Morning broke with headlines screaming her name.
“Alcaraz Heiress, Once a Beggar of Love—CCTV Scandal Rocks Political Arena.”
“Selena Alcaraz—Love-Sick Past Resurfaces Amid Vergara Clash.”
Every screen, every paper, every whisper in the streets carried the same poison: her humiliation, weaponized.
Selena sat at the long mahogany table in her campaign office, bawat adviser niya abala—phones ringing, messages flooding in, reports piling like fire. She had read the headline once, then forced herself not to look again. The shame in that video—that girl on her knees, pleading, eyes swollen—was not her anymore. Pero ngayon, naka-broadcast ito sa buong bansa.
Her jaw clenched, nails biting into her palms. Ito ang gusto nila. Ibagsak ako gamit ang nakaraan.
Across town, Damien stormed into t
