Collision of Hearts

Chapter 20

Akala ko ayos na kami.

Akala ko pagkatapos ng gabing iyon—ng mga salitang binitawan, ng mga halik at haplos na puno ng sakit at pag-ibig—ay babalik na kami sa dati. Yung kami laban sa mundo. Yung ako’t siya, buo. Matatag.

Pero mali ako.

Dahil kinabukasan pa lang, maaga na siyang umalis. Hindi man lang ako ginising. Walang halik sa noo. Walang “see you later.” Wala.

Isang sticky note lang ang iniwan niya sa bedside table:

Meeting. Shanghai. Back in four days. Take care. — D.

Four days.

Apat na araw na walang tawag. Walang mensahe. Isang beses lang nag-ping ang secure line namin — isang generic update mula sa team niya sa Singapore. No personal note. No check-in.

And when I texted, all I got was:

Busy. Will call when free.

Free?

So now I had to wait until he was free?

I tried to distract myself — by burying myself in the boardrooms of Monteverde Holdings. Pinagpatong-patong ko ang mga financial reports, binuhay ang mga dormant subsidiaries, kinastigo ang PR team para sa lukewarm recovery campaign. I pushed until everything bled into numbers, contracts, timelines, and damage control.

But no matter how much I tried to be cold, may parte pa rin ng puso ko na nananabik. Umaasang kapag pumasok ako sa silid, bigla siyang naroon. Yung pabalik-balik kong tinitingnan ang phone ko, na parang hinihila ng kaba tuwing may tumutunog.

Pero hindi siya tumawag.

At habang lumilipas ang mga araw, habang pabalik-balik siya sa Dubai, sa Singapore, sa Hong Kong, habang puro boardroom shots ng Velasquez Global Arms Summit ang laman ng feed ng mga negosyanteng kilala ko...

Nakita ko ang isang photo.

Isa lang sana.

Pero sapat na.

Damon. In Shanghai. Naka-black suit, walang tie. Standing beside two Chinese diplomats... and a Brazilian tech heiress named Sofia Carvalho.

Sofia — with her glossy hair, legs for days, and an unapologetically flirty gaze as she smiled up at him like she wanted to undress him in public.

His hand wasn’t touching her.

But his body was angled slightly toward her. Just enough.

And I knew that stance.

That was the stance he used when he was aware of someone’s interest — but didn’t stop it.

My stomach clenched.

My jaw tightened.

And the worst part?

I couldn’t say anything.

Because I told him I wasn’t ready. I told him I needed space. I said no to forever.

So what right did I have now, to ask for more?

That night, I sat alone in the master bedroom of the Forbes Park mansion.

Still wearing my robe. Still holding my phone.

And for the first time in weeks… I cried.

Not because he lied.

But because he didn’t.

Because maybe, just maybe… he was starting to drift.

And I couldn’t stop him.

Kung hindi ako kayang buuin ng lalaking mahal ko, babalikan ko ang mundo kung saan ako palaging panalo.

Business.

Strategy.

Control.

Doon ako nagsimula. At doon ako babalik.

I dressed sharper. Spoke colder. Moved faster. Sa bawat pag-ikot ng orasan, pinapaalala ko sa sarili ko kung sino ako bago siya dumating.

Skyra Monteverde. CEO. Heiress. Untouchable.

Sinimulan ko sa mga departments na nasira matapos ang scandal ni Elian — marketing, finance, legal. Lahat ng tauhan niyang dating kakampi, pinatawag ko sa isang pulong. Isa-isa silang tinanggal, kinwestyon, pinakitaan ng ebidensya. Walang nakaligtas.

“The age of leniency is over,” sabi ko sa board, habang ang red stilettos ko’y kumakalampag sa marble floor ng boardroom.

“We don’t negotiate with traitors. We build with warriors.”

Even the new directors — handpicked by me — couldn’t help but sit straighter when I spoke. They were afraid of me now.

At gusto ko yun.

Because fear meant respect.

And respect meant control.

At kung wala akong makokontrol sa relasyon ko kay Damon, I would damn well control everything else.

Camila, my ever-loyal assistant, noticed it first.

“Ma’am, you haven’t left the building since Monday,” bulong niya sa akin habang nasa elevator kami. “You’ve slept here three nights in a row.”

“So?” I didn’t even glance at her.

“Even machines need oil,” sabi niya, half-joking. “And maybe a heart check-up.”

“Machines don’t cry,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

But I wasn’t.

Because kahit gaano pa ako kabusy, kahit ilang contracts at restructuring plans ang matapos ko… there was always one thing I couldn’t erase:

His absence.

Damon wasn’t just gone physically. He was silent. Remote. Like a ghost who used to worship every inch of me — now nothing but a name on my secure inbox.

He would reply.

Eventually.

Laging may mga excuse:

Meetings ran late.

Just landed. Will call later.

Crisis in Jakarta. You understand.

Yes, I did.

Too much, in fact.

Because I buried myself in power so I wouldn’t feel the ache.

But power didn’t kiss me goodnight.

Power didn’t hold me while I slept.

Power didn’t burn with jealousy when another man dared to flirt with me.

Only he did that.

Only Damon.

But now… he was too far.

And I didn’t know if I’d still reach him — even if I screamed.

Nagsimula sa quick calls lang tuwing gabi. Mga three minutes. Sometimes five. Palagi niyang sinasabi, “Secure line. Speak fast.” Parang isa na lang akong meeting sa itinerary niya.

“Are you eating well?”

“Yes.”

“How’s the board?”

“Cleaned up.”

“Any threats?”

“Handled.”

“You miss me?”

“…Next question.”

Ganoon kami lately.

Dry.

Coded.

Controlled.

The fire between us had turned into static — the kind that buzzed through poor connections and broken lines. May boses siya, pero parang hindi ko maramdaman ang init niya. The way he used to breathe heavy just from hearing my voice. The way he used to say my name like a prayer. Wala na lahat ’yon.

One night, habang nasa office ako nang alas-dos ng madaling araw, nag-ring ang encrypted line ko. Only one person had access to that frequency — Damon.

Damon | Code V: Sec Line Active

01:48 AM

“Sky.”

“Mm.”

“I’m calling from a secure compound in Munich. Sorry I missed last night.”

“You always miss.”

“I know.”

(Pause.)

“I miss you.”

(Pause ulit.)

“Skyra… talk to me.”

I leaned back sa leather chair ko, looking at the city lights outside my glass window. Ang daming gustong lumabas sa bibig ko — lahat ng sakit, lahat ng tanong, lahat ng galit.

Pero isa lang ang nasabi ko.

“Stay safe, Velasquez.”

He was quiet. Then a low reply.

“Always. For you.”

And then…

Call terminated.

Just like that.

---

Even Camila began noticing the shadows under my eyes, the cracks I tried to hide.

“Ma’am,” sabi niya isang hapon habang sinusundan ako sa corridor, “wala po kayo sa mood kahit after ng news na mag-a-approve na si Senator Roque ng new infrastructure fund.”

“That’s work,” sagot ko. “Not life.”

She looked at me. Soft, concerned. “So ano po ang ‘life’ sa inyo ngayon?”

I had no answer.

Kasi si Damon ang sagot ko dati.

Pero ngayon?

He was a ghost with a satellite phone.

---

At night, I would lie alone sa king-sized bed sa mansion. My side of the bed always untouched — cool, empty, unloved.

I scrolled through my phone, watching international press clips of Damon sa Singapore, Germany, Madrid. Laging may babaeng nasa tabi niya. Investors. Diplomats. Heiresses. All smiling. All picture perfect.

But none of them had the blood on their hands like I did.

None of them had their hearts stitched back together by the man I now barely recognized.

And still… every time I saw him sa screen — powerful, in control, dangerously poised — my chest tightened.

Because I didn’t just want him back.

I wanted the version of us before the distance.

But I didn’t know if that version still existed.

Isang linggo na ulit ang lumipas.

I was in my office, reviewing logistics proposals, when Camila’s voice pierced through the intercom.

“Ma’am, you might want to check your feed.”

I frowned. “What feed?”

“Twitter. And… i********:. Trending po si Mr. Velasquez.”

Hindi ko alam kung bakit biglang bumilis ang t***k ng puso ko.

Hindi na ako nagtaka — social media had become an unofficial surveillance tool ng lahat ng taong may pangalan sa industriya. Pero iba ang naramdaman ko nang buksan ko ang phone ko.

Nasa feed ko agad ang isang larawan.

@ForbesAsiaEvents: "Power move: Velasquez Global CEO Damon Velasquez at the Singapore Gala with Clea Fontaine of ZurichTech. Two sharks. One billion-dollar whisper."

Naka-black tux si Damon. Hair slicked back. That signature cold expression na parang kaya niyang i-command ang mundo with a single glare.

Beside him, Clea Fontaine — tall, blonde, Swiss heiress na kilalang investor sa aerospace tech.

And she was laughing.

Touching his arm.

Leaning too close.

Nag-zoom in ang mata ko sa pose ng kamay niya — delicately resting over his chest like she belonged there.

What the actual hell, Damon?

Tinapik ko ang mesa ko, hindi para ipatawag si Camila — kundi para pigilan ang sarili ko sa pagbasag ng iPad sa inis.

---

That night, hindi ako mapakali.

I tried to focus on paperwork, but the headlines kept flashing in my head.

“Zurich x Velasquez in talks for Europe-Asia expansion.”

“Damon Velasquez courts new investment beauty?”

“She flew in first class. He picked her up personally.”

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I opened the secure line and typed a short message:

SKYRA: Enjoying Singapore?

DAMON: What’s wrong?

SKYRA: Ask your blonde date. Maybe she’ll answer for you.

Seen.

Walang reply.

Putang—

No.

Don’t go there, Skyra.

You’re better than this.

Pero ilang minuto pa lang, may nag-message na naman kay Camila. Isa na namang business magazine reposting Damon and Clea's photo. This time? Sa yacht.

Pilit kong pinigil ang kirot sa dibdib ko.

Pilit kong inalala lahat ng ginawa ni Damon para sa ’kin — the rescue. The rage. The love.

Pero kahit gaano ko pilit pigilan ang sarili kong maapektuhan… hindi ko matatakasan ang katotohanan.

Na habang ako’y nandito, sinusubukang buuin ang lahat ng winasak ni Elian sa Monteverde Holdings…

Si Damon?

He was out there.

Conquering the world.

Looking untouchable beside a woman who wasn’t me.

It was past midnight in Forbes Park. Tahimik ang buong mansion.

The kind of silence that amplifies the ache inside your chest.

Naka-off ang lahat ng ilaw sa hallway, tanging ang dim light sa kwarto ko ang bukas. Humiga ako sa kama, naka-robes pa rin, hindi ko na nagawang tanggalin ang make-up ko. I was too tired — not physically, but emotionally. Pagod na pagod.

My phone lit up beside me.

A notification from a business news outlet.

“Velasquez Global confirms exclusive investment talks with ZurichTech.”

Kasama ulit ang larawan nila — Damon and Clea. This time, walking side by side sa isang rooftop bar sa Geneva. Both laughing, both holding wine glasses, both dressed like cover models for Forbes Power Edition.

And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

Parang may mabigat na unan na tumabon sa dibdib ko. I sat up, pressing a palm over my sternum, trying to keep the panic from rising.

This wasn’t just business anymore.

This was about us.

About me.

I threw the phone across the bed, turned off the screen, and hugged my knees to my chest. Niyakap ko ang sarili ko — a motion so childish, but at that moment, it was the only thing I could do not to fall apart.

He said I was his world.

He said he'd burn it all down if he ever lost me.

So why did it feel like I was burning alone?

Why does loving him hurt so damn much?

I looked around the massive room — the velvet curtains, the king-sized bed, the marble floors, the art pieces I never even got to choose. Lahat ng ito, bahay niya. Buhay niya.

At ako?

I felt like an ornament. A trophy. A secret he didn’t have the time to protect.

I stood up, walked barefoot to the mirror. Hinubad ko ang robe. I stared at my reflection — bare skin, bruises pa sa hips from our last fight-fueled s*x, lips still healing from his bites.

The marks he left?

I never hated them.

Because they reminded me that at least, for a moment, I mattered.

But tonight, even those marks felt cold.

I pressed my forehead against the mirror, my breath fogging the glass.

"Skyra Monteverde," I whispered.

"You survived everything. The crash. The betrayal. The lies."

"So why… why does this hurt more?"

Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t stop them.

I let them fall.

For all the times I pretended I didn’t care.

For all the times I laughed it off when the media labeled me "the cold heiress," "the untouchable CEO," "the woman who could match Damon Velasquez blow for blow."

But no one saw this version of me.

No one knew how much I loved him.

No one knew how afraid I was that one day… he’d wake up and decide I wasn’t enough anymore.

Maybe he already had.

Maybe that day was today.

I curled up on the bed again, clutching the pillow he usually used.

His scent was fading.

And the silence in the room?

It wasn’t peaceful anymore.

It was punishment.

At hindi kp na namalayan. Nakatulog ako nong gabing iyon na may LUHA sa mga mata ko.

Pagpasok nila ng elevator, si Damon ang

Pagkasarado ng pinto, bigla siyang isinandal ni Damon sa mirrored wall.

“Do you know how beautiful you looked pretending nothing was happening while I was inside you?”

“Damon—”

“Shhh.”

Wala nang oras para sa pagtutol. Hinalikan niya ito—mainit, mapusok, parang gutom.

Ang mga kamay niya'y bumaba agad sa hita ni Skyra, nililis ang laylayan ng dress.

She gasped as he lifted her up by her thighs.

Ang init ng katawan niya'y sumabog sa hininga.

“Here?” bulong niya, habol ang hininga.

“You owe me an orgasm,” he growled.

Inangat siya ni Damon, ang likod ni Skyra ay nakadikit sa malamig na salamin.

Habang nakabukaka, bumaba ang ulo ng lalaki sa leeg niya. Kinagat. Sinupsop. Para siyang lalabasan sa foreplay pa lang.

Tinaas niya ang isang hita ng babae sa balikat niya—isang kamay nakahawak sa bewang nito, ang isa’y… pumapasok na.

"God, you're dripping," he groaned.

“Damon, someone might—”

Ding.

Tumigil ang elevator. Floor 16.

Nagulat silang dalawa. Tumunog ang pre-chime. May narinig silang tumatakbong hakbang papalapit.

Mabilis na binaba ni Damon si Skyra. Binaba niya ang palda nito. Tinuwid ang buhok. Hinalikan siya sa labi, mahina pero puno ng babala.

“Keep your face calm. Smile.”

Pagbukas ng pinto, isang hotel staff ang nakatayo — mukhang nagkamali ng pindot.

“Pasensya na po, sir—akala ko po ibang elevator 'to—”

Damon nodded coolly. “Private ride.”

Tumango ang staff. Naglakad palayo. Pagkasara ng pinto…

Boom.

Isinandal ulit ni Damon si Skyra.

“You didn’t come,” he whispered against her lips. “That’s a crime I’m fixing now.”

Habang tumataas ang elevator, nililis niya muli ang dress ni Skyra, pero this time, ang sarili niyang pantalon ay tinanggal na rin.

Skin to skin.

Lift s*x.

Standing.

Eyes locked.

Muli niyang inangat si Skyra. Tinutok. Pumasok.

Walang pasabi.

Walang pasintabi.

Buong katawan ni Skyra ang tinanggap siya.

Napakapit siya sa balikat ni Damon, nanginginig.

He began to move — small, grinding thrusts habang ang elevator ay dahan-dahang umaakyat sa 25th floor.

“M-May camera—”

“Let them watch,” sabay baon ng ulos.

She cried out — mababa, mahina — pero halatang pinipigilan.

“Damon, oh God—”

“You’re mine,” bulong niya habang nilalamas ang dibdib nito sa ilalim ng damit.

Hanggang sa hindi na niya napigilan.

Nanginig si Skyra. Nilabasan siya habang si Damon ay nakabaon pa rin.

He bit her shoulder. Deep. Possessive.

Mabilis silang nag-ayos. Si Skyra—hapo, nanginginig. Si Damon—tahimik pero may ngiting hindi maipinta.

Paglabas ng elevator, nakaabang ang kanilang butler sa suite door.

“Welcome back, Sir/Ma'am.”

Damon smirked.

“Prepare the bath. She’s had a long night.”

Morning After – Softness and Vulnerability

The sheets smelled like s*x. The air like roses and exhaustion.

Skyra slowly stirred awake.

Hubo’t hubad, nakapulupot ang hita sa katawan ni Damon.

He was already awake—watching her.

His hand was in her hair, slow, deliberate strokes.

“You didn’t run,” he murmured.

She gave a sleepy smile. “Not yet.”

“I wouldn’t let you anyway.”

Nakapikit pa si Skyra pero nararamdaman niya ang palad ni Damon na dumadaloy sa balikat niya. Dahan-dahan. Walang halong libog—puro damdamin lang.

Hinahalikan niya ang buhok nito, ang sentido.

“I don’t know how to be soft with you,” bulong ni Damon. “You bring out the worst and the best in me.”

“Then just be real. That’s enough.”

Hindi sila nagmamadali. Walang halikang mapusok. Wala munang galaw.

Nasa pagitan lang sila ng mundo—tahimik na nagmamasid, nakadikit ang balat sa balat. Pusong hubad gaya ng katawan nila.

Hanggang sa hinaplos ni Skyra ang dibdib ni Damon.

“At some point,” bulong niya, “I stopped pretending I didn’t love you.”

Tahimik si Damon.

Pagkatapos ng ilang segundo, bumulong siya.

“Good. Because I’ve always belonged to you.”

Skyra slipped on his white button-down and stepped out onto the marble balcony.

Still barefoot, still sore. But glowing.

Damon followed her out, wearing nothing but his drawstring pants.

“Planning to show off my shirt to the neighbors?” he teased.

She looked over her shoulder. “You’re the one who left bruises on my thighs.”

And that’s all it took.

Nilapitan siya ni Damon. Inikot. Idinikit sa railings ng balcony.

“Then let’s make sure the marks match.”

He yanked the shirt up. No panties underneath.

“Damon—baka may makakita—”

“I’ll be quick.”

No warning. He dropped his pants, grabbed her hips, and slid inside her from behind.

Napakapit si Skyra sa marmol ng balcony railing habang mabilis siyang binayo ni Damon. Ang init ng araw ay natatalo ng init sa pagitan nila.

“Say my name,” bulong ni Damon habang hinihila ang buhok niya paatras.

“D-Damon—s**t—”

“Louder.”

“Damon!”

The sound of skin slapping echoed through the open air.

A bird flew past. A bell rang somewhere in the city.

But all that mattered was this:

Skyra trembling, moaning, half-climbing the rail in ecstasy—

Damon behind her, nails digging into her hips, whispering,

“You want to be seen? I’ll f**k you until Paris knows you’re mine.”

She clenched. Cried out. Shuddered.

He followed.

Both of them collapsed into the balcony chair, panting.

Humihingal pa rin si Skyra, nakasandal sa dibdib ni Damon habang hawak niya ito ng mahigpit.

“Don’t tell me we’re going for round three,” she said, eyes half-closed.

He chuckled. “Too late.”

Humihingal ako, paggising. " s**t, PANAGINIP LANG PALA LAHAT." Parang totoong nangyari. At umiyak na naman ako.