THE QUIET HEIR

PROLOGUE The heat of Laguna’s summer clung to the air as Bella dragged her last cardboard box up the stairs of the two-story apartment building in Biñan. It was a modest place—whitewashed walls, a rusted gate, and a large mango tree in the courtyard—but it was hers. Or at least, half of it. “Your roommate’s already here,” the landlady had said earlier, handing over the keys. “Quiet boy. Keeps to himself. Pays on time. You’ll get along fine.” Bella unlocked the door to Unit 2B and stepped inside. The living room was sunlit, with polished wooden floors and large windows overlooking the garden. One side was already set up: a plain wooden desk, stacks of books, and a simple mattress on the floor. Standing by the kitchen counter was a man with dark hair, sharp jawline, and eyes the color of warm amber. He wore a faded gray shirt and worn jeans, like he’d just come from working a long shift. He turned, and for a moment, neither spoke. “Hi,” Bella said, shifting the box in her arms. “I’m Ysabella Dominguez. But everyone calls me Bella.” He gave a small, polite nod. “Liam. Just Liam.” He didn’t offer a last name. She didn’t think much of it then. CHAPTER 1: WALLS BETWEEN ROOMS The first few months were a dance of silence. Bella would leave at dawn for class, return late from her part-time job at a furniture shop, and find Liam already home—either buried in textbooks or staring out the window at the trees. He never asked about her schedule, never pried into her life, yet he was always there when she needed something: a spare umbrella when it rained, a glass of water when she pulled all-nighters, or a quiet nod of encouragement when she showed him her design sketches. He was the perfect roommate—respectful, clean, and never made a mess. But there were things that didn’t add up. Once, she’d come home early and found him on the phone, his voice low and firm, nothing like the soft-spoken man she knew. “Tell the board I won’t sign off on the project until we revise the environmental impact assessment,” he’d said. “We build for people, not just profit.” When he’d seen her, he’d ended the call quickly, his expression unreadable. Another time, she’d seen a luxury car parked outside—black, sleek, worth more than everything she owned combined. A man in a tailored suit stood by the door, talking to Liam. When Liam walked back inside, he’d brushed it off: “Old friend. Needed a ride.” Bella didn’t push. She knew what it was like to keep parts of yourself hidden. One rainy evening, she sat at the dining table, staring at a letter from her university. Her scholarship was at risk—her grades were slipping because she was working too many hours. Tears blurred her vision. A mug of hot chocolate appeared beside her. She looked up. Liam stood there, his face soft. “Architecture isn’t just about drawing lines,” he said gently. “It’s about seeing the people behind them. You can’t do that if you burn yourself out.” “I have no choice,” she whispered. “If I lose this, I lose everything.” He sat across from her, folding his hands. “Your parents would be proud of how hard you’re trying. But they wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself doing it.” She froze. She’d never told him about her parents.