The moment the last signature was set down, the press conference shifted gears. The host announced the Q&A, and immediately the media surged forward, microphones extended, voices overlapping in eagerness.

Victoria blinked against the barrage of flashes, her mind suddenly slipping into a strange haze. In the split second between one camera flare and the next, the crowd before her shifted. Where once were reporters, she saw small, endearing creatures—a red panda scratching its ear, a bear blinking sleepily, dogs wagging their tails, cats staring with aloof curiosity. The surreal warmth of the vision tugged a faint smile to her lips, softening her poised expression.

But then—her name cut through the air. “Victoria—!”

She snapped back to reality, her smile vanishing in an instant.

“Victoria, there’s a rumor circulating about you—that you jinx your engagements. Is this true?”

The words pierced the room like a knife, murmurs rippling among the press. But Victoria’s back straightened, her eyes sharpening with calm resolve. She leaned slightly toward the microphone, her voice steady and clear.

“No,” she said firmly. “There is no truth to that. It is purely coincidence that certain scandals happened to align with my past engagements.”

Her composed delivery carried the weight of finality. Yet before the silence could settle, another voice cut in.

“So this means,” another reporter pressed, “that this engagement will surely lead to a wedding?”

The reporter’s question hung in the air like a challenge.

Victoria met it head-on, her voice calm and clear. “Yes.”

Before the words could settle, Nathaniel’s voice cut through—smooth, steady, unyielding.

“This engagement is unlike her past ones,” he said, gaze sweeping the room. “Victoria and I were each other’s first love. We have history. Fate decided to finish what it started—and this time, the wedding is inevitable.”

The air cracked with tension. A beat of silence, then the press erupted—questions overlapping, flashes exploding.

First love? History?

The atmosphere fractured instantly.

Cameras flashed like gunfire. Reporters surged forward, desperate to seize the story Nathaniel had just detonated.

Beside him, Victoria’s pulse thundered in her ears. Fidel’s hand, resting on the table, tightened ever so slightly, the faintest crack in his composure.

Nathaniel, meanwhile, simply adjusted his cuff, his face calm, eyes cool—like a man who had just placed a piece on the board exactly where he wanted it. 

The makeup room was silent, heavy with unspoken tension. Only Fidel and Victoria remained inside.

Fidel’s gaze was sharp, his jaw set. He did not like surprises, and Nathaniel’s bold declaration in front of the press was exactly that—a surprise that soured his mood. His voice came low, clipped.

“What’s this nonsense Nathaniel said out there? That you are his first true love?”

Victoria froze. Her throat tightened, her fingers curling against her dress. “Yes, Dad… Nathaniel and I dated back in college.”

Fidel’s eyes narrowed, his stare pressing into her like a blade. “He was your first boyfriend?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Then why was I never told? Why did you never introduce him to me?”

Her lips parted, trembling, before she forced the words out. “Because… you told me I had to break up with him. My grades were slipping, and you said he was just a distraction.” She hesitated, the memory pressing down on her. “I couldn’t introduce him to you because you forbade me.”

Fidel leaned back slightly, raking through his memory. Then, like a lock clicking open, he remembered. His expression shifted—not softening, but sharpening with sudden clarity.

And then, to Victoria’s dismay, he laughed. Quiet at first, then deeper, filled with cold amusement.

“Of course.”

The puzzle was complete. Nathaniel’s sudden proposal, the reckless clause of one year, the conviction behind his speech—it all made sense now. This was not merely business. Nathaniel was fighting for Victoria.

A knight, bold enough to storm the castle for the hand of his princess.

But to Fidel, the image was not romantic—it was advantageous. If Nathaniel still burned for Victoria, then this alliance was not just signed on paper, but sealed with something more binding. Desire. Attachment.

“How brazen he is,” Fidel murmured, his lips curving into a calculating smile. “To think he would dare to leverage love in front of me.”

Victoria’s lips trembled. “But… he can’t still love me,” she said in a low, pained whisper. “I… I broke his heart…”

Fidel scoffed, his voice dry, dismissive. “Whether he loves you or not is irrelevant. What matters is that he believes he does. Love is leverage. And if he is still bound to you, then all the better for us. He shows his hand while I keep mine hidden.”

Victoria’s chest tightened. To her Dad, her past, her heart, her pain—all of it was nothing but another weapon in his arsenal. Another move on the board.

After their private exchange, Fidel’s words landed like commands, not suggestions.

“Fix your expression. Remain composed.”

Victoria inhaled deeply, then exhaled, smoothing her face into the serene mask he required. She swallowed the heaviness in her chest.

“And one more thing,” Fidel added, his tone cool. “Invite him to lunch. Get closer.”

The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavy as chains. Still, she obeyed, crossing the atrium where Nathaniel stood with Elias and his EA, Clara. Her heart grew heavier with every step. She told herself it was just business. Just lunch. She could do this—get through it, go home, and let the walls close in on her again.

Nathaniel noticed her before she could speak. His sharp gaze flicked toward her, then he smoothly excused himself from his father and Clara. With effortless confidence, he walked straight to her.

“Waiting for me again?” he asked, voice tinged with amusement.

“If you’re available today,” Victoria replied coolly, her tone steady despite the exhaustion pulling at her, “we could have lunch out.”

He studied her face, and the smirk came, slow and inevitable. “Twice in a row, huh? You’re starting to make it look like you’re the one chasing me for dates.”

Inside, Victoria sighed. She was already emotionally spent, yet she could not show it. She only wanted the day to end, for this charade to be over.

“If you’re not available, then maybe next time,” Victoria said coldly, already shifting as if to leave.

But Nathaniel caught her arm before she could slip away. His mouth curved into a knowing smirk as he leaned in just enough for his words to brush against her composure.

“Lunch is on me this time. I’ll take you somewhere better.”

Without hesitation, he slid his fingers through hers, intertwining them with deliberate ease.

Victoria stiffened, her brow knitting as she tried to pull back.

“Nathaniel…” she warned.

He chuckled softly, tightening his grip as though amused by her resistance.

“What’s wrong? You used to like it when I held your hand,” he teased, his voice dripping with mockery and charm.

Victoria shot Nathaniel a glare, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Vicky,” Elias called out, his tone carrying that easy warmth that always seemed to melt tension. He walked toward them with Clara following closely behind him, smiling like he meant every word. “It’s good to see you again.”

Victoria turned, a flicker of surprise softening her features.

“Good to see you too, Mr. Valencia,” she replied politely.

Elias chuckled, waving a hand dismissively.

“Mr. Valencia? Oh, come on, you used to call me Tito. Don’t make me feel old now.”

She hesitated for a beat, then smiled shyly. “Oh, Alright… Tito.”

“That’s better,” he said, his eyes kind, as though he was genuinely glad to see her after all these years.

Elias turned to his son with a knowing smile.

“Nate, take care of Vicky, and make sure you bring her somewhere nice for lunch.”

Nathaniel’s expression softened, just barely. A flicker of a smile crossed his lips.

“I will, Dad.”

“Good,” Elias said, a warmth flickering in his tone. “Well, I won’t keep you two. I just wanted to say hi.”

With that, he gave a brief nod and turned away, Clara falling into step beside him as they crossed the polished marble floor of the Salvatierra & Co. atrium. Their footsteps echoed softly until they disappeared beyond the glass doors, leaving behind a faint hush—and the quiet tension that lingered between Nathaniel and Victoria.

Nathaniel, who hadn’t let go of Victoria’s hand the entire time, glanced down at her. 

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, his tone low and assured.

He guided her forward, his hand firm around hers—a quiet, deliberate hold that spoke more than words ever could.