Not Anymore

Tangled Loyalties

The door burst open before Ansh could knock. Two women stood in the hallway, their eyes widening at the sight of him. For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Irene's face twisted with fury. "What are you doing here?" she hissed, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Her hands trembled at her sides—not from fear, but from rage barely held in check.

Ansh stepped forward, his massive frame filling the doorway. "What am *I* doing here?" His voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. "The question is what gives you the right to keep me from him after what you've done?"

"I warned warned," Irene spat, her eyes blazing. "I told you to stay away. This is none of your concern."

"None of my concern?" Ansh's laugh was harsh, mirthless. "You think I'd abandon my friend to you and muddleheaded puppet? After everything?"

Jennifer's face flushed crimson. "Who are you calling a muddle headed, you oversized—" She lunged at him, her hand arcing toward his face.

He caught her wrist mid-strike, his grip like iron. She gasped, her eyes going wide as his fingers locked around her slender wrist, immobilizing her completely. "Careful," he growled. "You're making this worse."

"Let me go, you poor, dirty peasant!" she yelled, frustration boiling within her as she struggled against his vice-like hold, yet he remained resolute.

"And you wonder why I call you a fool?" He shook his head, disdain evident in his expression as he pushed her away with surprising force, sending her tumbling onto the floor.

"Aw!" she yelped, indignation flooding her system as she scrambled to rise. "How dare you!" she shouted, eyes blazing.

Irene's fists clenched tightly at her sides as she glared at Ansh. "Where is Chris?" she demanded, her voice sharp with urgency.

Ansh steadied himself, leaning slightly against the door frame, his imposing figure blocking the entrance. "Why do you care?" he replied slowly, a challenging glint in his eyes.

"Uh? Why do I care?" she echoed, incredulous.

"Yeah, enlighten me," he shot back, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Of course I care, you muddle-headed fool! He is my, he is—" She hesitated, her voice faltering as the weight of the moment hung in the air.

"He is what? Say it! What is he?" Ansh pressed, his intensity unwavering.

"He is my husband," she finally blurted, the admission feeling heavy on her tongue.

Ansh burst into laughter, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. "Your husband? I thought you two were divorced," he scoffed, disbelief coloring his tone.

Jennifer, who had finally regained her footing, looked at Irene with confusion etched on her face. "Yeah, bestie! I thought the contract was over, that you were divorced. What the—?" Her brows knit together, uncertainty swirling around her.

Irene hesitated, clutching at a piece of her dress, her knuckles turning white. "We agreed to remarry on New Year's Eve. He is my boyfriend now," she stated, the words seeming to hang in the air, as if she were trying to solidify a reality she was still grappling with.

Ansh sniffed, slowly lifting a finger to point across the hall. "And what about him?"

The two women turned as one, their eyes following his gesture, and their expressions shifted to shock as they spotted Marlin standing a few paces away.

"Mar...Marlin?" Jennifer stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. Irene stood frozen, speechless, her eyes wide.

Marlin's silhouette cut a striking figure in the dim light, his expression tense. It became clear he had overheard their conversation and was far from pleased. He strode over, his presence commanding attention.

"What were you talking about?" he inquired, curiosity threading through his voice.

Jennifer smiled anxiously, her nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. "Why did you leave your room? I told you to rest," Irene asked, her tone a mix of concern and exasperation.

"I just noticed how worried you've been lately, so I wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied, his expression feigning concern, yet his eyes hinted at something deeper.

"Oh, So romantic of you, Mister Ko," Jennifer chimed in, her voice taking on a playful tone, like a child squealing at a crush.

Ansh couldn't help but sniff derisively as he crossed his arms, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"What is it, big guy?" Marlin sneered at him.

Ansh merely shrugged, a sardonic smile spreading across his face. "Nothing, just that you exceeded my expectations," he suggested, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jennifer retorted, her hand resting defiantly on her slim waist, eyes narrowing.

"You tell me," he shot back, his tone taunting.

"You—" she shouted, waving her finger threateningly in his direction, but hesitation held her back, clearly remembering the lesson she had learned earlier.

"Will you two cut it out?" Irene snapped, stepping forward and positioning herself beside Marlin, who instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist, offering silent support. Ansh's smile widened at the sight.

"I can't believe you're also as stupid as your friend," he jabbed, his voice tinged with mockery.

Irene's glare intensified, her cheeks flushing with anger. "What did you say? I dare you to say it again."

Ansh shrugged, the challenge hanging in the air, and without flinching, he stated defiantly, "The great Irene Walters. Heir to an empire. Queen of the business world. Manila's untouchable beauty." He paused, letting each title hang in the air before delivering the blow. "And yet you're just as pathetic as your lapdog friend. Just as blind. Just as cruel."

Irene's face went scarlet. "How dare you!" Her voice shook with barely restrained violence. "You have no idea who you're dealing with! I will destroy you for this! I'll make sure you never work again, never—"

"Chris?" A voice from inside the room—weak, strained, but unmistakable. "Who's out there?"

Irene's threats died on her lips. "Chris!" She lunged for the door.

Ansh's arm shot out, blocking her path. His hand slammed against the doorframe with a sound like a gunshot.

"Get out of my way!" she screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let me through! He needs me! Chris!"

"Does he?" Ansh's smile was cold, merciless. "Or do you need him?"

Her hands balled into fists. For a moment it seemed she might actually strike him, propriety and consequences be damned.