The headlines had quieted, but the whispers hadn't.
It had been a week since Elira and Alexander's relationship was publicly acknowledged—unofficially through leaked photos and formally in a hushed HR resolution that turned the whole company into a slow-burning rumor mill. Everyone had an opinion, and few cared to keep it to themselves.
"Elira Summers," one intern whispered at the water station. "How does it feel to date your boss?"
"She's living the dream," another chimed. "Or the scandal."
But Elira had learned to wear silence like armor. She didn't respond. She walked past with her head held high. Not because she wasn't scared—she was—but because she'd once survived death itself. This? This was just noise.
Her new office on the 16th floor was smaller and farther from Alexander's. The work was different, too. Less creative. More analysis. But it gave her space to breathe—and reflect. She missed seeing him between meetings, missed the occasional text passed under the desk. But she understood. They needed to be careful now.
Still, every lunch break, he came.
"Three missed calls, Lancaster," she teased as she opened the passenger door to his black car, sliding in beside him.
Alexander handed her a small box. "You forgot your earrings at my place."
She opened it—two delicate silver hoops nestled in velvet.
"These aren't mine," she said.
"They are now," he replied, smirking.
They drove to the edge of the harbor, parked in their usual spot overlooking the sea. It had become their unofficial escape.
She turned to him. "Are we reckless?"
"No," he said. "We're human."
"You don't think this will ruin your reputation?"
He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're worth the risk."
They kissed again—slowly, carefully. She still trembled sometimes when their lips met. Not because she doubted the love, but because of how real it all felt.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
It was a message from Aria.
> Can we talk? Dinner? You, me, and Aiden. Tonight?
Elira stared at it, heart skipping.
Alexander noticed. "Everything okay?"
She nodded slowly. "The twins want to see me."
He smiled gently. "You should go."
Elira hesitated. "What if they regret what I told them? What if they think I'm crazy now?"
"You raised them once. They've already come back to you once more."
---
Later that evening, Elira stood outside a modest Italian restaurant nestled in a quiet street of Makati. She wore a soft lavender blouse, black slacks, and low heels. Her heart thundered in her chest.
Aiden spotted her first through the window. He waved her in.
"Hey," he said when she stepped inside. "We got the booth by the corner. Quieter."
Aria slid over to make space. "We ordered you iced tea. You still like lemon, right?"
Elira smiled. "I do."
The silence was comfortable for the first few minutes. They shared small talk—work updates, books they were reading, how Aiden had nearly burned down his apartment trying to cook. Then Aria set down her fork and leaned in.
"We want you to be part of our lives again."
Elira blinked. "I never stopped wanting that."
Aiden nodded. "We don't fully understand how this whole reincarnation thing works. And it's weird, yes. You're younger than us. You're dating Dad. You hum the lullaby she—you—sang to us when we were babies. But we know in our gut it's true."
Aria swallowed hard. "I've had dreams. About her. About you. Same dreams since I was a kid. I think I was waiting for you to come back."
Tears welled up in Elira's eyes. "I'm here now."
Aiden smiled. "And Dad's happier than we've seen him in years."
Elira chuckled softly. "He still doesn't believe in fate."
"He doesn't have to," Aria said. "You're here. That's all that matters."
They talked for over two hours—about childhood memories, about their mother's death, about the things they never said aloud. Elira told them about the moment she woke in her new body, 22 years ago, confused and crying and unable to remember her name. About the flashes of memory that returned slowly. About the day she walked into Lancaster Enterprises and saw him again.
When they parted that night, Aria hugged her first. Tight, long, and warm.
"You have us," she whispered. "Always."
Aiden followed, quieter. But his embrace said just as much.
As Elira walked back to her apartment under the Manila stars, she felt it again—the lightness in her chest that only love, true and unconditional, could bring.
---
The next morning, Alexander was waiting in her office before she even arrived.
"Good morning, boss," she said playfully, setting down her bag.
He smirked. "You saw the twins last night?"
She nodded. "They believe me."
His expression softened. "They always had strong hearts."
"They want to be part of this," she said. "Us."
Alexander stepped closer. "Do you want this?"
Elira's smile faded into something deeper—more serious. "Yes. But I want to earn it. I want to build something with you. Not just fall back into the past."
He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Then we start fresh. Right here."
Their moment was interrupted by a knock.
It was Yuna.
"Oh," she said, surprised. "Sorry. I can come back—"
"No, it's fine," Elira said quickly.
But the damage was done.
The next hour, someone posted a photo in the company's private Slack channel. A blurry capture of Alexander leaving Elira's office with a hand on her lower back.
This time, the buzz spread wider. Colleagues whispered louder. Someone made a joke at her expense during lunch. Another posted a "sugar daddy" meme, then quickly deleted it.
Yuna sat beside Elira in the cafeteria. "You okay?"
"I'm tired," Elira said honestly.
"You knew it wouldn't be easy."
"I thought maybe love would be enough."
Yuna gave her a look. "It is. But people fear what they don't understand. Especially when it threatens their ideas of normal."
"I'm not normal," Elira said with a soft laugh.
"No," Yuna said. "You're better."
That evening, Elira stayed late.
Alexander was in a board meeting, so she finished her reports alone. When she finally left, it was almost 9 p.m. The hallways were dim, and the building nearly empty. But as she turned the corner to the exit, she stopped.
On the wall outside the executive conference room, someone had spray-painted words in red:
> 22 & sleeping with the boss. Climbing the ladder, huh?
She stared, horrified.
Then footsteps approached behind her.
Alexander.
His jaw tightened when he saw the message.
"Who did this?" he demanded.
"I don't know," Elira whispered. "I—"
"I'll find out," he said, already dialing security.
But Elira grabbed his arm. "Don't. Please."
He looked at her. "You want to ignore this?"
"No," she said. "But I don't want to become the story. I want our love to be bigger than this—bigger than them."
Alexander took her face in his hands. "Then we stop hiding."
She blinked. "What?"
"No more secrecy. No more pretending. Tomorrow, we tell everyone. Officially."
"Won't that make it worse?"
"Maybe. But it will also make it real."
Elira searched his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
That night, he didn't take her home. He took her to their home—his estate in Tagaytay, where she had once walked barefoot through the garden as his young bride. The house was bigger now. Quieter. But it still held the echo of her laughter.
They stood on the balcony, overlooking the lake.
"I've missed you," he said softly.
"You've always had me," she replied.
He turned toward her. "Then let's not lose each other again."
He leaned down, kissed her forehead, then her lips. And in that moment, under the stars, with the wind rustling the trees, Elira felt whole.
Not because of a title.
Not because of his power.
But because in his arms, she remembered who she was.
And who she had always been.
---
End of Chapter 10