Crown of the Empire

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Solene's house was the opposite of mine.

The Vergara estate was marble and gold, mirrors that never reflected softness, portraits that stared down like judges. The Tan residence, by contrast, was warmth disguised as wealth. Still luxurious—high ceilings, polished wood, imported furniture—but the kind that breathed, not suffocated. The kind that felt alive because people actually lived in it, not curated for magazines.

Jules and I stepped in behind Solene, the scent of roasted duck and jasmine tea wafting through the air.

"Oh, hija!" A woman swept out from the dining hall, her arms open wide. Mrs. Solaria Tan. She was elegance personified—pearls at her neck, silk blouse gleaming—but her smile was unguarded, radiant, the kind that wrapped around you like a blanket.

She hugged Solene tightly, then her gaze fell on me.

"And this must be Mariya Elena Vergara." She clapped her hands together, delight flashing in her eyes. "So beautiful in person! No wonder Solene grew up tomboy. Who wouldn't, when their best friend looked like a goddess walking beside them every day?"

I blinked, startled, then laughed. "Oh, please—"

But Jules leaned in with a wicked grin. "Tita, you're absolutely right. I myself question my orientation whenever Mariya enters a room."

Mrs. Tan swatted him playfully. "Ay, Jules, you and your mouth. Come, hija, come sit, you must be hungry."

"Solene!" A man's voice boomed from deeper inside, followed by footsteps. Mr. Chua Tan emerged, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed simply in a linen shirt but carrying an aura of quiet authority. His handshake alone could probably settle a business deal. His eyes warmed when they landed on his daughter.

"You didn't tell us you were bringing friends," he said, though the corners of his mouth softened. His gaze flicked to me. "So this is the famous Mariya."

I inclined my head slightly, a practiced smile on my lips. "It's an honor, sir."

He studied me for a beat—not unkind, but assessing, like a banker weighing an investment. Then, to my surprise, he nodded once. "You carry yourself well. Sit. Eat."

Before I could reply, another voice cut in—smooth, teasing.

"And here I thought I was the golden child until Solene started bringing home royalty."

I turned to see a man leaning in the doorway—Solene's older brother, Solaire Tan. He looked like his father but sharper, with a grin that had probably charmed half of Manila's socialites. He wore casual clothes, but confidence clung to him like a second skin.

"Don't mind him," Solene muttered under her breath. "He thinks he's funny."

Solaire smirked. "I don't think. I know."

Then he turned his attention fully to me, his tone faux-serious. "Mariya Vergara. Finally gracing our humble home. You know, I always wondered if you were real. Solene spoke of you so much in college, I thought you were an imaginary friend."

"Imaginary friends don't pay half the bar tab," I shot back without missing a beat.

He laughed, eyes crinkling. "Sharp. I like her."

Mrs. Tan clucked her tongue. "Enough with your banter, Solaire. Let the girls sit down. Jules too, of course. You're practically family already."

"Practically?" Jules gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Tita, I was hoping to be officially adopted by now. I even have my papers ready."