Lucien POV
It started with a buzz.
Two, actually.
Then a third.
By the fifth vibration in my jacket pocket, I knew it wasn't business. Jaden never texted this much unless it was about poker, a PR disaster, or he needs my help to bail him out of something.
But the second I saw the message, my stomach dropped.
Jaden:
Ahia. Check this. Now. Someone sent this to me from some girl named Carla Villarama.
Carla who?
I tapped the link. My phone redirected to Instagram.
Story highlight. A poorly filtered group photo at what looked like a dinner party. Dim light, wine glasses. Four people. Smiling like idiots. One guy—me—with his arm casually draped over a woman.
Her. Anri.
No tag on me, obviously. I didn't even have Instagram.
But she was tagged. And just like that, the illusion shattered.
There she was, soft-lit and glowing, leaning slightly into me. Smiling like she trusted the man next to her. Like she didn't know he was Lucius Adrien Tantoco, heir to the empire her country called a monarchy of money.
And I knew—without a shred of doubt—that was how she found out.
From this.
From one harmless Instagram story by her friend, Carla.
I don't even know how she got connections here in Manila, but apparently Jaden did. Of course he did.
Another text popped up.
Jaden:
Ahia, I know the watch on your wrist. That is 100% you.
A minute later, my phone rang.
I answered, jaw tight.
"You really thought no one would notice?" Jaden's voice was amused, not angry.
"You know people live for this shit, right? Especially in our circles. You give them mystery? They sniff it out like blood."
"Where did you even get that?" I muttered.
"Where do you think? Someone sent it to me. I don't know her. She's not in our circle, but she's orbiting around it. Carla Villarama. From a Manila family who owned a textile business, moved to Australia for university. She's got mutuals with half the girls at the peninsula gala."
I said nothing.
"You weren't tagged, of course." he went on. "But the girl was. Anri Sevilla. I thought she looked familiar... then I realized she modeled for the Maharlika campaign."
My stomach sank deeper.
"And suddenly," Jaden said, "all your weird behavior made sense."
I let out a breath. "What weird behavior."
"You—hovering around the Maharlika shoot for weeks, like you had nothing better to do? Vice Chairman of the entire ET Group? Suddenly invested in creative approvals and theme music?"
"I was overseeing branding." I said flatly.
"Ahia, you don't even like branding. You didn't even attend the previous campaign launch in Singapore. But this one? You were showing up in tailored shirts like some model-handler-slash-stalker."
I ran a hand down my face.
"You made it so obvious," he added, tone softer now. "You were gone. Mentally. I haven't seen you this obsessed over anything since... ever."
I stayed quiet.
"And I heard," he continued, "that someone saw you kissing a girl at the recent charity ball. I didn't believe it. Thought it was some tabloid rumor. You? Making out in public? Please. You barely make eye contact with strangers."
I didn't respond. My silence said enough.
Then, more gently: "So that was true, huh? That's her. The girl in the story. Anri."
"Yes." I said, followed by a sigh.
"She's based in Melbourne. That's why you were in Melbourne all this time?" my stupid younger brother stating the obvious.
Jaden's voice sliced clean through the silence, teasing, but not unkind.
"I thought you had some project in Australia," he said finally, slower this time. "A Maharlika expansion thing. Logistics partners. Investment meetings. That's what you said, right?"
"It was all of that," I muttered.
"But Ahia... you were practically based there," Jaden said, incredulous now. "You were flying to Melbourne like it was your second fucking office. Every other week. I thought you were closing a deal or buying a company—hell, I figured maybe Lolo gave you something big. But no. It was for a girl."
I didn't deny it. Couldn't.
"You could've sent a whole team to handle that stuff," he continued. "You usually do. You delegate like a man possessed. But this? You were hands-on. Present. Disappearing without telling anyone. And now I get it."
"I didn't expect it to go that far," I said, quieter now.
"But it did," Jaden shot back. "You got attached. The Lucius Adrien Tantoco, with the emotional range of a courtroom painting, finally fell for a girl..."
I nearly smiled at that. Almost.
"Ahia, you better get ahead of this. Because if I saw it, and girls from polo club saw it, then you know the second family's already screenshotting it over brunch. I'd bet anything Ninang Lori's planning a phone call to Lola right now." Jaden warned.
"I'll handle it."
"And Mom?"
"I'll handle her too."
Jaden snorted. "Like their disappointment is some minor PR crisis, huh?"
"It is a PR crisis. Just a personal one."
"I'm serious, bro. Ahma wants you with someone decent—you know, proper Chinese girl. From a good family. The daughter or niece of a tycoon. ICA or Saint Jude. Fluent in Hokkien, Filipino and English, moves in the same circles. But this girl? She's not just outside their radar. She's outside their universe."
"I like her for who she is and that's all that matters." I said sharply.
A beat. Then Jaden laughed, low and disbelieving.
"You've really lost it, huh?"
"Maybe."
"I mean... fuck. You're actually in love."
I didn't say anything. The silence said enough.
"And I'm the one who was supposed to blow the family legacy," he said. "I inherited Dad's womanizing genes, not you. I was supposed to be the scandal. But now look—my clean-cut brother's out here blowing up every Tantoco rule for one girl."
I didn't respond. Not right away. My throat was tight, voice caught somewhere between exhaustion and dread.
But of course, Jaden couldn't leave it at that.
"Ahia, please, for the love of God," he added, "don't screw up in front of the whole family."
I scoffed. "Thanks for the support."
"No, I'm being selfish, actually," he said, deadpan. "Because if you keep going down this rogue heir path—dating some random girl from who-knows where, posting up in Melbourne like you're avoiding your birthright—then guess who becomes their new favorite?"
There was a beat. Then he groaned.
"Me, Ahia. Me."
A reluctant laugh escaped my chest.
"Do you think I want that pressure?" he went on. "You think I want Ahma looking at me like I'm the second coming of the Ah Kong? You think I want Mom introducing me to politicians' daughters and investment banker heiresses at every brunch? Hell no."
I could picture him pacing somewhere in Rockwell, hand in his hair, wine glass in the other.
"I've spent years crafting the perfect persona," he continued. "The charming spare. Fun, harmless, slightly too loud at dinners but lovable enough to keep around. No expectations. No board seats. No family office drama."
"Then maybe don't be so good at being good," I muttered.
"I'm not good. You're just slipping," he shot back. "You fall in love with one girl—one girl—and suddenly I'm one charity event away from being legacy material."
I laughed fully that time. "God forbid."
"Exactly. So do us both a favor: keep your title, and don't let me become the heir out of pity."
There was something disarming in his voice. A truth wrapped in teasing. Because underneath the jokes, I knew Jaden was worried for me.