon. "You know, it's nice to have a woman here who doesn't flinch at dirt. The orchids loved her. And the dogs didn't bark once."

Vincent gaped. "The dogs bark at everyone."

Yaya shrugged. "Not her."

He looked at Vanessa, who only gave him a sly smile, as if she'd known all along this would happen.

"You've cast some kind of spell," he muttered.

Vanessa leaned in, her voice low but steady. "I don't need to. Your home's already full of ghosts. I just made friends with one of the living."

Vincent said nothing after that. Not because he didn't have a retort, but because for the first time in a long while, he felt the ground shifting beneath his feet.

And Vanessa Zaragoza, with her calm eyes and measured words, was at the center of it.

*******

The moment stretched between them before Vanessa leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "So, where do you need me?"

Vincent regarded her with a measured calm, taking another sip of his coffee. "For now, you stay here."

Vanessa's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Vincent sighed, as though he had expected this response. "Patience, Ms. Zaragoza. My team is still working on decrypting the data from the microchip you gave me. Whatever's inside, it's more than just business acquisitions and telecom moves."

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "And you expect me to sit here while you piece it together?"

"Yes," he replied, his tone unwavering.

Her arms folded across her chest. "I'm not a delicate thing to be protected, Ginoo. I need to be useful."

Vincent chuckled, his voice low and amused. "Oh, you'll be useful, Prinsesa. Just not in the way you think."

Her curiosity piqued, Vanessa leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

He leaned back slightly, a hint of intrigue in his eyes as he steepled his fingers. "The ambush last night wasn't just a random attack. Someone wanted to send a message. Whether to you, to me, or both, we don't know yet. Until we control the fallout, every move you make in public will be scrutinized."

Vanessa exhaled sharply, irritated but not surprised. "The media."

Vincent nodded. "Exactly. And that's where you come in."

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"My head PR strategist, Rachelyn Villamor, will be reaching out to you later today. She'll brief you on our media approach. Right now, the press is having a field day with speculation. We need to get ahead of it."

Vanessa scoffed, a bitter smile forming on her lips. "Let me guess. The damsel-in-distress storyline?"

Vincent smirked. "That, or the scandalous prize you became in a high-stakes poker game. Either way, we need to control the narrative."

Vanessa considered this for a moment, her fingers drumming lightly on the tabletop. "And what exactly is your angle?"

Vincent's expression remained unreadable. "You'll find out soon enough. Rachelyn will walk you through it."

Vanessa's gaze hardened slightly. "So, I'm to be handled?"

Vincent chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, Prinsesa. You're to be prepared."

Their eyes locked, something unspoken passing between them. A tension neither could deny. Vanessa might not be content with her role in the media game, but she knew better than to refuse the only card left to play.

"Fine," she said lightly, her gaze shifting toward the door. "Let's see what your Rachelyn Villamor has to say."

Vincent's smirk didn't fade, but something in his eyes flickered, an acknowledgment that the game was only beginning.

*******