61

It had been a month since the chaos — a month since Marco Villareal showed his face, since Rafael's fury nearly ended in bloodbath, and since Lea had stood between her husband and destruction. The De Torre villa had returned to uneasy quiet: Rafael working from the study, Lea managing the house and Ellie, who was now almost three months pregnant, her morning sickness ebbing but her emotions rawer than ever.

Liam, mercifully, was at school — his laughter and questions spared from what was about to unfold.

The day was bright but tense, sunlight too sharp for comfort. Lea was reviewing paperwork in the lounge when Alex appeared at the doorway.

"Ma'am," he said carefully, "Mr. and Mrs. Villareal are at the gate."

Lea's pen stopped mid-scratch. Rafael looked up from his laptop across the room. "Let them in," he said evenly.

Ellie froze. "They're here?"

Rafael glanced at her, voice calm but edged. "You're safe here. That's all that matters."

Still, her hand instinctively went to her stomach.

The sound of heels against marble was steady — deliberate — when Diane entered. She was radiant, if a little pale. Dressed in beige silk, her posture was impeccable, and her eyes flicked immediately to Lea and Rafael before softening on Ellie. Marco followed a step behind her, face clean, jaw almost fully healed save for a faint yellowed shadow — the only remnant of Rafael's wrath.

Diane's hand, adorned with a gold ring, glinted as she brushed her hair behind her ear. It was subtle but unmistakable. The kind of gesture that didn't need words.

Lea's gaze caught it instantly. The sight froze her for a breath — not because of the jewelry, but because of what it meant. For a brief second, she felt that old fondness — the memory of late nights at TVN, shared secrets, laughter, treating Diane like the younger sister she'd never had.

But then she looked at Ellie — pale, trembling, still trying to breathe evenly — and all of that affection burned away.

Lea's lips parted, her voice low but cutting. "You married him."

Diane's eyes darted between them, and for a fleeting moment, guilt flickered across her face. "Yes," she said softly. "Last week."

The air in the room thickened.

Ellie's breath hitched. She blinked, once, twice — then her knees gave out.

Rafael moved before anyone else could. In one swift motion, he caught her as she fell, his arms bracing her shoulders. "Ellie!" His voice broke with panic. "Breathe, anak, breathe."

Ellie clutched his shirt, her voice trembling. "You— you married him?" Her eyes were on Diane now, disbelief and hurt mixing like oil and fire.

Lea knelt beside them, stroking Ellie's hair, but her gaze was locked on Diane — cold, fierce, and unflinching.

"I treated you like family," Lea said, her tone shaking not with weakness, but fury contained within gentleness. "You were in our home, at our table. I defended you when everyone thought you were complicit. But now..." She gestured toward Diane's hand, the gleaming band that seemed to mock everything. "You knew what Marco did. You knew, Diane. And you still said yes."

Diane's eyes brimmed with tears, her composure slipping. "Ate, please. It wasn't—"

"It wasn't what?" Lea interrupted. "A choice? Because it was. You could've chosen to walk away. You could've chosen not to make a mockery of my daughter's pain."

"I love him," Diane whispered helplessly. "I can't just—"

Lea's voice broke through like steel. "Love doesn't excuse cowardice."

The room went silent except for Ellie's ragged breathing.

Marco finally spoke, stepping forward. "I came to apologize. Again. I know I failed Ellie. I know I caused pain. But I'm not abandoning my responsibility. I'll provide for her and the baby. I'll do what I can."

Rafael stood, pulling Ellie gently behind him, his voice calm but cold enough to chill the air. "Provide?"

Marco swallowed. "I'll make sure she and the baby have what they need. I'm not walking away."

Rafael's expression hardened. "You already did."

Marco's mouth opened, but Rafael's voice cut through. "You work for my network, Marco. You built your career under my name. Every peso you make is funded by the empire my family built. What makes you think that what you can 'provide' for Ellie, we can't tenfold?"

Marco faltered.

Rafael stepped closer, tone low but sharp as glass. "You got my daughter pregnant. Then you ran. You left her to fall apart in the same house that made her whole again. And now you think you can patch that up by signing checks?"

"Kuya Raf—" Diane began, voice cracking.

"Don't," he snapped, eyes burning. "You don't get to plead for him. Not after that ring."

Diane flinched.

Ellie straightened slowly, still shaking, but found her voice. "You both made your choices," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "And I'll live with mine. But don't expect me to ever see either of you the same way again."

Lea's hand came to rest gently on her daughter's shoulder, but her gaze never left Diane. "You wanted peace, Diane? You should've chosen integrity first."

Marco tried to speak again, but Rafael cut him off with a single, final statement: "You'll keep your post at TVN," he said. "Because I don't make professional decisions out of rage anymore. But don't mistake that for forgiveness. You'll answer to the board — and to your conscience — long after this meeting ends."

As Alex escorted the Villareals out, the silence they left behind was heavy — not angry anymore, just hollow.

Ellie sat on the couch, hands trembling, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Lea knelt before her, brushing them away gently.

"I'm sorry, anak," she whispered. "You didn't deserve this."

Rafael stood behind them, watching both the women he loved most in the world — one broken, one trying not to break.

When Lea looked up at him, her voice was soft but firm. "You didn't lose your temper. Thank you."

Rafael exhaled deeply. "It wasn't restraint," he said quietly. "It was exhaustion."

Lea nodded slowly, understanding completely. "Then rest, Paeng. We'll carry this together."

And as Rafael sank into the armchair across from them, his gaze drifted toward the door Diane had walked through. There had been no shouting, no violence — just truth, delivered clean and merciless.

Sometimes, that was the harsher punishment.