Ysabel dropped the folder.

“What did you say?” she whispered, hardly able to believe what she had heard.

Leonardo was silent. There was no sign he would take back his words. His gaze was steady, as if he was accustomed to saying things that would terrify anyone — then falling silent.

“I’m not competing with my nephew,” he said. “But I will not allow you to go back to him.”

“I have no intention of going back to Marco.” Ysabel’s face warmed. “But if you think it’s just because of our past—”

“I don’t care about your past,” he cut in coldly. “What I want you to know, Ysabel, is this: I will give you everything you need.”

She bowed her head. She didn’t know whether to laugh, be annoyed, or be afraid.

“For what, sir? In exchange for what?”

Leonardo approached again, his steps slow, until she felt the warmth of his breath near her ear.

“In exchange for you.”

There was no formality or romantic courtship. No beating around the bush. No giving of flowers or chocolates. Leonardo was different. What he wanted, he took.

And now, he wanted Ysabel.

Not because she was the most beautiful. Not to spite his nephew.

He wanted her because he knew what it was like to be broken, and he saw that in Ysabel.

But Ysabel wasn’t used to this world. She wasn’t used to offers that came with conditions. She found herself asking,

“Why me, Mr. Verano?”

Leonardo remained silent.

Their eyes met. Neither blinked.

“Because I don’t want you to be wasted. And I don’t want another man to hurt you.”

“I don’t need a savior,” Ysabel replied firmly.

“I am not a savior. I own the people or things I want to take.”

“You don’t own me. I’m not something you can throw away when you’re done.”

“Not yet.”

When she went home carrying the folder, her hands still trembling, every word Leonardo had said seemed to have been etched into her mind.

“I’ll take care of you.” “In exchange for you.” “Not yet.”

She glanced at her résumé on the table. She had been to so many interviews. Some companies didn’t even call her back. Now, a company she’d thought impossible to enter had opened its door to her — not just because of her qualifications.

But because of her. Because of who she was.

‘I can’t accept that. I can’t sell myself.’

But when she heard her mother cough again from the next room, her pride slowly began to crumble.

‘This isn’t about me. It’s about them.’

The next morning, while Ysabel and her parents were eating, they heard a car. Ysabel went out to check.

A black luxury car had stopped outside their house. A man wearing black sunglasses stepped out.

“Miss Ysabel?” the driver asked.

“Yes? That’s me. Why?”

“Mr. Verano sent a car for you. He wants to talk to you.”

She hesitated. But in the end she got in. She didn’t even say goodbye to her parents.

Arriving at a private property in Tagaytay, she was greeted by the cool breeze and a paradise-like view. A modern house of glass and stone. Quiet. Far from the noise of Manila.

Leonardo was there, seated on the balcony with a glass of wine, wearing a simple gray shirt and slacks.

Not a businessman. Not intimidating.

Just a man. Simple.

“Sit,” he said when he noticed her.

She sat quietly.

“What is this, sir?”

Leonardo turned to her. For the first time, there seemed to be a trace of fatigue on his face. Or sadness. Or… loneliness? Ysabel couldn’t tell.

“Did you know my parents died in an accident?” he began.

Ysabel shook her head.

“I was only five then. From that moment, my family pushed me into the company. I had to succeed always. I had to stay away from trouble. I had to be the only Verano with no weaknesses. I had to be solid.

She remained silent.

“Until the day Marco left you… I saw you. I was at the restaurant; I saw you walking, crying. You didn’t know I was there, but I followed you to the taxi you took.”

She gasped.

“I don’t know why. But since then… I could not help watching over you.”

“I’m not doing this to manipulate you. And I’m not going to tell you I love you now, because I don’t know you well enough.”

“But I want something.”

Ysabel swallowed. She was nervous.

“For what?”

“For an agreement.”

“For...?”

“I will help you. We will take care of your mother. I will give you a job. A peaceful life for both of us.”

“And the price?”

“You. By my side. Not as a servant. Not just a woman in my bed. But to be mine, in every aspect of my life.”

Ysabel couldn’t speak, stunned by Leonardo’s words.

“Marry me, Ysabel.”