⚠️ Viewer Discretion Advised⚠️
This episode contains mature themes including psychological tension, implied violence, and emotionally complex power dynamics. Some scenes may be unsettling or disturbing to sensitive viewers.
Viewer discretion is strongly advised.

VIAQUEZA ESTATE

VANESSA

That morning, Vanessa had planned to go on a run around the estate, desperate to clear her mind. The house was beginning to feel too small, suffocating with unanswered questions and lingering glances from a man she still didn't fully understand.

She had just stepped onto the stone path when she caught sight of him.

Vincent.

In the pool.

She hadn't even realized the estate had an Olympic-sized swimming pool. It was tucked away behind a line of palm trees, its water gleaming under the soft morning sun. And there, cutting through the water with effortless precision, was Vincent.

Vanessa stilled.

She had seen him in suits, in crisp button-downs, always perfectly composed. But here, in the quiet solitude of morning, stripped of his armor, he was different.

The tattoos were the first thing she noticed.

Intricate, symmetrical black ink covered the expanse of his torso, curving over his chest and shoulders in a deliberate pattern. But it wasn't just random body art.

She recognized the design.

Bagani Sangre.

The Mindanao-based syndicate that controlled underground gambling, arms dealing, and smuggling routes across the southern islands. Ruthless. Efficient. Practically untouchable.

Vanessa felt her pulse quicken.

She had always known Vincent was dangerous, but this? This was another level. The Viaqueza name was feared in Manila, but Bagani Sangre? That was old blood, warrior blood. They operated under their own code, separate from the city's crime lords. To bear their mark meant you weren't just associated with them. 

You were one of them.

She had never heard of the Viaquezas having ties to Mindanao's underworld, but it made sense. How else had Vincent expanded his influence so quickly in the guise of a logistics company?

Vincent surfaced, shaking the water from his hair before pushing it back, completely unaware.

Or maybe just unconcerned, that she was watching.

Vanessa exhaled slowly.

The sight of him, the power in his movements. The ease in which he carried himself, the inked history written across his skin, was a stark reminder.

She had almost forgotten.

Vincent Viaqueza wasn't just a businessman. He wasn't just a rival to her father.

He was a predator.

And she?

She had willingly stepped into his territory.

She was about to turn away, to retreat before he noticed her, but it was too late.

Vincent lifted his gaze, locking onto hers instantly.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

His dark eyes---always so guarded, always so unreadable---held something different now. Something knowing.

Vanessa forced herself to stay composed. If he noticed her staring, he didn't call her out on it. Instead, he gave her that signature smirk, the one that felt more like a challenge than a greeting.

"Enjoying the view, Princesa?" His voice was lazy, but his gaze was sharp.

Vanessa smirked back, folding her arms. "I didn't realize you were the type to indulge in morning swims."

He swam toward the edge of the pool, resting his arms on the ledge as he tilted his head slightly. "Discipline isn't indulgence."

Of course he'd say that.

Her eyes flicked briefly to the tattoos again, but she masked her thoughts with a casual shrug. "And here I thought you never let your guard down."

Vincent chuckled, low and smooth. "Who says I have?"

There it was again, that feeling. Like every word out of his mouth was a carefully laid trap, waiting to see if she'd step into it.

Vanessa shifted her weight, unwilling to let him have the upper hand. "Bagani Sangre," she said, watching him closely. "That's an interesting affiliation."

Most men would have tensed. Most men would have tried to deflect, to deny.

Vincent just smiled.

"You've been doing your research," he mused. "I'm flattered."

"I like knowing who I'm dealing with."

His smile didn't fade, but something in his expression darkened, just for a second. "And? Have you figured me out yet?"

Vanessa hesitated.

No.

Not even close.

And that was what terrified her.

She lifted her chin. "I'm still working on it."

Vincent studied her, then let out a hum of amusement. "Good."

And with that, he pushed away from the ledge, disappearing into the water again.

Vanessa stood there for a moment longer before finally turning away.

As she walked back toward the estate, her heart was still pounding.

Not from fear.

But from the undeniable realization that Vincent Viaqueza was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.

And worse?

She wasn't sure she wanted to walk away.

*******

The sun had long begun its descent, casting the Viaqueza estate in hues of deep amber and dusky violet. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the lingering warmth of the day, but despite the beauty of her surroundings, Vanessa Zaragoza felt uneasy.

It had been days since her morning encounter with Vincent at the pool, yet the image of his tattooed torso and knowing smirk still lingered in her mind.

She had spent the last few nights trying to make sense of him, trying to determine if the man who had taken her in was truly her captor, her protector, or something far more sinister.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

Vanessa was in her room, fastening the delicate clasp of a diamond earring, when something outside the window caught her attention.

Vincent.

But not the Vincent she was used to seeing.

Not the smooth, controlled man who moved through life with effortless precision.

This was something else entirely.

He emerged from what looked like a shed at the far end of the estate, his posture rigid, his movements deliberate. In the dim evening light, Vanessa could see the sharp angles of his face, the way his jaw was locked, the way his shoulders seemed heavier than before.

But it wasn't his expression that sent a shiver down her spine.

It was the way he wiped the blood off his hands with a piece of cloth before tossing it to one of his men.

He did it so casually. Methodically.

Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Vanessa's breath hitched.

Her fingers clenched the edge of the dresser as she watched him roll his sleeves back down, concealing the evidence of whatever had just transpired behind a mask of perfection.

His crisp white dress shirt was untucked, slightly wrinkled, but otherwise unstained.

His suit jacket was draped over one arm, his movements so composed it was almost chilling.

Then, as if he hadn't just walked out of a bloodstained scene, Vincent strode toward the house.

Toward her.

Vanessa took an instinctive step back, her heartbeat hammering in her chest.

She didn't know what she had just witnessed.

Didn't want to know.

But she had seen enough to understand one thing.

Vincent Viaqueza wasn't just a dangerous man.

He was a man who did dangerous things...and did them without hesitation.

And now?

Now, he was coming for her.

And Vanessa...

She wasn't sure if she was more afraid of what she had seen.

Or of how much she wanted to understand him.

She barely had time to compose herself before a knock echoed against her door.

Sharp. Unhurried. Controlled.

Then, without waiting for permission, it swung open.

Vincent.

He stood in the doorway, broad shoulders cutting through the dim glow of her bedside lamp, his expression unreadable.

But Vanessa knew.

Only minutes ago, he had been wiping away blood. Now, not a trace remained.

Yet she knew.

He had cleaned up quickly. Too quickly.

How many times has he done this?

How many bodies had been erased before the blood even had a chance to dry?

She forced herself to breathe. To keep her voice even.

"You're late for dinner."

Vincent's lips curled at the edges, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. "Had some business to handle."

Business.

Vanessa swallowed. "Is it taken care of?"

Something flickered in his gaze.

Amusement. Curiosity. Maybe even warning.

"Yes," he said simply.

She didn't ask anything more.

And Vincent? He didn't offer any answers.

Instead, he stepped forward. Slow, deliberate, closing the space between them. Close enough that she could catch the scent of him.

Clean. Sharp. But beneath that? Something metallic.

Vanessa's breath stilled.

Vincent reached out, his fingers brushing against her wrist, his touch deliberate. "I apologize if I have not been much of a host, as of late."

Vanessa met his gaze, searching for something, some trace of the blood she had seen. Some crack in the perfect veneer. But there was nothing.

Vincent Viaqueza stood before her, as composed as ever.

The only proof of what he had done was the fact that she had seen it.

"I noticed," she said coolly. "Busy, right?"

His lips twitched at the edge. "You could say that."

He exhaled, stepping slightly away from her, into the room.

"I'm not avoiding you, Vanessa."

Her eyes flickered to him, wary. "I never said you were."

"But you thought it."

She didn't deny it.

Vincent took another step closer, stopping just at the edge of her bed.

The dim light cast deep shadows across his face, carving sharp lines into his features. It suited him. The darkness.

It clung to him like a second skin.

He was watching her, not just looking but watching.

Like he was peeling her apart, piece by piece.

And she knew.

He was waiting.

Waiting to see if she would admit it.

That she had seen.

That she knew.

Vanessa inhaled sharply, choosing her words carefully.

"You were handling business."

Vincent didn't respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing.

He was assessing her, unraveling her.

Testing her.

"What is it that you think you saw, Vanessa?"

His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

A challenge.

A test.

Vanessa could not move away from his gaze, no matter how much she wanted to.

She had spent her whole life surrounded by men like him. Powerful. Calculated. Dangerous.

But Vincent Viaqueza was something else entirely.

He was a man who could hold your gaze, make you forget how to breathe, and leave you unsure whether you wanted to escape... or step closer.

Vanessa exhaled, the words leaving her lips before she could stop them.

"I saw you wiping blood off your hands like it was nothing."

The air in the room shifted.

Vincent's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes, they sharpened.

Dangerous.

Unforgiving.

His voice was a low murmur. "And why does that bother you?"

Vanessa stiffened. "Shouldn't it?"

He stepped closer. Too close.

"That depends."

Her pulse hammered. "On what?"

His gaze darkened. "On whether you're afraid of me."

Vanessa swallowed, forcing herself to hold his stare. "Should I be?"

Vincent smiled. Slow. Calculated.

Like he knew something she didn't.

Then, just as she thought he would leave, he did something unexpected.

"Come," he said smoothly. "Join me for a nightcap."

*******