Obsessed ang Teacher ko Sa’kin

Chapter 14

Liyro’s POV

The sun reflected off the steel and glass of the Ferrer tower in Makati. I walked through the lobby, my hand firmly on the small of Elara’s back. She was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit—a mirror of my own authority. Gone were the vintage sweaters; I had replaced them with lines that signaled power.

"This is your new studio, Elara," I said as we entered the top floor.

It wasn't a room for painting. It was a sleek, minimalist office adjacent to mine, separated only by a wall of smart-glass.

"I don’t want you just sitting at home," I continued, leading her to a desk made of solid obsidian.

"You are now the Creative Director for the Ferrer Foundation. You will curate the image of this company. You will audit the aesthetics of our brand just as I audit the numbers."

Natingin ako sa paligid. Everything was so cold, so perfect. This wasn't a job; it was a leash. He wanted me where he could see me—even when he was in meetings, even when he was closing deals. Through the glass wall, I could see his desk. He was literally building a cage made of glass so he could watch me every second of the day.

"Liyro, hindi ako negosyante. I’m an artist," bulong ko.

"You were an artist," he corrected, leaning over the desk, his scent surrounding me.

"Now, you are a Ferrer. And a Ferrer always leads."

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear in a way that made my stomach flip—a reminder of the night before. "And don't worry, Elara. I’ve installed a private suite behind that door. For when we need to take a break from the 'public' side of our marriage."

Elara’s POV

The night air of Manila was thick with humidity and the smell of wealth. As we stepped out of the limousine at the Metropolitan Museum, the camera flashes were blinding. I clung to Liyro’s arm, my knuckles white.

I was wearing a gown of blood-red velvet, backless and daring—a silent scream of my status. I felt like a masterpiece on display, a stolen treasure that Liyro was finally showing to the world.

"Head up, Elara," Liyro whispered. "The world is watching."

We entered the grand hall, and the sea of guests parted like the Red Sea. But then, I saw them.

Standing near the center of the room was Julián.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand. He looked different. The dirt under his fingernails was gone. He was wearing a tuxedo that probably cost as much as my old tuition. Beside him was Sofia Zobel-Villarreal—the woman from the magazine. She was radiant, her hand tucked into his arm as if he had belonged to her his entire life.

Julián’s eyes met mine. For a split second, I saw the ghost of the boy from Cubao. I saw the pain, the betrayal, and then—the iron. He looked away, his jaw tightening.

Liyro’s POV

I felt the tension in Elara’s body. I felt her heart skip a beat. I didn't mind. I wanted her to see him. I wanted her to see how easily he had stepped into the role of the tycoon's son.

"Julián," I said, my voice smooth and projecting across the small circle that had formed around us.

"Congratulations on the engagement. Sofia is a remarkable choice for the Valerius legacy."

Julián turned, his eyes landing on me with a cold, calculated hatred. He didn't look at Elara directly, but I could feel his awareness of her.

"Ferrer. I see you’ve brought your... student."

"My wife," I corrected, pulling Elara closer, my fingers splaying across the bare skin of her back.

"Mrs. Elara Ferrer. I believe you remember her."

"Nice to see you again, Elara," Sofia said, her voice like honey and glass. She didn't know the truth—or maybe she did and didn't care.

"Julián has told me so much about your... scholarship."

"Congratulations on your wedding, Sofia," I forced myself to say. My voice was steady, but inside, I was crumbling.

Julián finally looked at me. His eyes were no longer full of the warmth I used to find in that small apartment. They were empty.

"Happiness looks expensive on you, Elara," he said, his voice a low, bitter rasp.

"I hope it was worth the price."

Liyro’s POV

I smiled. It was the perfect victory. I led Elara away, but not before I leaned down to kiss her temple, a public claim that silenced the whispers in the room.

"See, Elara?" I whispered as we moved toward the balcony.

"He’s already forgotten the 'beautiful struggle.' He’s one of us now. But you... you belong only to me."

We stood on the balcony, the Manila skyline glittering below us. Liyro pulled me into the shadows, his hands finding the curves of my body beneath the velvet. The erotic tension was back, fueled by the adrenaline of the confrontation.

"Tell me you saw it," he hissed, his mouth finding the hollow of my throat.

"Tell me you saw that he’s nothing compared to what I’ve given you."

"I saw it," I whispered, my tears finally falling.

I was weak. I was drained. And as his mouth claimed mine in the dark of the balcony, while the music played and the man I once loved stood just a few feet away, I realized that I was no longer fighting.

The audit was over. The takeover was complete. I wasn't an artist anymore. I was a Ferrer. And in this world of glass and steel, there was only room for one master.