The morning sun poured through the towering glass walls of Salvatierra & Co.’s headquarters atrium, casting a sharp glow over the pristine marble floors. Behind the scenes, in the makeup room, Victoria sat still as the team worked on her hair and face. Her nerves hummed beneath her calm exterior, her hand turning cold despite her effort to hide it. Every brushstroke, every pat of powder reminded her that today, she was on display—not just as a daughter, but as a piece in a much larger game.

Fidel stepped into the room, his gaze scanning Victoria with a mixture of satisfaction and calculated approval. His smile was sharp, controlled.

“Do well today,” he said, voice even but carrying the weight of expectation.

Victoria returned the smile, tight but genuine.

“Yes, Dad.”

Before anything more could be said, a knock came at the door. Emilio, Fidel’s ever-efficient EA, entered briskly.

“Sir, Mr. Nathaniel requests some changes to the contract.”

Fidel’s eyes narrowed, the faintest crease forming between his brows. He gave a slow nod.

“Very well. I will go speak with him now.”

In another room, the atmosphere was quieter but no less tense. Nathaniel leaned back slightly in his chair, speaking quietly with his father, Elias, while his corporate lawyer, flipped through the draft of the contract. His EA Clara hovered nearby, ready to act.

When Fidel entered, he radiated calm authority. His pleasantries to Elias were warm, almost disarming, but every word was measured. Elias smiled politely, recognizing the power dance at play.

Fidel’s gaze then shifted to Nathaniel, sharp and probing.

“Good morning, Nathaniel. Tell me—what is it you want changed in the contract?”

Nathaniel’s expression remained composed, though his mind worked quickly, evaluating every word, every possible angle. He handed the amended contract to Fidel, each change carefully annotated in his precise handwriting.

“All the current terms favor only one side,” Nathaniel said evenly. “I cannot allow the arrangement to leave my family and company exposed. I need protection too—our reputation, our interests. This, sir, is fairness.”

Fidel skimmed the contract, his eyes lingering on the margin notes, the additional clauses. His lips curved slightly when he saw the new addition.

“You added a duration—one year,” he observed, voice neutral but carrying a subtle edge.

“Of course,” Nathaniel replied, unflinching. “I want to be certain you honor your promise. A definite timeline—one year—until marriage.” His gaze met Fidel’s directly, unwavering, measured.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Fidel’s expression softened into a rare, almost approving smile.

“Very well,” he said, the weight of his voice signaling a decision made. “We will amend the contract to reflect this clause.”

Nathaniel allowed himself a small, controlled smirk—victory measured, quiet, satisfying. The game was far from over, but for now, he had leveled the board.

The press conference hall buzzed with anticipation, a sea of cameras and murmurs filling the air. The PR host from Salvatierra & Co. stepped onto the stage, her voice smooth as she welcomed the media, investors, and the carefully curated VIP guests. The spotlight shifted, and all eyes turned toward the long table draped in velvet, contracts laid neatly across its polished surface.

Fidel entered first, his presence commanding, followed by Elias. The weight of legacy walked with them. Then came Victoria—paired beside Nathaniel.

The moment her heels clicked against the marble floor, a cold wave washed over her. A knot tightened in her stomach, breath faltering as dizziness threatened to sway her balance. Her palms grew clammy. Each step toward the center felt heavier than the last, and just when her legs wobbled, instinct overruled pride—her hand reached for Nathaniel’s arm.

He stilled in surprise. Victoria’s grip was firm, almost desperate, but her expression remained composed, her posture elegant as ever. Something was wrong. Without thinking, his voice lowered to her ear.

“Are you alright?”

She kept her gaze fixed ahead, her posture still pristine, and whispered back, “I’m fine.” Yet her grip tightened, pressing herself closer to his side as though anchoring herself to him.

Nathaniel’s stride remained composed, but the instant her hand tightened around his arm, the familiar warmth of her pressed body against his stirred something he thought he had long buried. Memories of a past once cherished—and painfully lost—rippled through him, catching him off guard despite the years that had passed.

Together, they cut a striking picture. Victoria in a crisp white buttoned blazer dress, her white stilettos clicking against the floor, her wrist adorned with a slim timepiece, hazelnut-brown hair sleek and straight, framing her face with quiet elegance. Beside her, Nathaniel formed the perfect contrast—charcoal-gray suit, black dress shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar, a minimalist watch on his wrist. Dark, sharp, and deliberate against her light, composed poise.

At the table, Nathaniel gently guided her into her seat, pulling out her chair with understated courtesy before taking his own beside her. Camera flashes intensified, the rapid staccato bursts making Victoria’s vision blur. For a fleeting moment, reality blurred with imagination, the knot in her stomach twisting tighter, her sense of self slipping. She steadied her breathing, clinging to composure until the knot in her stomach loosened little by little.

Fidel stood behind the podium, the company banners gleaming behind him. Cameras flashed, and the murmur of the press faded as he began, his voice deep and commanding.

“Today marks a milestone for both Salvatierra & Co. and Valencia Infratech, Inc.

Project Revival isn’t just a business initiative—it’s a commitment to rebuild and restore the key infrastructures that drive our nation forward.

This partnership is founded on shared trust, innovation, and unity. And it gives me great pride to announce this alliance not only between companies, but between families.

I am pleased to formally announce the engagement of my daughter, Victoria Salvatierra, and Nathaniel Valencia, Vice President of Valencia Infratech.”

A polite wave of applause filled the room. Cameras flashed like lightning.

Fidel stepped aside, and Nathaniel approached the podium with his usual quiet poise — precise in movement, unreadable in expression.

“Thank you, Mr. Salvatierra.”

“On behalf of my father, Elias Valencia, and the entire Valencia Infratech team, I’d like to express our gratitude for this opportunity to work hand-in-hand with Salvatierra & Co.

Project Revival represents more than just infrastructure—it’s about rebuilding what strengthens communities and empowers futures.

We look forward to this partnership, and to the lasting impact it will bring.”

His delivery was measured — each word deliberate, confident, perfectly polished for the press. Yet behind that calm exterior, something sharp flickered in his gaze when he turned toward Victoria.

She stood behind the podium with the practiced grace of someone whose body knew the motions by heart. Though a faint chill crept through her, and her pulse wavered under the glare of the lights, her posture never betrayed her. Every movement remained fluid, controlled — the picture of poise, even as her body quietly begged for reprieve.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here. This partnership is not only a business alliance, but a shared commitment to renewal and progress.

I’m honored to stand beside those who believe in that vision — and I look forward to seeing Project Revival come to life.”

The applause swelled again.

Flashes erupted.

As she returned to her seat, she exhaled in brief relief. The chill in her body lingered, the knot in her stomach slowly easing — yet her vision blurred beneath the relentless flashes of the cameras. Still, she sat with practiced composure, every inch the poised heiress, as if nothing inside her was unraveling.

Then came the signing.

The contracts lay before them, stark black ink against pristine white paper. Victoria’s eyes skimmed the document—her first time seeing its clauses. Her throat tightened. So this is it. Around her, pens scratched, names bloomed on the page. The weight of expectation pressed down until, finally, she lifted the pen.

Her hand did not tremble as she signed.

The cameras flashed again as she set her signature down, binding herself—both to the alliance and to Nathaniel.