📜 CHAPTER 4: The Ruin of the Villareal Empire
One month after that explosive divorce, the name Adrian Villareal completely vanished from Makati’s elite circles.
Once a high-and-mighty CEO controlling the lifeblood of Villareal Prime Holdings, Adrian was now nothing but a pathetic bankrupt. Thanks to Doña Elena’s ironclad, confidential will, I had officially taken over 60% of the company shares from the divorce, plus the remaining 40% and the grand ancestral house in San Juan through a hidden private trust. Adrian and his parasitic younger brother, Julian, were kicked out of the board of directors without a single shred of mercy.
I sat in the CEO's office on the 47th floor—the exact place where Adrian's assistant had tried to bar me from entering just weeks ago. My new assistant placed a stack of files on my desk. "CEO Lucia, Adrian has sold off his last remaining real estate properties to pay off furious investors. As for Bianca..."
I took a slow sip of my coffee, raising an eyebrow. "What about her?"
"She was kicked out of the hospital by Adrian that very night. The baby was sent to a state welfare facility because Adrian, Julian, and her actual secret lover—a getaway driver who stole her money and fled—all refused custody. Right now, Bianca is frantically trying to find you."
I smiled. My pity had died three years ago.
Right then, my phone buzzed with an unknown number. The moment I answered, Bianca’s hysterical, sobbing voice echoed through the speaker: "Lucia! Please, I beg you! The baby is innocent... I was tricked! I’m standing outside the San Juan ancestral house right now. Adrian has gone completely mad, he's going to kill me! Only you can save us!"
May you like
Simultaneously, the security feed from the San Juan villa flashed onto my laptop screen. There was Bianca, kneeling in the pouring rain, clutching her baby. Behind her stood Adrian, his eyes bloodshot, reeking of alcohol, holding a heavy iron rod. He was screaming, dragging Bianca by her hair, convinced she had intentionally conspired with me to set him up.
I stood up, slipped into a tailored designer trench coat, and looked at my assistant. "Get the car. We're going to the San Juan villa. I want front-row seats to this finale."
