Disclaimer: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.

The Mallari residence had been converted into a high-security maternity facility, run by a man who was currently attempting to "child-proof" a wooden coffee table that had been there since 1994 and a lady with a spatula.

"Ma, please! I am sitting! I have been sitting for forty-five minutes!" Elizien Tan protested as Aling Cora tried to wedge a third floral throw pillow behind her back.

"Sitting is not resting, Elizien! You are sitting with intent," Aling Cora scolded, hovering over her with a bowl of warm arroz caldo. "And don't look at the ginger too hard. Just eat it. It's good for the 'precious cargo.' Tomas! Did you finish covering the sharp corners of the TV stand with the pool noodles?"

Mang Tomas was duct-taping neon-blue pool noodles to every piece of furniture with an edge, and he exclaimed, "Almost done, Cora!" from the living room. "I also bought a fire extinguisher for the kitchen. You can never be too safe with a Tan heir in the house!"

Elizien groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It's not an heir yet! We don't even know for sure! I told you, it's probably just a very aggressive stomach flu that coincidentally makes me want to cry when I see a baby diaper commercial!"

Emman snorted loudly and mockingly as he leaned on the kitchen counter and peeled an orange. "Yeah, Bunso. A stomach flu that lasts three weeks and makes you smell colors. Totally normal. I'm sure Zayrius has 'stomach flus' that make him buy baby-sized aviator goggles, too."

"Kuya, if you don't stop teasing me, I will tell Zayrius you called his car a toy," Elizien hissed.

"He already knows I think his car is a toy," Emman laughed, tossing an orange wedge into his mouth. "But seriously, if you're so sure it's just 'work stress,' why are you currently wearing your sweater backward and staring at a glass of water like it insulted your ancestors?"

The Secret Audit

By 8:00 PM, Elizien couldn't take the suspense—or the pool noodles—any longer. Her logical, accountant brain was screaming for data. She needed an objective, verifiable result.

"I'm going to the pharmacy," she announced, standing up.

The whole family yelled, "NO!" together.

"I'll go!" Emman volunteered, grabbing his keys. "If the paparazzi see the 'Billionaire's Wife' buying a pregnancy test in Quezon City, the Tan Holdings stock will jump twenty points before he even lands the plane. I'll go undercover."

Emman reappeared thirty minutes later, slipping a paper bag across the dining table with a spy-like air of conspiracy. "I got three different brands. One is digital, one is 'early result,' and one says it's '99% accurate'—which, for an auditor, is basically a margin of error you can't ignore."

Elizien snatched the bag and bolted for the bathroom.

The Mallari family gathered outside the door as if they were awaiting the outcome of a crucial bar exam. Mang Tomas held a digital stopwatch, Emman was filming the entire event on his phone "for the family archives," and Aling Cora was murmuring a novena.

"Elizien! Is it done?" Aling Cora hissed through the wood.

Elizien's voice came frantically from inside, "Ma! It takes three minutes! Stop breathing through the keyhole!" she said.

Elizien was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the bathroom, gazing at the little plastic stick on the counter. She had the impression that she was awaiting the outcome of a tax evasion lawsuit worth billions of pesos. Her heart pounded frantically and syncopatedly on her ribcage like a drum.

Please be a mistake. Please be real. Please don't let Zayrius be mid-flight when I find out.

She looked down.

Just one line. Then a second, faint, pink line appeared as though it were drawn by fate itself.

Elizien's breath hitched. She ripped open the second box. Then the third.

Three sticks. Six lines. 100% consensus. The audit was closed.

She caressed her still-flat stomach and muttered, "Oh my god," her hand shaking. "Zayrius... we're having a co-pilot."

The Hangar: 11:00 PM

Rain was beating down on the private hangar's corrugated aluminum while the storm over Manila howled. At last, Zayrius was allowed to land. He had driven the Cessna Citation straight to the Tan private bay, avoiding the main terminal.

The hangar doors groaned open, and the sleek jet taxied in, its engines whining as they powered down.

Exhausted, Zayrius came out of the cockpit. His "grumpy" energy was at an all-time high, his hair was a mess, and his flight suit was rumpled. He'd been battling crosswinds for six hours, wondering why Elizien hadn't responded to his last three satellite pings.

He stepped off the stairs, and his scowl deepened when he saw the entire Mallari family standing there.

"What's going on?" Zayrius commanded in a low, growling voice. "Tomas? Emman? Why are you all here at midnight? And why is there a blue pool noodle sticking out of Emman's back pocket?"

From behind her brother, Elizien moved forward. She held a little gift-wrapped box in her hands and appeared pale with wide eyes.

"Zayrius," she said, her voice shaking.

Zayrius was at her side in a second, his hands gripping her shoulders, his eyes scanning her for injuries. "Are you hurt? Did the board do something? Is it the audit? Elizien, talk to me."

She said, "The audit is finished, Zayrius," and gave him the box. "I found a discrepancy in the family ledger. A very... significant addition to the assets."

Zayrius frowned, his fingers fumbling with the ribbon. "Assets? We haven't acquired any new—"

He opened the box. A tiny white plastic stick with two very pink, very clear lines rested on a bed of silk. It was accompanied by a small pair of leather aviator booties that Aling Cora had insisted on purchasing on the way there from the 24-hour mall.

The "Dragon" of the sky went absolutely, 100% silent.

Zayrius gazed at the test. He examined the booties. He reviewed the test. In fact, his jaw, which was normally set in a firm, unyielding line, fell.

"Is this..." His voice broke, a sound so raw that it made Aling Cora sob instantly. "Elizien? Is this a navigational error?"

"No navigational error, Captain," Elizien said, tears finally spilling over. "We have a new passenger. ETA: Seven and a half months."

Instead of merely hugging her, Zayrius pulled her off the ground and buried his face in her neck. There was no "Chairman" left. There was no "Dragon" left. In a rainy hangar in the middle of the night, there was only a man clutching his wife, trembling with a beautiful, dreadful ecstasy.

"I'm going to need a bigger plane," Zayrius choked out, half-laughing, half-crying.

"You're going to need to learn how to change a diaper without calling a board meeting first!" Emman shouted, clapping Zayrius on the back.

Zayrius pulled back, looking at Elizien with a fierce, burning devotion. He reached down, his large hand trembling as he rested it over her stomach. "A baby," he whispered, a smile finally breaking across his handsome, tired face—a smile so bright it outshone the hangar lights. "A little version of you."

"Actually," Elizien teased, wiping a tear from his cheek. "I'm hoping they have your eyes. But maybe my ability to actually follow a schedule."

Laughing, Zayrius gave her a passionate kiss that seemed to promise the world. The Dragon finally realized that his greatest flight wasn't into the clouds while the rain pounded on the roof and the Mallari parents quarreled over who should be given the baby's name.

It was right here, on solid ground, with the tiny heartbeat that was about to change the world.