Crown of the Empire

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The universe clearly had a sense of humor. A cruel one.

I woke up the next morning to find my name glued to his again—splashed across every headline, every news ticker, every godforsaken push notification.

"Nikolai Takedo Lands in Manila: Takedo Pharmaceuticals Eyes Southeast Asia Expansion."

"Vergara Heiress and Pharma Kingpin: Fire vs. Ice Round Two?"

"Two Empires, One City—Will Sparks Fly or Burn?"

I wanted to throw my phone across the room. Instead, I settled for groaning into my silk pillow. "Of course. Of course he's here."

Jules, who'd decided to sleep over after last night's macaron raid, peeked from under his blanket on my couch. "Mhm. Manila just got colder. Did you feel the temperature drop?"

Solene, seated cross-legged on the floor with coffee, added dryly, "Don't act surprised. Manila's the pitstop for every empire that wants Southeast Asia. He had to come eventually."

I sat up, hair a mess, glaring at my phone. "Eventually, sure. But now? When the board is already sharpening knives for me? It's like fate has a personal vendetta."

Jules smirked. "Or a matchmaking kink."

"Shut up."

But fate didn't shut up.

By noon, I had an invitation—well, more like a royal summons disguised in cursive font. The Department of Health was hosting a high-level roundtable at the Shangri-La. Business leaders, foreign investors, government officials. And, of course, Dr. Nikolai Sebastian Takedo.

I stared at the invitation until the words blurred. My father would expect me there. The board would expect me there. Manila would expect me there.

And I'd show up. Because if I didn't, they'd say the heiress was running scared.

Fast forward to six hours later and I was stepping into Shangri-La's ballroom, draped in a navy power suit sharp enough to cut glass, heels clicking like gunfire on marble. The chandeliers dripped crystal, the tables were decked in white linens, and the air reeked of money and perfume.

The elite had gathered—senators, CEOs, foreign attachés. I saw the way their heads turned as I entered, the whispers trailing in my wake.

There she is. The Vergara girl. The firebrand. The one who dared challenge the Takedo heir.

I smiled like a shark, because that's what they came for.

And then I saw him.

Standing near the stage, speaking quietly with a DOH official, dressed in a black suit so perfectly cut it looked poured onto him. Nikolai Sebastian Takedo. Half-Russian, half-Japanese, all ice. His skin pale as porcelain, his posture straight as a blade, his gaze cool enough to make the air conditioner irrelevant.

He looked up as if he felt me watching. Our eyes locked across the room.

For a split second, the noise, the chandeliers, the whispers—everything blurred. Just fire and ice, colliding without a word.

Then his mouth curved, the faintest smirk. Infuriating.

I took my seat at the roundtable, flanked by uncles and senators, pretending I didn't feel the weight of his stare. "Hi, I am the Senate President, Kelrick Chaves, a pleasure to meet you." The man beside me offered his hand, expecting me to shake it, but I deliberately ignored him, pretending I didn't notice... He was the Philippine President's son, and I do not want to be involved with the likes of him.