Objection

Chapter One

The conference room on the top floor of Ardent Lex Group’s Manila office in One Central Park looked like power distilled into glass and steel. A panoramic view of BGC stretched behind the man at the head of the table. His suit was sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes were colder than the untouched espresso in front of him.

Paul Marcus Razon didn’t just walk into rooms; he occupied them.

And right now, he was trying not to yawn.

Across from him, Michael Vergara, CEO of PrimeRise Developments, the largest real estate conglomerate in the country, was explaining his crisis with full dramatic flair.

“Some of our workers are trying to form a union. The supervisors are panicking. If this gets traction, we might lose a project or two…”

Paul nodded, expression unreadable. Internally, he was calculating how much boredom was costing him. He already saw the memo forming in his mind. Strategic delay. Divide the organizing group. Offer selective promotions. Leak dissatisfaction. Textbook tactics. Predictable. Not challenging enough to fuel even half a brain cell.

He leaned back, fingers steepled. “So, you want to stop unionization before it starts.”

Mike shifted like someone caught wanting something necessary but illegal. “Let’s say… I want to keep my projects running smoothly.”

Paul smirked faintly. “Then we’ll keep it smooth.”

Paul didn’t moralize. He solved problems, ruthlessly.

Two sharp knocks.

The glass door slid open. Alexander Almeda, founding partner, walked in. He looked calm, but Paul caught the tension in his jaw instantly.

“Paul,” Alex said, polite smile in place for the client, “sorry to interrupt, but I need a word. Urgent.”

Paul’s brow ticked up. “We’re in the middle of—”

“It’s urgent,” Alex repeated, tone leaving no room for argument.

Paul turned to Mike, smooth and unbothered. “Give me ten minutes. Don’t worry, I won’t let your empire collapse before lunch.”

Mike laughed nervously.

Paul stood, buttoned his suit jacket, and followed Alex into the hallway. His voice dropped low. “You just cost us a few million pesos worth of billable time. What’s burning?”

Alex exhaled, still composed but clearly irritated. “Jessica.”

Paul blinked. “Your fiancée?”

“She wasn’t my fiancée then,” Alex muttered. “But the clinic that handled her medical records when we were just starting is threatening to leak confidential data.”

Paul stopped walking. “Leaking her records? That’s insane. What clinic?”

“Howard Women’s and Children’s Center.”

Everything fell into place. The center was infamous in certain circles, an OB-GYN clinic used by the rich, powerful, and scandalous. The kind of place men took their mistresses to keep inconvenient problems handled.

Paul let out a slow breath, smirking. “I wondered how long it would take before this blew up. But isn’t Ruiz and Dunn handling the Elizalde lawsuit tied to that?”

Alex cleared his throat. His shoulders stiffened in that subtle way that told Paul the situation was more serious than he was letting on. “They were. The Center’s lawyer pushed for mediation, she wanted to settle quietly and avoid dragging anyone through hell. But Elizalde refused. He wants a trial.”

Paul’s interest sharpened, the first real flicker of engagement all morning. “So why drag me into this?”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “Because we’re taking over.”

Paul raised a brow. “We?”

Alex didn’t even blink. “You.”

The hallway seemed to shrink. Paul’s expression cooled, voice dropping into something harder. “You want me on a case that volatile. Who are we up against?”

Alex held his stare without flinching. “I won’t let Jessica’s name get dragged into another circus. She was already burned once when this blew up online. No leaks. No scandals. No one touches her.”

Paul nodded once. Loyalty, he understood. Protecting someone you loved was a language he spoke fluently. But something didn’t add up.

“Why me,” he asked quietly, eyes narrowing.

Alex hesitated. Not long, just enough. The silence was an answer in itself.

When he finally spoke, the words dropped like stone.

“Mariella David.”

The name hit harder than any legal blow he had ever taken.

Paul didn’t react outwardly. But inside, something metal scraped against bone.

Alex continued, voice controlled. “I need someone competent to handle this. And maybe…” he paused, letting the sentence stretch and fade, because he knew Paul understood what it meant.

They stared at each other for three steady beats. Paul finally nodded, adjusted his suit jacket, and walked back toward the conference room like a man heading into war.

So she’s the one standing across from me now.

Mariella David.

Four years ago, she walked away.

This time, she wouldn’t get to run.

Not from him. Not in court.