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...
Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
The sea breeze was soft that night, warm and salted as it swept across the veranda where we sat, our plates dotted with traces of grilled prawns and buttered vegetables. Rory was halfway through her second leche flan, babbling about hermit crabs she'd seen by the shore, her laughter carrying like wind chimes over the gentle jazz from the restaurant speakers.
Then my phone vibrated.
I expected a message from Izobel or our block group chat. Instead, the name that popped up made my stomach pitch.
Jacob Madrigal: "Heard you're at Punta Fuego. Business or pleasure?"
Panic bloomed in my chest.
I didn't move. Just stared at the screen, my mind reeling.
Maven noticed instantly. "Dri? What is it?"
I slid my phone under the table. "Nothing. Just school."
But it was already too late. Maven gave me that look—not skeptical, not accusing. Just calm. Measured. The way he always got when he sensed something dangerous was about to unravel.
"Let me guess," he murmured low enough that Rory couldn't hear. "One of your cousins?"
I gave him a small nod, eyes scanning the restaurant. "Jacob. He knows I'm here."
Maven's jaw ticked, but he didn't lose his cool. He leaned back in his chair, draping an arm behind me. "How? Did someone tag you? Did I?"
I unlocked my phone and scrolled.
Rory hadn't posted anything. I hadn't either. But then I checked Maven's My Day again—a boomerang of our food clinking together in a toast. No faces. But in the background, clear as day, the Punta Fuego infinity pool glimmered under the exact lighting of the evening.
"There," I whispered, showing him. "The pool. Someone could've recognized it."
He rubbed his chin. "They're getting sharper."
I stared out into the sea, the waves now darker under the moonlight. "What if they start connecting it?"
Maven tilted his head toward me, voice soft but steady. "Then we decide what matters more: them not knowing, or us being real."
Rory glanced up from her dessert. "Is everything okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah, baby. Everything's perfect."
But inside, I was spiraling. The walls were inching closer. One picture. One flicker of a background. That's all it took.
I reached for Maven's hand under the table. He squeezed back, grounding me.
"We'll be careful," he said. "But we don't hide in fear. We hide in choice. There's a difference."
