The Mo Hotel lobby was silent.
Not the usual kind of calm, but the thick, humming kind—like the air just before a thunderstorm.
Maia Hee stepped in with stilettos that echoed on marble floors. She still had that supermodel aura: red lips, designer trench, the kind of confidence bought by betrayal and broadcast fame. All eyes followed her as she walked toward the private elevator like she still owned the place.
She didn't.
But that wouldn't stop her from trying.
"Hi, Charlie," she said sweetly, barging into his office.
Charlie didn't even look up. He kept typing, calm but cold. "You don't have an appointment."
"I brought something better than a meeting," Maia smirked, tossing a small white envelope onto his desk.
He glanced at it. "What's this? A lawsuit? Another brand collab proposal where you get half my face and all the profit?"
"No," she replied. "It's proof I'm carrying your child."
Silence.
Dead. Still. Silence.
Charlie leaned back. "Try again."
Maia pouted, then feigned offense. "How dare you act like I'm lying?"
"Because I know you," he said flatly. "And because I haven't touched you in over a year."
"Artificial insemination exists, you know."
His jaw ticked. "Are you seriously that desperate?"
"No," she snapped. "I'm just reminding you that I still belong here. Not that sticky-note girl."
"Her name is Peachy."
"Exactly. A fruit. Temporary, soft, forgettable."
What Maia didn't expect was for Linsay Mo to appear in the doorway, cane tapping against tile.
"Funny," Linsay croaked. "You call her soft like it's an insult. I call it warm. Something you've never been."
Maia froze. "Lola Linsay—"
"Don't lola me. I've seen enough villains in my teleseryes to know one when I see one. You think a baby claim will give you a crown back? My dear, that tiara cracked when you broke my grandson."
Maia stiffened. "You don't know what happened between us."
"I know enough," Linsay said, walking closer. "I know he used to smile. And then he stopped. Until she arrived."
Charlie's eyes softened. He stood beside his grandmother.
"She brought you back to life," Linsay continued, eyes sharp despite age. "And now, you, Maia Hee—trying to steal oxygen that doesn't belong to you anymore—are just noise."
Later that day, Peachy found Charlie sitting on the rooftop garden of Mo Hotel, holding the white envelope.
"Should I ask?" she said gently, sitting beside him.
He handed her the envelope. Inside, a single sonogram—clearly photoshopped. Obvious to anyone not blinded by fear.
"She's not pregnant," he said. "She's panicking."
Peachy handed it back. "You're not."
Charlie turned to her. "I wanted to tell you before you heard from anyone else."
"I trust you," she replied, simple and sure.
"No doubt? No fear?"
"Fear, yes. But not of you," she smiled. "Fear na baka one day, mapagod ka."
He reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I was tired of everyone. Until you."
They stayed there, watching the sun set behind the city skyline.
Peachy leaned her head on his shoulder, Clara asleep in the carrier beside them.
"You okay?" she asked.
Charlie nodded. "I just hate that you have to deal with my mess."
"I'm not here to clean your past," Peachy replied. "I'm just here. And if that helps... then okay. But I won't fight for you to need me."
He turned, brow furrowed.
"I'll only stay," she added softly, "if you want me."
Charlie held her hand.
"I do."
Meanwhile, Maia watched the footage of them on social media—Peachy in her bubblegum pink shirt, Charlie wearing an uncharacteristic grin while cradling Clara in a café.
Maia zoomed in on Peachy's smile.
"I made you," she hissed at the screen. "You think you're the princess now? This isn't over."
But the world was done listening.
End of Chapter 19.
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