They called it legacy.
I called it a prison in pearls.
Every dinner was a board meeting.
Every birthday? An announcement.
At seven, I knew how to calculate ROI.
At ten, i could recite the Zobel conglomerate's quarterly goals like a morning prayer.
No one asked me what i wanted.
Gusto kong maging veterinarian noon. I liked animals more than people. Hindi sila nagsisinungaling. Hindi sila nagpe-pretend. Pero sabi ng daddy ko, "There's no money in that. Next."
Next.
That was my childhood.
No, that was my life.
Every time i tried to speak, someone talked over me.
So eventually, I stopped trying.
And when you keep getting shut down, you start to believe the silence is safer. Cleaner. Less disappointing.
Until one day, it's not silence anymore. It's armor.
People call me cold.
But really, I just don't waste time with noise.
I checked my Rolex. 9:14 AM.
The presscon was in three hours.
We were supposed to arrive together. For the image. For the illusion. For the f*cking brand deal na mas pinili ng pamilya ko over my own peace.
Bata pa lang ako, tinuruan na akong ngumiti sa harap ng mga taong ayaw ko.
Pero ngayong 26 na ako, I learned to smile with my eyes dead.
That's talent.
I walked down the condo hallway, heels echoing against marble.
Penthouse 12C. Calix Montemayor. The headache of my life.
I knocked. Twice. Hard.
May kumaluskos sa loob. Then footsteps. Then… heels?
My eyes narrowed.
Pagbukas ng pinto, hindi si Calix ang sumalubong sa akin. Babae. Half-naked. Smudged lipstick. Tousled hair. Yung tipong mukhang kakagising lang… or kagagaling lang sa kama.
Classic.
"Oh," she said, blinking. "Uh… hi?"
I didn't even blink. "Tell your one-night stand we have a presscon in three hours."
She gawked. "What—?"
"You heard me." I turned around before she could open her mouth again. "And tell him to fix his tie this time. Mukha siyang tambay sa last shoot."
Hindi ko na hinintay ang sagot niya.
Naglakad ako paalis, straight posture, chin up.
Let her process whatever shame she still had left.
Pero barely ten steps away from the elevator, narinig ko ang pinto na bumukas ulit.
"Aurora," Calix's voice. Rough. Sleep-heavy. Annoyingly deep.
I didn't stop walking.
"Ano ba—she just slept over. Nothing happened."
I pressed the elevator button. "Save the PR spin for the press. Not interested."
Tahimik siya for a second.
Then: "You're not jealous, are you?"
I laughed under my breath. "I wouldn't be jealous even if she had your last name tattooed on her chest."
Ding. Elevator opened.
I stepped in, turned to face him.
"For the record," I added, eyes flat, "this marriage is a contract. Not a leash. We do our jobs, show up when needed, and pretend like we're tolerable. That's it. No more. No less."
I pressed the button for the ground floor.
"Also," I said as the doors started to close, "next time you bring a girl over, make sure she leaves before the CEO wife knocks."
Click.
Elevator doors shut.
Peace.
The elevator opened to the private lobby. A chauffeur in a LUNARE blazer stood waiting.
"Ma'am Aurora, car's ready," he said.
"Good. I'm not."
He didn't know what to say. He smiled. Pity smile. Yung tipong, 'Grabe, ang taray naman nito,' but politely.
I got in the backseat of the Rolls, crossed my legs, pulled out my tablet. No small talk. No energy for fake warmth.
I didn't even glance at Calix's name on the chat bubble that popped up on screen.
CALIX:
She left. Happy?
ME:
Not particularly. But congratulations on the new STD.
Send.
Airplane mode on.
By the time we arrived at GMA, halos isang dosenang press and camera crews na ang nag-aabang sa labas ng studio.
Flashbulbs. Paparazzi. "Power couple!" daw.
What a joke.
Calix emerged from his car first. As usual, looking like sin in a custom black suit na mukhang hindi niya pinag-isipan, pero perfect ang fit. Ganyan talaga 'pag pinanganak kang may genetic superiority at budget.
He didn't glance at me.
But he offered his hand, as if scripted.
I took it—out of obligation, not interest.
I leaned in just enough for the cameras to catch it, then whispered, "Next time, tell your side piece to wear pants."
He chuckled, low and amused. "Jealous?"
I smiled—sweet, fake, acidic. "Bored."
He smirked like it didn't touch him.
But i knew it did.
I was the only person he couldn't flirt into submission.
And he hated that.
Inside the studio, the hosts were all smiles.
"Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time—together in public since their wedding—the stunning Aurora Ysabelle Zobel and the heir to the Montemayor Holdings, Calix Montemayor!"
Applause.
I adjusted my mic. Sat straight. Dead eyes, pageant smile.
"First question po," a reporter said. "You two looked so in love sa photos! How did you know he—or she—was the one?"
My brow twitched.
Calix leaned forward, charming.
"She hated me," he said. "Still does, probably."
Nagtawanan ang press.
"Pero i think that's what made me fall. Aurora doesn't pretend. She says what she means. And when you're around that kind of truth, you realize how much of your life is a lie."
Wow. May pa-deep?
I looked at him, slow and unimpressed.
Then back at the camera.
"Love wasn't part of the deal," I said, voice calm. "Our marriage was strategic. We didn't fall. We signed."
Tahimik ang room for two beats.
Then nervous laughter.
"That's just Aurora being Aurora," Calix covered smoothly. "Matapang. Diretso. Kaya ko siya pinakasalan."
He reached for my hand. I let him.
For the photo.
He squeezed.
I didn't squeeze back.
Thirty more questions, a couple of sponsor shoutouts, and one too many fake giggles later, the presscon was over.
We walked out the back exit, away from the media.
I pulled my hand from his. "Next time, huwag mo akong biglaang hawakan sa labas ng script."
"You were cold," he said. "We needed chemistry."
"I'm not your actress. I'm your business partner."
He leaned against the car, eyes sharp. "Right. Just business."
I didn't reply.
I just opened the door, slid into the car, and pulled my phone out to check my schedule.
I had training in thirty minutes.
-
Dressage. Jumping. Cross-country prep.
Three separate modules, one exhausted rider.
I changed into my training gear sa loob ng sports club lounge—tailored white breeches, a navy-blue riding jacket with my initials embroidered in gold. Aurora Ysabelle Zobel. Heiress. Ice queen. Equestrienne.
Nothing casual ever fits me.
Paglabas ko, the stable assistants were already waiting. My white Hanoverian stallion, Midas, was standing tall, freshly groomed. Braided mane, polished hooves, gleaming coat na parang kinulayan ng perlas. Ganyan dapat. Perfection or nothing.
"Miss Zobel," yuko agad ng isa. "We adjusted the stirrups per your last note."
I nodded, impassive. "Good. Did you fix the left rein? It was slipping last week."
"Yes po, ma'am. Replaced na with reinforced leather."
I didn't smile.
I mounted smoothly, my legs locking in as if i were built for the saddle.
Kasi nga i was. I've been riding since i was eight—back when the only thing that made me feel human was a horse.
Sa likod ng helmet at gloves, I was invisible.
I wasn't the Zobel princess.
I wasn't the accessory to a marriage merger.
I was just muscle, balance, control.
I tapped my heels.
Midas started walking into the arena.
And for a moment, tahimik ang buong mundo.
No cameras.
No PR strategy.
No f*cking Calix.
Just me, my horse, and the rhythm of precision.
"Warm-up," sabi ko, then steered him to the diagonal.
We trotted.
Circles.
Serpentines.
Half-passes.
Controlled. Silent. Sharp.
Hindi ito para sa fame. Hindi ito for image-building. This—this was the only part of my life na walang nakikialam. My parents don't attend my events unless may foreign investor present. Calix once came to a competition but stayed in the car. Hindi niya gets.
No one gets it.
Except Midas.
"Good boy," I whispered, patting his neck as we slowed into a walk.
But before i could switch to jumping, may sumulpot na figure sa gilid ng arena.
Si Madam Portia Celdran. My trainer. National champion. Olympic-level bitch.
"Sloppy ang transitions mo kanina," she said, no greeting. "You dropped your inside shoulder."
"I know," I replied, voice flat. "I'm fixing it."
"Fix it now, not sa competition mismo," she snapped. "You don't get to be average, Aurora. You know the stakes."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Kailangan mong manalo this year. Wala tayong 'decent effort' lang. The Zobel name is on your saddle, like it or not."
Like it or not.
That's the story of my life.
She motioned toward the next setup—show jumping poles arranged in a complex course.
Triple combo. Angled oxers. Height: brutal.
"Ready?" she asked.
I didn't answer. I just signaled Midas forward.
The moment we cleared the first jump, I wasn't Aurora the heiress. I wasn't Aurora the wife. I wasn't Aurora the cold-hearted PR princess everyone loved to hate.
I was just Aurora.
Airborne.
Precise.
Free.
But the thing about freedom? It never lasts long enough.
-
Pagbalik ko sa condo, basang-basa ako sa pawis pero hindi ko ininda.
I peeled off my gloves, dropped my helmet on the marble countertop, and poured myself a glass of sparkling water from the fridge.
No lemon. No ice. Just clean.
My phone buzzed.
Group chat with my parents and legal.
DAD: "Saw the presscon. You were stiff again. Relax your face next time."
MOM: "Fix your posture. You look shorter beside Calix."
LEGAL: "GMA sent the talent fee breakdown. Attaching copy for your signature."
No "good job." No "you did well."
I closed the app without replying.
Tumahimik ulit ang unit ko.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
Overlooking the whole of BGC.
High-rise silence.
Designer furniture.
White orchids in vases.
Everything elegant.
Everything cold.
I went straight to the walk-in closet, stripped down, and walked into the shower.
Hot water. Steam. Clean slate.
I leaned against the tile, forehead pressed to the marble.
I wasn't crying.
I never cry.
I don't even think i remember how.
But there was this… hollow.
This humming emptiness inside my chest.
And no amount of title, training, or luxury could mute it.
They say i'm cold.
But maybe i was just frozen too early, and never got the chance to thaw.
Thirty minutes later, naka-bihis na ulit ako. Black silk robe. Hair in a sleek bun. I was sipping espresso when may kumatok sa pinto.
Three knocks. Sharp. Tactless.
Only one person knocked like that.
I opened the door.
"Late ka," I said, staring at Calix in his hoodie and joggers.
"Sabi mo after training," he said, already stepping in.
"Training ended forty-two minutes ago."
He flopped on my couch like he owned it. "You time everything?"
"Yes."
He looked around, amused. "You really live like this?"
"What's this?"
"So sterile. Parang hindi bahay."
"I'm not interested in making things cozy for men who treat my living room like a dorm."
He gave me a look. "You know, your attitude won't win you fans."
"I'm not here to win anyone."
"Then why do you think the press follows you?"
"Because i make headlines," I said, sipping my coffee. "Even without trying."
He grinned. "Touché."
I crossed my arms. "Anong kailangan mo, Calix?"
He stood up, walked toward me, stopping just close enough to irritate me.
"Dinner daw with the board. Bukas ng gabi. Mag-prepare ka."
"I already got the invite. I'll go. Wear a suit."
He leaned in, eyes glinting.
"You really hate me, huh?"
"I don't waste emotions on you."
"Not even a little spark?"
"I'm not your candle."
"Sayang," he said, smile fading just a bit. "You were hotter when you were meaner."
I stepped back, slammed the espresso cup on the table.
"Get out."
He did.
But not before whispering on his way out—
"Next time, don't stare too long. You'll give people the wrong idea."