79

The morning after the mall incident, the villa was unusually quiet. No chatter from the kitchen. No clinking of plates. Just the faint hum of air-conditioning and the weight of yesterday's headlines that had already found their way online — "Lea and Liam De Torre spotted at SM Aura — chaos ensues as fans swarm mother and son."

Lea sat in the breakfast nook, scrolling through her phone with a grimace. "I swear, people can't even let a mother buy art supplies without turning it into a spectacle."

Rafael walked in, still half-dressed in his morning jog attire, towel slung over his neck. "You should've brought Alex."

Lea didn't look up. "I did call him."

"After it went viral."

She shot him a look. "We were doing fine until the TikTok crowd found us."

Rafael sighed and poured himself coffee. "You and our son can't just 'blend in,' Lei. You both glow. You're recognizable even in sunglasses and a cap."

Liam entered the room then, hair messy, dragging his feet. "I'm sorry, Papa."

Lea looked up immediately, her expression softening. "Oh, sweetheart. It's not your fault."

Rafael crouched to meet his son's eye level. "No, it's not. But from now on, when we say security, we mean security. Understood?"

"Yes, Papa," Liam replied sheepishly.

By mid-morning, the calm was broken by the sound of tires crunching gravel outside the villa. Alex appeared by the door, clearing his throat. "Sir, Ma'am... Doña Beatriz is here again."

Rafael nearly choked on his coffee. "Again?"

Lea groaned under her breath. "The surveillance team must've updated her."

Liam's eyes widened. "Lola's here?"

"Yes," Alex replied. "And she looks... very alert, ma'am."

That was never good news.

The moment Beatriz entered the villa, she filled the room with her presence. Her silver hair was perfectly pinned, her walking cane more ceremonial than necessary.

"Rafael. Lea." She nodded curtly, then her gaze landed on Liam. "And there's my little media darling."

Liam froze. "Hi, Lola."

Beatriz arched a brow. "Do you know how many calls I received yesterday? I had to assure several board members of Brent International that my great-grandson wasn't kidnapped at a shopping mall."

Lea started to explain, "It was supposed to be a simple school errand—"

"—that turned into a trending topic on social media," Beatriz cut her off smoothly, removing her gloves. "The family name carries weight, Lea. It draws eyes whether you like it or not."

Rafael tried to mediate. "Lola, they were just buying school supplies."

Beatriz turned to him, tone sharp as glass. "And yet it took three security calls and two mall guards to manage the crowd. You, my dear grandson, are supposed to be running a corporation, not a circus."

Rafael clenched his jaw but said nothing.

Lea exhaled and sat beside Liam, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We're sorry, Lola. Truly. But it's unfair to pin this on a child."

Beatriz softened — just slightly. "I'm not angry at him. I'm concerned for him. The press will turn anything into a narrative, and I won't have them write his story before he's even old enough to live it."

Liam fidgeted with his fingers. "I didn't mean to make a scene, Lola."

Beatriz's tone gentled. "I know you didn't, my boy. But sometimes, being born into a name means the world will watch you even when you do nothing at all."

Lea met her eyes, quiet but firm. "He's still a child, Lola. He deserves to live like one."

Beatriz's gaze lingered on her granddaughter-in-law — a stare of quiet respect. "Perhaps. But if history has taught me anything, the world doesn't care for innocence. It only sees power. And my job is to make sure he learns how to carry it before it crushes him."

The conversation lingered long after Beatriz left.

Lea sat by the window, lost in thought, watching Liam in the garden with his sketchbook. He was drawing quietly — something abstract, a swirl of blues and reds.

Rafael came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "He'll be fine," he murmured.

"I know," she whispered, "but I hate that he has to grow up under a microscope."

"He's a De Torre," Rafael said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "We don't get to choose when the spotlight finds us."

Lea turned to look at him, a small, wry smile forming. "Maybe not. But we can teach him how to stand in it without burning."

Rafael smiled faintly. "That's my wife."

"Damn right," she said softly, leaning back into him.

Outside, Liam looked up from his sketchpad, glancing toward the window. His parents were silhouetted against the afternoon light — strong, unbreakable, together.

He smiled to himself and turned back to his drawing, adding three figures now — a man, a woman, and a child — standing beneath a radiant sun.