The CEO’s Secret Heir

If someone told me years ago that I’d be working in a sleek corporate building, wearing heels I bought on sale, trying to act like I belonged — I would’ve laughed. I was never meant for this life. I was supposed to be somewhere else. Maybe selling secondhand clothes online, running after toddlers, microwaving leftover rice for the fifth day in a row. But here I am. Dean, 28, mom of two, survivor of a broken past, and currently trying to ignore the fact that my boss just winked at me. Again. And not in that creepy, old-man-wearing-too-much-cologne way. No. This wink was different — subtle, confident, like he knew exactly what effect he had on me. And dammit, he did. “Dean,” he calls from his glass-walled office, voice teasing, that stupid grin already painted on his face before I even walk in. “Don’t look so serious. Baka ma-crack 'yang mukha mo.” I roll my eyes, stepping in with my clipboard. “And you don’t look too CEO-ish when you keep using dad jokes during meetings.” He chuckles. “Eh di wow. Bakit, natawa ka rin naman kagabi sa ‘Why did the scarecrow win an award?’ diba?” “Because he was outstanding in his field,” I say flatly. “Corny pa rin.” But I’m smiling. Damn it. --- It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I took this job to provide. Nothing more. No excitement, no romance, no complications. And for a while, that was enough. Seven years ago, I was just a single mom, scraping by. My ex — let’s not waste breath — left me when our second child was barely walking. Cheated. Lied. Typical. I was in survival mode. No room for love. No time for healing. Then came Chris. The most unexpected calm after the storm. Hindi siya mayaman, pero may maayos na trabaho. Marespeto. Tahimik. Tanggap ang buong pagkatao ko — pati ang mga anak ko. Hindi siya nagtanong ng mga dapat ko nang kalimutan. Hindi niya pinilit yung mga hindi ko pa kayang ibigay. He stayed. We've been together for seven years. Walang kulang. Wala rin akong dapat hanapin pa. But then came Him — my boss. --- Mr. Sebastian Reyes. CEO ng kompanyang pinasukan ko bilang project coordinator. Witty. Charming. At most of all… hindi katulad ng ini-expect ko. I was bracing for a nightmare: cold stares, unreasonable demands, and daily doses of “you’re lucky to even be here.” But what I got was a 37-year-old man in a tailored suit who knew how to use Excel and sarcasm with equal skill. He was warm. Approachable. Nakakatawa. Para bang laging may sariling stand-up comedy show sa opisina. Everyone liked him — from the interns to the janitors. He called everyone by name, remembered birthdays, and actually listened when you spoke. And doon nagsimula ang lahat — sa kakatawanan. It was harmless at first. Biroan. Tawanan. Kape sa pantry. Team lunch. Until it wasn’t. --- There was one afternoon I’ll never forget. We were the last two leaving the office. The sky was painted in that Manila sunset kind of orange, and the city buzzed below us as we walked side by side to the parking area. He asked if I wanted a ride home. I declined. He smiled and said, “Dean, alam mo bang ikaw lang ang ‘stress reliever’ ko dito?” I laughed. “Ako naman, ikaw ang walking red flag ko.” We laughed. Hard. But when the laughter died… there was silence. And a stare. A long one. His eyes lingered, like he wanted to say more. I held my breath. And then he looked away, jaw tightening. That was the first time I felt something shift. --- From that moment, everything became sharper. His glances during meetings. The way he said my name like it was a secret. How his jokes became personal, like he knew the corners of my mind I hadn’t shown anyone. I knew I had to draw the line. I had Chris. I had my kids. I had my life together — finally. But Mr. CEO kept pushing. Slowly. Gently. Hindi bastos. Hindi garapal. Just… present. Always. A text here. “Uwi ka na? Late na. Don’t forget to rest.” A comment there. “You’re too good for this company. Someone like you should be running things, not taking notes.” Small things. But they added up. The scariest part? I let him. --- Maybe it was the thrill. I had become used to predictability. Chris was steady. My job was routine. My kids were my world. But this — this felt like stepping into a story I never expected to star in. I should’ve stopped the late-night calls. I should’ve ignored the butterflies when he said my name. I should’ve never let myself imagine what if. But the truth? I was falling. And he was too. --- “Dean,” he said one night, after a particularly long day. We were the last ones at the office again. He was leaning against his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie undone. “You ever wonder if we met in a different life?” I blinked. “What do you mean?” “Yung wala kang sabit. Wala rin ako. Just… us.” I stared at him. “That’s a dangerous question.” He shrugged. “So is pretending nothing’s happening.” Silence. “You have a wife,” I said. The words tasted bitter. “And you have Chris,” he replied, just as bitter. We were quiet again. But our eyes said everything. --- I avoided him after that. For days. No pantry chats. No overtime. I did my job, nodded politely, and left on the dot. Chris noticed. “Pagod ka na ba sa work? Gusto mo mag-resign na?” I shook my head. “Okay lang. Marami lang talagang deadlines.” He pulled me into a hug. “Alam mo, proud ako sa’yo. Kahit anong dumating sa buhay natin, hindi ka bumitaw.” My throat tightened. I wanted to cry. Not because of guilt — but because I missed the simplicity of loving someone without complication. --- The universe, of course, had other plans. A week later, the company announced a two-day retreat — mandatory. I wanted to disappear. We ended up in a resort three hours outside Manila. Beautiful place. Mountains. Bonfire. Team-building. And him. Always him. He was careful around me. Professional. Polite. But his eyes… they betrayed him. One night, we were gathered around the bonfire. Everyone else was laughing, drinking. I stayed back, arms wrapped around myself, watching the flames. He sat beside me. “You still mad?” he asked quietly. “I’m not mad.” “Then why do you look like you hate me?” I sighed. “Because I hate how you make me feel.” He didn’t say anything for a long time. Then: “Same.” --- When the retreat ended, I thought that was it. I’d go back to my normal life. Chris. Kids. Job. Done. But things were already broken. I started checking my phone too often. Waiting for his name to pop up. I started noticing how boring Chris’s stories had become. How tired I always felt. How trapped. And I hated myself for it. One night, Sebastian texted me. "Still awake?" I stared at the message for five minutes before replying. "Yeah. Couldn’t sleep." "Me neither." Pause. "Dean… gusto lang kitang kamustahin. I know I shouldn’t." "Then don’t." "But I want to." I turned off my phone. And cried. --- I wish this story had a clean line. A clear villain. A right choice. But life isn’t like that. I love Chris. I also love… something about Sebastian. Or maybe it’s what he represents — freedom. Danger. Possibility. A version of myself I buried when I became a mom, a partner, a woman always choosing others over herself. Whatever it is, I know this: It’s not over. Not yet. And I’m terrified of what comes next.