RPV Tower, IT War Room

VANESSA

For a moment, the only sound in the War Room was the soft hum of the city below, the weight of the cyberattack pressing down like a storm cloud.

Vanessa kept her expression unreadable, but inside, she was unraveling.

Someone was mimicking her work.

Not just any hacker. Not just any breach. This was her signature.

Her old alias. Angel of Darkness.

The words on the screen---Even empires bleed---felt like a haunting echo of her past.

Vincent, leaning back in his chair, exhaled slowly. "Well." He tapped his fingers against the desk, eyes flicking toward Vanessa. "That's dramatic."

She swallowed hard, schooling her features into neutrality. "Whoever it is wants to send a message."

Vincent's gaze sharpened. "And what do you think that message is?"

She hesitated. Too long.

Vincent didn't miss it. His smirk was slow, but there was something dangerous behind it now. "You know something."

Vanessa forced a casual shrug. "I know what any decent hacker would know. It's a taunt."

Lie.

Vincent tilted his head slightly, studying her.

She wasn't sure if he believed her.

Then, suddenly, his attention shifted. "Marcus."

The IT expert straightened. "Sir?"

"Tell the cybersecurity team to start tracking. I want a location---even if it's just a breadcrumb."

Marcus nodded but hesitated. "A counterattack could escalate this."

Vincent's smile didn't waver. "Good."

Vanessa's stomach twisted. This was exactly what they wanted.

If Vincent retaliated, it would only deepen the war.

"Are you sure?" Marcus pressed.

Vincent glanced back at Vanessa. "What do you think, Prinsesa?"

Her pulse thrummed. She could feel his scrutiny, the way he was waiting for her reaction.

And in that moment, she realized something terrifying.

Vincent was testing her.

This wasn't just about cyberwarfare anymore.

This was about trust.

Slowly, she exhaled. "You should wait."

Vincent arched a brow. "Wait?"

Vanessa met his gaze. "A real hacker wouldn't get caught so easily. Whoever did this want you to strike back immediately. You don't. You wait, you watch, you find out what they really want."

For the first time since the attack was announced, Vincent looked... interested.

His smirk returned, slow and knowing. "You think like a criminal, Prinsesa."

She smiled sweetly. "I think like a survivor."

His eyes flickered with something. Amusement, intrigue... something more.

Then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he said, "Fine. Let's wait."

Marcus looked relieved, nodding before taking the rest of his IT team and stepping out to manage the damage control in the affected servers.

As soon as the doors closed, Vincent leaned forward slightly, fingers steepling.

"Tell me, Vanessa," he mused, "what exactly do you know about hacking?"

Her breath caught for half a second.

Vincent didn't look away.

And suddenly, Vanessa realized something worse than the cyberattack itself.

Vincent was starting to suspect her.

Vanessa felt the weight of Vincent's gaze pressing down on her, his dark eyes filled with calculation. The air in the office was thick with unspoken tension. If she answered too quickly, he'd know she was hiding something. If she hesitated, he'd dig even deeper.

So, she did what she did best. She played the game.

She let out a soft chuckle, feigning nonchalance. "Vincent, do you really think I grew up in my father's world without picking up a few skills?" She leaned against his desk, tilting her head slightly. "I know enough to know when someone is trying too hard."

Vincent smirked. "Trying too hard?"

"To get under my skin."

She could see the flicker of amusement in his expression, but he didn't let up. "Come on, Prinsesa. That was a careful deflection. You know more than you're letting on."

Vanessa took a deep breath and made a choice. She couldn't keep dodging forever.

"I have a degree in Computer Hardware and Software Engineering," she admitted, keeping her tone light, as if it were just another trivial fact. "And hacking, if you want to be technical about it."

That got his full attention. His smirk faded slightly, replaced with something more thoughtful.

"Hacking." He repeated the word like he was tasting it. "That's a rather... specialized skill for a crime lord's daughter."

Vanessa shrugged, sipping her coffee like they were discussing the weather. "My father never thought much of it. He wanted me to learn business, politics. I learned that, too. But coding? Breaking systems? That was something I could control. Something that was mine."

Vincent watched her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. "You don't strike me as the type who enjoys following the rules."

She laughed, and for the first time in a long time, it was real. "That's probably the first honest thing you've said to me."

Vincent's smirk returned, slow and knowing. "So, tell me, Prinsesa. Should I be worried that you could take down my entire empire with a few keystrokes?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "That depends. Should I be worried that you already thought about using me to do exactly that?"

Both fell into silence.

For the first time since they had met, they weren't just testing each other. They were acknowledging the reality of what they were. Two dangerous people playing an even more dangerous game.

Vincent chuckled, low and smooth. "You're something else, Vanessa Zaragoza."

She smirked. "You have no idea."

Vincent’s eyes glittered, unreadable beneath the stark overhead lights of the war room. He was quiet for a beat too long, and Vanessa felt her breath catch.

Then, finally, he asked, “Oh, by the way, how’s your research on me going?”

She blinked.

“What?”

He turned slightly in his chair, his profile cast in silver and shadow. “You’ve been digging, haven’t you? Trying to crack into my estate’s servers. My personal files. My devices.”

Vanessa stiffened. Her training told her not to react. But her stomach still dropped.

Vincent didn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounded amused. Impressed, even.

“You’re remarkably quiet when you’re up to something,” he continued, tapping a finger against the armrest. “But I have counter-intel for breakfast. You think I wouldn’t notice someone sniffing around my perimeter?”

She straightened, lifting her chin. “I was curious.”

His eyes flicked to her. “Curious?”

“I wanted to understand how you run your empire,” she said coolly. “How someone like you inspires so much loyalty. Fear. Obedience.”

He chuckled, dark and low. “And you thought you’d find that in server logs and encrypted chat threads?”

Vanessa gave a faint smile. “I thought I might. But your digital presence is cleaner than the Vatican’s banking records.”

“Of course it is,” he murmured, then leaned forward, elbows resting on the table between them. “If you really want to know about me, Vanessa… you could just ask.”

She tilted her head, arching a brow. “Would you tell me?”

His eyes sparked. “Ask me to dinner first. Then I’ll tell you my story.”

The room went quiet.

Her breath caught.

She hadn’t expected that.

Not the flirtation.

Not the sudden disarmament of it all.

It was easier when he was just the cold, untouchable ghost of a man everyone feared. But this...this warm, wickedly amused version of him was dangerous in a different way.

Before she could answer, Vincent’s voice dropped, almost conspiratorial. “Let me guess. You tried to hack into the Hacienda’s mainframe, couldn’t find anything, so you pivoted to me. My phone. My tablet.”

“And came up empty,” she admitted, folding her arms.

He smiled. “That’s because what you’re looking for doesn’t live there.”

She frowned. “Then where?”

Vincent rose from his seat, slow and effortless.

“Vanessa, if I had ties to something like the Bagani Sangre,” he said, voice a murmur just for her, “do you really think I’d keep records of it somewhere that predictable? Some truths don’t live in code or vaults. They live in decisions. In debts. In the people who owe you favors they can’t pay back.”

He was close now. Too close.

She looked up at him, steady. “So, you are tied to them.”

A long pause.

Then, finally, his answer came, quiet and laced with weight: “I’m tied to a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I belong to any of them.”

Vanessa exhaled slowly.

It was the most honest thing he’d said to her.

And maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something neither of them could fully predict.

And just like that, the moment was over.

It was Vincent who ended the conversation first, standing up and stretching as if the last few minutes hadn't shifted the entire balance of trust between them. "We should go home."

Vanessa arched a brow. "Never thought I'd see a day when I hear Vincent Viaqueza and 'home' in one sentence."

He smirked but didn't reply, already heading for the door.

Vanessa stayed still for a moment, exhaling slowly.

She had just revealed a part of herself she had never admitted so easily before. And she had done it in front of Vincent Viaqueza.

She wasn't sure whether that was a mistake or the most dangerous move she had ever made.

******

Vincent was never a man to sit idle.

By the time Vanessa stepped into the war room that morning for a meeting she was invited to, he was already in motion.

His team had been working overnight. Surveillance footage analyzed, firewall logs cross-checked, threat assessments drawn up. And yet, nothing. No fingerprints. No breadcrumbs. No proof of who had launched the attack.

Vincent sat at his desk, watching the data scroll across his screen, expression unreadable. Then, without looking away, he spoke.

"Who do you think it is, Prinsesa?"

Vanessa, who had been pouring herself a cup of coffee, hesitated for only a fraction of a second.

Too long.

Vincent glanced at her.

She met his gaze, masking her nerves. "Your prime suspect is my father. Why are you asking me?"

Vincent leaned back, tapping a pen against the glass desk. "Because it doesn't feel like Don Jayme."

Vanessa swallowed. "Why not?"

He studied her, his silence heavier than words. "Whoever did this wanted to be noticed. Don Jayme doesn't play that way. If he wanted to send a message, he'd do it with something real. Something violent."

A flicker of unease ran through her.

He wasn't wrong.

Her father was a man who crushed enemies, not taunted them. And this, this felt personal.

Vincent tilted his head slightly, eyes locked onto hers. "You haven't told me everything."

Vanessa forced a smirk. "And since when do you expect full honesty?"

His lips curled slightly. "I don't."

But the way he was watching her. The weight of his scrutiny, told her he wasn't letting this go.

She needed to figure out who was behind the attack before he did. Because if Vincent ever found out the truth that someone was using her old alias to send a message.

She wasn't sure if he would see her as a liability.

Or as the enemy.

*******

VIAQUEZA ESTATE

VANESSA

Vanessa was pacing her room, agitation thrumming through her veins.

For the past week, Vincent had been watching her. Testing her.

Every move she made in the war room was met with silent evaluation, every suggestion she offered dissected like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

And yet, he wouldn't let her in.

Every time she reached for more control, he steered the conversation elsewhere. Every time she pushed for access, he withheld information. It was as if he was dangling power just out of her reach, waiting for her to prove something she didn't even understand.

She wasn't a fool. She knew he didn't fully trust her yet.

But that wasn't the part that stung.

The part that infuriated her was that he saw her. He knew what she was capable of.

And yet, he still held her at arm's length.

Her fingers clenched around her phone. If he thought she would sit around and wait for him to deem her worthy, he was mistaken.

Her phone vibrated.

VINCENT: Balcony. Now.

Vanessa exhaled sharply, tossing her phone onto the table. “Summoning me now, are we?” she muttered under her breath. Still, she checked herself on the mirror, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she made her way out.

The balcony air was thick with the scent of impending rain: warm, electric, alive. Vincent stood by the railing, silhouetted against the bruised skyline, a glass of whiskey in hand. He didn’t look back when she stepped out, but she saw the slight shift in his shoulders. He knew she was there.

Vanessa’s arms crossed automatically; her jaw tight. “You bark orders now?”

No answer.

Just the hush of the wind and the occasional honk from the streets below.

She stepped closer, her voice dropping. “I came here because I thought you were different.” Her words cut through the silence, sharp and unexpected. “Because I thought---”
She stopped. Too late.

Vincent turned slowly. The usual smirk was gone, replaced by something quieter, unreadable. But his eyes. those sharp, dark eyes caught the sadness before she could mask it.

“Thought what?” he asked, voice low.

She shook her head. “Forget it.”

But he moved before she could retreat. Just one step. Just enough. Close enough that she could smell the whiskey and citrus on his breath, and something else that was unmistakably him.

His voice softened. “What did you think, Prinsesa?”

Her throat tightened.

That he wasn’t like her father. That, despite the control and cruelty the world said he wielded, he’d looked at her like an equal. Not a pawn.
That maybe, just maybe, someone like him could understand someone like her.

“I thought you saw me,” she said finally, eyes not leaving his.

A beat passed.

Then without a word,he reached behind him to the ledge and held something out.

Her eyes dropped.

A glass.

Cuba Libre.

Her favorite. Lime wedge perfect. Ice just starting to melt.

******