Confidential

Chapter Three

Sari balanced a mug of instant coffee in one hand and her laptop on her knees.The caffeine was weak, but it was fuel, and right now she needed clarity more than sleep.

Her search history was already a disaster. Matthew Elizalde scandal. Metroline empire. Elizalde Group lawsuit. Elysium Club BGC. Every link led to another headline, another layer of the man who’d just declared war on her family.

At first glance, Matthew Elizalde looked like every other arrogant heir she remembered from her childhood in the Philippines, expensive suit, perfect smirk, the kind of man who’d never heard the word no in his life. But the deeper she dug, the worse it got.

Born to Don Emilio Elizalde, founder of Metroline TV, and Italian socialite Luisa di Rossi-Elizalde, he was raised between Florence and Manila. He’d been in the public eye since he could walk, heir, playboy, business prodigy, scandal magnet.

Sari clicked another article.

Elizalde Group CEO Expands Empire With Elysium Group: Luxury Clubs and Restobars Across the Philippines

She leaned back, brow furrowed. “Bars. Clubs. Of course.”

The photos that followed looked like movie stills, champagne, flashing lights, red carpets, beautiful women in dresses that screamed money. The captions listed locations: BGC, Makati, Cebu, Davao, Boracay. Every place associated with him screamed exclusivity and excess.

Another article headline caught her attention.

Behind the Charmer: Matthew Elizalde’s Double Life as Business Genius and Notorious Playboy

She read silently, eyes scanning fast.

He’d inherited the Elizalde empire at thirty, turned the company around in two years, and grew it into a regional powerhouse. He was ruthless in boardrooms, magnetic in interviews, and untouchable in court. The kind of man whose smile disarmed people just long enough for him to win.

And now he was suing her father’s clinic for twenty million dollars.

Sari set her mug down, rubbing her temples. “Great. He’s powerful and petty.”

She opened another tab, financial profiles, market reports, Elizalde’s holdings. The man didn’t just own a media empire. He owned influence. Metroline TV dominated national broadcasting. Metroline Productions handled films, endorsements, events. Elysium Group controlled the country’s most elite nightlife.

And beneath all that was a reputation built on charm and danger.

The internet was full of stories. Photos of him at parties. Whispers of women. Breakups, reconciliations, gossip columns that treated his dating life like a national sport.

Sari skimmed through a quote from a business magazine interview.

“Control is everything,” Elizalde said when asked about his leadership style. “People think I play around. I don’t. I just know which risks are worth taking.”

She snorted quietly. “Sounds like something a narcissist would say.”

But even as she mocked him, a part of her was analyzing. Calculating. Trying to see what kind of person could sue a medical institution over a scandal that, realistically, he’d created himself.

She clicked a link to an op-ed.

“The Elizalde lawsuit could redefine the limits of patient confidentiality in the Philippines,” the journalist wrote. “If proven true, this case may dismantle a long-standing culture of privilege between private medical institutions and their elite clientele.”

That made her stop.Her stomach tightened.

She read the paragraph again. Slowly.

If proven true.

Did that mean the claim wasn’t impossible?

She hated herself for even considering it, but the question burrowed in anyway. What if there really was a leak? What if someone in their clinic, whether by accident or desperation, had slipped?

She shook her head, shutting the laptop for a moment.No. Her father wasn’t careless. He’d built that clinic with integrity, and Sylvia was too precise to let something like this happen.

Still, the seed of doubt lingered.

Sari reopened the laptop. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she started typing again, Elizalde lawsuit Howard Women’s & Children’s Center.

And there it was.

The headline hit like a punch to the gut.

EXCLUSIVE: Metroline CEO Files $20M Lawsuit Against Howard Women’s & Children’s Center, BGCClaims Confidential Medical Records of Former Associate, Model Lindsay Roces, Were Leaked to Media

Her eyes flicked down the page. Every bullet point felt like a blade slicing through her family’s reputation.By the time she reached the end, her coffee was ice cold.

She sat back, staring at the screen, pulse steady, mind already calculating her next move.

She didn’t know how much truth there was in the allegations, but she knew one thing: she wasn’t about to let her mother and father’s legacy collapse because of some billionaire’s bruised ego.

She closed the laptop and grabbed her phone.

Before calling the airline, she opened her contacts and found Dr. Patel, her supervisor at UCLH. Her thumb hovered over the name for a second before she hit dial.

The line clicked after two rings.

“Dr. Howard,” came Dr. Patel’s familiar, even tone. “I assume you’re calling about today’s schedule?”

Sari exhaled. “I’m calling about a leave request, actually. Family emergency. I need to go home to the Philippines. Effective immediately.”

There was a brief pause. “How serious are we talking?”

“Serious enough that I wouldn’t ask otherwise,” she replied, voice firm.

She could hear Dr. Patel sigh softly on the other end. “You’re one of our best residents, Sari. You know the protocol, maximum of four weeks, unpaid, unless extended by medical board approval.”

“I’ll take the four weeks,” she said without hesitation. “If I need more time, I’ll make it up when I return.”

“Understood.” Another pause. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” Sari said quietly.

“Then go handle what you need to. I’ll have HR process it. Just send an official email before your flight.”

“Thank you, Dr. Patel. I owe you.”

“You owe me a proper night’s sleep when you get back,” he said dryly, then hung up.

Sari let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She opened her inbox, fired off a quick formal notice to HR, and within minutes, it was done. No hesitation. No turning back.

Now, it was time for the next call.

She dialed the airline.

“Good morning, British Airways,” the operator chirped. “How may I help you today?”

“I need a one-way flight to Manila,” Sari said, her voice calm but cold. “Earliest departure.”

The operator started typing. “Certainly, ma’am. May I ask the reason for your travel?”

Sari’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a challenge.

“Business,” she said. “The kind that can’t wait.”