VIAQUEZA ESTATE

Over Breakfast

VANESSA

As the silence stretched, Vanessa's thoughts drifted to the man who had haunted her mind all night. the IT expert who had gone AWOL the evening before. Marvin Reyes. The name, the face, the brilliant mind---she couldn't escape him.

Vanessa's gaze softened at the thought, but she quickly masked it, focusing once more on the present.

"Marvin Reyes," she murmured, almost to herself. "Your missing IT expert."

Vincent's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. The tension in his posture stiffened. He had known that name before, and the recognition was immediate.

"You know him," he said, his voice low, the question hanging between them. "Personally?"

Vanessa glanced at him, an almost imperceptible sadness flashing in her eyes. "Marvin was a childhood friend. A brilliant mind. Someone who dared to build something revolutionary, something that could change the game for small businesses. A data collecting technology designed to level the playing field. He had the potential to upend everything."

Vincent was silent, waiting for her to continue, his eyes sharp as she spoke.

"My father had taken it," she said softly. "Not because he needed it. Not because he cared about its purpose. But because he refused to let anyone else rise. He couldn't stand the thought of someone doing something greater, something that didn't revolve around him."

Her voice faltered for a moment, and Vincent noticed her eyes soften at the mention of Marvin. It was a fleeting expression, but it didn't escape his notice. His jaw tightened as he quietly observed her.

"I watched as Marvin lost everything overnight," she continued, her gaze distant. "His work stolen, his credibility crushed, his spirit broken. My father didn't just destroy competitors. He erased possibilities."

*******

VINCENT

Vincent's eyes locked onto hers, studying the way her emotions surfaced before quickly retreating behind her walls. He didn't like how her eyes softened when she spoke of Marvin. That wasn't part of the game she was supposed to play.

Still, there was something about her, something that made Vincent wonder whether this partnership would be as straightforward as he initially thought.

"Your father is a ruthless man, Vanessa," he said quietly. "I wonder where that leaves you."

Her gaze was steady, but there was something else behind it. Something he couldn't quite decipher yet.

"We're all products of our environment, Vincent," she replied. "But we're also capable of choosing which parts of it we carry forward."

Vincent didn't respond. He simply watched her, his mind turning over her words like a chess piece on a board.

Marvin Reyes had history with her. But what did that mean for him? For them?

*******

VINCENT

Vincent Viaqueza did not bleed.

At least, that's what the headlines implied.

He walked into RPV2 Tower as if the ambush the night before never happened.

No hesitation. No visible wounds. No indication that bullets had nearly clipped him in the dark.

Dressed in a sharp charcoal-gray suit, his presence commanded attention the moment he stepped into the marble-floored lobby. His employees and executives greeted him with the usual mixture of respect and wariness, their conversations quieting as he passed.

Vincent barely acknowledged them.

If they were waiting for him to show weakness, they'd be disappointed.

By the time he reached his private office on the top floor, his assistant, Lara, was already waiting with his morning espresso.

"Good afternnon, sir." She handed him the cup, her expression professional but subtly questioning. "Security reports have been filed from last night. The internal investigation is ongoing."

Vincent took a sip, unfazed. "Let me guess. No leads."

Lara hesitated. "Nothing concrete as of yet."

Of course not.

The men who came for him weren't amateurs. Hired hands of Alvaro Montemayor, but as to what end, he does not know yet.

Before he could dwell on it, the glass doors swung open without warning.

Voltaire Viaqueza strode in.

And he didn't look happy.

"You're playing house with Zaragoza's daughter?" Voltaire's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. The kind that warned Vincent he wasn't here for casual conversation.

Vincent smirked, unbothered. "Good afternoon to you too, kapatid."

Voltaire didn't return the pleasantries.

While Vincent was the strategist, Voltaire was the executor. If Vincent was the type to make a deal, Voltaire was the type to eliminate the competition entirely.

Dressed in his usual gray suit, his stance was all precision and efficiency, a man who treated everything--including this meeting--like a battlefield.

He folded his arms, assessing Vincent like a general evaluating a reckless soldier. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Vincent sighed, placing his cup down on the glass desk. "You'll have to be more specific, Terry. I think a lot of things."

Voltaire's jaw tightened. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Vincent leaned back against his chair, fingers tapping idly against the armrest.

"If you mean Vanessa," he said casually, "then yes, she's staying at the estate. Under my protection."

Voltaire's eyes narrowed.

"Protection?" he echoed. "From what? The father you're planning to destroy?"

Vincent tilted his head. "Among other things."

Voltaire didn't sit. He never did when he was irritated. Instead, he paced toward the massive windows overlooking the Manila skyline.

"She's a liability."

Vincent exhaled through his nose, amused. "She's an asset."

"She's Zaragoza's blood."

"She's also Zaragoza's biggest weakness."

That made Voltaire to pause.

Vincent saw the flicker of reluctant consideration in his brother's stance.

"She's not some pawn, Voltaire." Vincent's voice was smooth but firm. "She's smart. Calculated. She knows how her father operates. His allies, his deals, his skeletons."

Voltaire didn't answer immediately. He was thinking. Weighing the risks.

Finally, he turned to face Vincent fully. "So, what's your endgame?"

Vincent smiled, slow and sharp. "Leverage."

Voltaire exhaled, rubbing his temple briefly before pinning his brother with a hard stare.

"Just don't get distracted."

Vincent's smirk didn't falter. "Come now, brother. Since when I let distractions win?"

Voltaire didn't reply. He just gave Vincent one last look before turning on his heel and walking out.

Vincent picked up his espresso again, taking a slow sip.

His brother wasn't convinced. Not yet.

But he would be.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the skyline, but his mind wasn't on the city below. It was on the warning Voltaire had just given him.

Vincent exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to rub the tension from his temples. It wasn't about playing house. It was about control. Strategy. Knowing when to strike.

And yet, Voltaire's concern was valid.

Don Jayme was moving his pieces. That much was clear. The attack last night wasn't a message; it was an opening move. A calculated strike that had nothing to do with brute force and everything to do with positioning.

Vincent had no doubts that the true target was his IT expert, Marvin. That was Don Jayme's style, eliminate the backbone, cut the supply lines, cripple the enemy before the real war even begins.

But what he couldn't quite place yet... was Vanessa.

She was intelligent, perceptive, and undoubtedly dangerous in her own right. But was she part of her father's move? Or was she simply another pawn, unknowingly placed in the middle of the board?

Voltaire believed she was a liability.

Vincent wasn't convinced.

Vanessa had given him the microchip, trusted him enough to run with it instead of using it herself. That meant something.

But trust was a currency that Vincent rarely dealt in.

And that gnawed at him.

With a sigh, he turned to his desk, fingers tapping against the polished glass. The decrypted data would tell him soon enough if Vanessa was truly on his side, or if she had already made her choice before ever stepping into his estate.

For now, he'd wait.

Because in any game, the most dangerous move was always the one you didn't see coming.

*******

VIAQUEZA ESTATE

VANESSA

Vanessa didn't expect the message.

She had spent the night turning the ambush over in her mind, analyzing every possibility, every hidden hand that could be playing this game. But when her phone vibrated with an encrypted text at dawn, the sender made her blood run cold.

Franchesca Zaragoza.

Her older sister. The golden heir. The one who had always played the perfect daughter while Vanessa rebelled.

Vanessa hesitated before opening it.

I'm glad you're still alive. Come home while you still can.

She swallowed hard. A warning. A veiled threat. Or both?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to ignore it. She should ignore it.

But before she could decide, another message came in.

You think you're different from Father? You think Vincent is? He's playing you, bunso. You're just a card on his deck.

Vanessa's grip tightened on the phone.

Of course, Franchesca would say that. Of course, she would try to pull her back into the fold. To make her doubt, to remind her that Zaragoza blood was inescapable.

She typed her response carefully.

If you cared so much, you would have warned me sooner.

The reply was instant.

I'm warning you now. There are too many people involved in this. You will get hurt.

And then, one last message.

You cannot fight who you are, Vanessa. You are a Zaragoza, be sure to remember that.

Vanessa exhaled, locking her phone.

She wasn't sure of anything anymore.

*******