Maven and Adrianna were born on opposite sides of a century-old feud-two scions of rival dynasties steeped in pride, power, and revenge. He's fire. She's ice. Their worlds were never meant to merge, yet fate orchestrates their collision with unrelen...
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MABUHAY, INDEED
Up until now, I still don't know how to address Camilla.
How do you even address your father's mistress anyway? There's no polite guide for that. I don't know where to begin without sounding bitter or vulgar. Tita Cam? Auntie Cam? Sis? Guuurrrl? Querida?
Given everything going on in mi vida, it would've been easier if Cam—what I started calling her in my head, but would never dare say aloud—was the kind of mistress you see on TV: shrill, shady, dripping in Gucci, and desperate. But she wasn't.
Much to my frustration, Camilla was soft. Always smiling. Always flashing that smile you get after years of high-end orthodontic treatments. She reminded me of Princess Bubblegum from Adventure Time—and I wouldn't be surprised if she vomited a rainbow mid-sentence. It made me sick. I wanted to stab my eyes with a fork.
"Your Kuya told me na nagbakasyon ka right after graduation," she said sweetly.
That caught my dad's attention—briefly. He glanced my way, raising a brow as he chewed. Curious. Observing.
And I hated how much I cared.
"Yeah. Sa Monaco."
I was about to take a bite, but she was still looking at me like she expected more. I shot a look at Kuya, who just shrugged and took a sip of wine.
"With some friends," I added, forcing the words out. There was this dark cloud above me, and I could feel it settle heavier every second.
Please stop. Please just stop. I silently prayed.
"How was it?"
There she goes again. I knew what Cam was doing—trying to put me in the spotlight with some friendly small talk. Trying to prove something. Probably to herself.
"Fun," I answered flatly.
That finally got the message across. I don't like talking to you. Please stop pretending we're cool.
Camilla turned her attention back to my father, animatedly babbling about some boutique opening in Ortigas. Her mouth moved a mile a minute. My dad nodded like she was the most fascinating person alive.
His hand rested over hers.
And just like that, I gripped my fork tighter.
A sour, burning sensation clawed up my throat. I wanted to throw up.
This wasn't just any dinner. It was a "welcome back" dinner—for me. According to Camilla. How thoughtful, right? Coming from a mistress—NOT.
I rolled my eyes. A kick landed under the table—courtesy of Kuya. I scowled but focused back on chewing. Across from me sat the woman who shattered my family, and beside her, the proof of it: my half-sister.
