First Temptation: The Billionaire's Game

CHAPTER 7

WHO IS ALEXANDER MADRIGAL

Alexander Madrigal wasn’t just rich.

He was untouchable.

Sa murang edad, itinayo niya ang sariling tech empire from the ground up. A visionary. Ruthless. Genius. Kaya ngayong twenty-nine siya, billionaire na siya—CEO ng Madrigal Innovations, a global tech conglomerate with holdings sa AI, defense contracts, intelligence software, crypto, security systems… even aerospace.

But the world only saw the surface.

Walang may alam sa totoong dahilan kung bakit siya laging isang hakbang sa unahan ng gobyerno, ng competitors, ng mga lihim.

Because Alexander Madrigal was always watching.

Always listening.

Always hunting.

Isa sa mga negosyo niya ang The Club—an underground luxury establishment sa Taguig. Not just any bar. Ito ang lugar kung saan dumadayo ang elite para maglibang… at magkalimot. Discreet. Sensual. Dangerous.

Dito unang dinala ni Trixie si Cassandra. Akala nila night out lang. Pero para kay Alexander? It was the beginning of something far more calculated.

Because from the moment he saw Cassandra Villareal—President’s daughter, firecracker in heels, dancing like rebellion—he knew.

She wasn’t just a girl.

She was a thread.

And Alexander Madrigal had learned long ago that one loose thread can unravel everything.

His Past Wasn't a Tragedy—It Was a Puzzle

Walang alam ang publiko sa pagkamatay ng mga magulang niya. Ang alam lang nila, aksidente. Tragic. Fast car. Stormy night.

But the truth?

Murder.

His parents—Dr. Emilio and Alondra Madrigal—were killed.

And Alexander had proof. Not enough to indict. But enough to know.

And all signs pointed to Senator Yulo.

Once a street scholar. Lumaki sa hirap. Idol ng masa.

Pero ngayon?

A monster in a tailored suit.

Yulo was more than a politician. He was a puppeteer—pulling strings from the shadows. May mga koneksyon sa black ops, sa under-the-table weapons deals, human intelligence trafficking. Corruption so deep na kahit ang Presidente hirap siyang tanggalin.

Worse?

Yulo was protected. By law. By fear. By loyalty he bought in blood and favors.

Kaya si Alexander—hindi sa korte naghanap ng hustisya.

Gumawa siya ng sarili niyang sistema.

He embedded his people.

Bribed the right hands.

Hacked the wrong ones.

And now, piece by piece, he was collecting the truth.

Every transaction.

Every leak.

Every face na may koneksyon kay Yulo.

He didn’t just want justice.

He wanted reckoning.

Dalawa na lang kami ni Monique.

After the explosion that killed our parents, our world narrowed down to blood—and survival. We buried them under a sea of lies, headlines, and carefully orchestrated cover-ups. Pero kami lang ang nakakaalam ng totoo:

Pinatay sila.

Hindi aksidente. Hindi maling timing.

It was a message.

Isang mensahe na ngayon, ako ang sumasagot—isa-isang letra, isa-isang bangungot, isa-isang ebidensyang binubuo sa ilalim ng systemang siya ring pumatay sa kanila.

I promised my sister… we will make them pay.

At the top of that list?

Senator Lucio Yulo.

He was our father’s friend once. Scholar ng Madrigal Foundation. Tinulungan ng pamilya namin noon pa lang—but in the end, he was the one who handed the dagger.

Ngayon, senador na siya. Mayaman, makapangyarihan, malinis sa papel. Pero sa ilalim? Rotten. Corrupt. Dangerous.

And I’ve dedicated my entire existence to exposing that truth.

Pero si Cassandra?

Wala siya sa plano.

I wasn't supposed to look at her twice.

That night at the club, I only saw flashes—black silk dress, dangerous hips, eyes that dared the world to say no. And when she danced, it wasn’t just movement. It was freedom.

Something I haven’t felt in years.

I told myself it was nothing.

A moment. A glitch. A fluke.

Pero hindi ko siya makalimutan.

She haunted my nights.

Infiltrated my thoughts.

At kahit ilang ulit kong sabihin sa sarili ko na distraction lang siya—hindi ko kayang paniwalaan.

Kahit alam kong peligroso.

Kahit alam kong delikado kapag nalaman niyang ako ang dahilan kung bakit siya napunta sa Batangas.

Hindi ko plinano.

Pero the moment I had the chance to place her within reach…

I took it.

CASSANDRA POV

Akala ko kapag tumagal pa ‘ko dito sa mansion ni Xan, masasanay na rin ako.

Masasanay sa tahimik.

Masasanay sa mga patakarang hindi ko sinang-ayunan.

Masasanay sa kanya.

Pero mali.

Kasi sa bawat araw na hindi kami nag-uusap…

Sa bawat gabi na iniiwasan ko siyang makita…

Mas lalo ko siyang naiisip.

At ngayon?

He’s starting to invade my dreams.

Nasa hallway ako ng mansion. Dim ang ilaw, para bang dis-oras na ng gabi. Tahimik. Ang tipo ng katahimikang hindi komportable—kundi malalim. Parang may hinihintay.

Nakapajama lang ako. Manipis na silk, kulay itim, may dulas sa balat at lamig sa hangin. Walang tsinelas. Ramdam ko ang malamig na sahig sa ilalim ng mga paa ko habang naglalakad, para bang may hinahanap.

Then I saw him.

Xan.

Nakatalikod siya, nakatayo sa harap ng floor-to-ceiling glass doors sa dulo ng hallway. Barefoot din. Suot lang ang dark shirt at lounge pants. Pero kahit nakatalikod, kahit nasa panaginip ako—kilala ko siya.

Broad shoulders. That stillness. The weight he carried, the control sa bawat kilos.

Parang may invisible string na humihila sa akin palapit.

Lumapit ako. Mabagal. Tahimik.

At pagharap niya, he wasn’t surprised. Parang alam niyang darating ako.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, boses niyang pamilyar na masyadong malapit sa laman ng loob ko.

“Hindi,” mahina kong sagot.

His eyes—dark, knowing—scanned me. Hindi siya nagsalita agad. He just stepped closer.

And closer.

Hanggang sa halos magdikit na kami. Hanggang sa maramdaman ko ang init ng katawan niya kahit may hangin sa paligid. Hanggang sa wala na akong naririnig kundi ang pagtibok ng puso ko.

His hand lifted slowly. Dahan-dahang gumuhit ang daliri niya sa panga ko, pababa sa baba, then my lips.

“You keep running,” he whispered.

My breath hitched.

“Then stop me,” I whispered back.

And he did.

He kissed me.

God—he kissed me like he owned every breath I ever took.

Walang pasakalye. Walang babala. Halik na para bang ilang buwan kaming naghintayan sa isang silid na walang hangin.

My hands gripped his shirt like lifeline.

His lips—firm, desperate, full of purpose.

His tongue claimed mine with a hunger that made me tremble.

Para kaming nahulog sa dilim at hindi na kami naghahanap ng ilaw.

“Do you want control?” he murmured against my lips, voice husky, dangerous.

“You can take it…”

Pero ako?

Hindi ko alam kung gusto kong kunin ang kontrol…

O gusto kong ibigay lahat sa kanya.

Then—

“Cassie…”

Hinigpitan niya ang hawak sa bewang ko.

“Cassie…”

I woke up—gasping.

Sh*t...

My sheets were tangled around my legs, skin flushed, throat dry like I hadn’t drunk water in days.

Tumayo ako ng bahagya, pilit kinakalma ang sarili. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Pero ang utak ko? Magulo. Mainit. Mabilis.

Panaginip lang ‘yon.

Just a dream.

Pero ang problema?

Naramdaman ko siya.

Lasa ko pa ang halik niya sa labi ko kahit wala namang nangyari.

Ang bigat ng kamay niya sa bewang ko.

Ang boses niya—paulit-ulit sa tenga ko.

At ang pinakamasaklap?

I didn’t want to forget it.

I fell back sa kama, staring at the ceiling. Pumikit ako. Pero imbes na makatulog ulit, memories flooded in. Not of Xan. But of Marco.

Marco.

The boy who gave me my first—and only—kiss.

He was sweet.

Sobrang bait. Laging may dalang milk tea. Laging handang maghintay kahit late ako sa date namin. Laging handang ihatid kahit may exams pa siya kinabukasan.

We became a thing—briefly.

Nagtagal lang kami ng two months. Pero to be honest? I said yes to him because… gusto ko lang masabing may boyfriend ako. Para sa social media. Para sa kwento. Para sa kilig.

Pero spark? Wala.

Wala akong naramdaman.

No electricity.

No fire.

No ache.

No Xan.

At the time, I thought baka ako ang may problema. Baka ako ‘yung hindi marunong magmahal. Pero hindi—I just haven’t met anyone who made me feel everything all at once.

Not until now.

Not until this place.

Not until him.

Kaya siguro ako takot. Kasi si Marco—he tried. He gave me everything he could.

And I felt nothing.

Pero si Xan?

Wala pa siyang binibigay…

And yet, I feel everything.

[FLASHBACK – 17-year-old Cassie, backstage at a school event]

Senior year. Victory party ng graduating batch. Lahat ng seniors naka-formal attire, may red carpet sa harap ng gym, at ang garden area? Transformed into some Pinterest-worthy fairytale.

Fairy lights dangled from the trees, candles lined the stone paths, at may buffet table na punong-puno ng desserts, sushi rolls, and gourmet pasta. Courtesy of the Villarreal family sponsorship. Salamat kay Daddy.

Ako?

In full glam. Red satin dress na sobrang hapit sa bewang, hair in soft curls, makeup done by a celebrity artist na dinala ni Mommy. I looked like I belonged in a debut magazine spread.

Heels ko? Masakit na after just an hour of standing.

Pero worth it daw, sabi ng lahat. Kasi once-in-a-lifetime.

Marco?

He was the golden boy that night. Team captain. Valedictorian. The safe bet. Yung tipo ng lalaking gustong gusto ng mga tita sa parties.

“Tingnan mo ‘yang si Marco, ang sipag mag-aral.”

“Ang galing pa mag-basketball!”

“Cassie, baka naman siya na ang future mo, iha?” Insert pabulong na tawa.

To be honest, it was easy to say yes when he asked me out.

Walang drama. Walang grand gesture.

Just one afternoon habang naghihintay kami sa org room, he said, “Gusto mo bang maging tayo?”

Ganun lang.

And I said yes.

Not because I felt butterflies.

But because it sounded… convenient.

Tama sa timing. Tama sa expectations. Tama sa image.

Kaya nung gabing ‘yon, habang busy ang mga classmates ko sa photobooth, Marco pulled me behind the curtains ng makeshift stage.

Doon sa backstage area ng gym, medyo madilim, medyo mainit, amoy foundation at stage lights. Nasa loob ako ng isang panaginip na… parang ayokong panindigan.

“Cassie,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” tanong ko, adjusting the strap ng dress ko.

“Can I kiss you?”

Natigilan ako.

Wala man lang lead-up. No music. No slow dancing. No 'I like you' buildup.

Just... obligation.

Parang checklist.

First dance? Check.

Victory party? Check.

Kiss sa backstage? Check.

“Uh… sure?” sagot ko, trying not to sound confused.

And then he leaned in.

His lips met mine.

But there was nothing.

No electricity.

No breath-catching moment.

No slow motion.

Walang tumigil na mundo.

Just… a soft press of lips.

Too careful. Too dry. Too polite.

Parang naghalikan lang ang dalawang taong parehas ayaw maging rude.

He pulled away slowly, smiling. “Wow. That was… something.”

Nagkunwari akong natuwa. “Yeah. It was.”

Pero sa loob-loob ko?

‘Yun na ‘yon?

Akala ko ba kapag nag-kiss ka ng first love mo, may magic? May spark? May fireworks sa utak mo?

Pero ako?

Ang na-feel ko lang was… awkward.

Like I had just submitted a homework late and got an okay grade for effort.

The next day, nagtext siya ng, “Good morning, love.”

Nagreply naman ako.

“Morning 😊”

Pero hindi ko nafeel.

He tried. God, he really tried.

He’d bring me food every lunch—minsan pa nga may post-it note. “To my muse 💖.”

He’d wait for me after every CAT practice.

He’d show up sa bahay with flowers kahit may bagyo.

He was sweet. He was constant.

Pero ako?

Nakangiti sa labas, naglalaro ng part. Pero sa loob-loob ko, parang laging may kulang.

Pag humahawak siya sa kamay ko, hindi ako kinikilig.

Pag niyayakap niya ako, I’d count the seconds para matapos.

Pag naglalakad kami sa hallway, I’d secretly wish I was alone.

One time, binilhan niya ako ng matching necklace. Sobrang proud pa siya na may “M + C” engraved sa pendant.

I wore it for exactly one day.

Then tinago ko sa drawer. Hindi ko na nasuot ulit.

Kasi kahit anong effort ang gawin ni Marco, hindi ko siya maramdaman.

Not the way I thought love should feel.

Two months later, we broke up.

No drama.

No iyakan.

Just a quiet moment sa library habang may project kaming dalawa. Tinignan ko siya. Tapos tinanong ko lang, “Are we okay?”

Nagkibit-balikat siya. “I don’t know. Are we?”

At doon ko naramdaman.

Hindi kami okay.

Hindi kami magiging okay.

We were just two people who wanted the idea of each other.

Now, years later… here I am.

Stuck in a mansion.

Stuck in my head.

And haunted by a man na hindi ko man lang gustong gustuhin… pero nararamdaman ko kahit ayaw ko.

Because with Marco, I felt nothing.

But with Xan?

Every glance. Every word. Every silence…

Feels like too much.

Now, years later, remembering that moment, napapikit ako.

I didn’t know what a kiss should feel like before.

But now that I’ve almost kissed Xan?

I know what it shouldn’t feel like.

It shouldn’t be forgettable.

It shouldn’t feel like you’re ticking off a checkbox.

It shouldn’t leave you wondering if you were the problem.

And maybe...

Maybe I’ve been scared of kissing again kasi baka ganun lang ulit ang maramdaman ko.

Empty.

Flat.

Dead.

Pero with Xan?

God, with Xan...

I know it won’t be empty.

I know it might destroy me.

But I also know...

It will be real.

LINGERIE FITTING – CASSANDRA POV

I wasn’t planning to model it myself.

Pero si Monique Madrigal—yes, that Monique, former fashion editor turned creative director ng Madrigal Design House, the woman who ran three major campaigns in Paris, Milan, and New York—wasn’t having it.

“Cassie, kung ayaw mong ikaw ang magsuot ng gawa mo, paano mo mararamdaman ang ugat ng disenyo mo?” she said earlier, flipping through the final sketch board of my lingerie capsule collection.

“You’re designing for a woman’s power, not her shame,” she added, leveling me with that signature Monique stare—sharp, elegant, terrifying. “The least you can do is own what you made.”

I had no choice but to agree. No one argued with Monique Madrigal and came out alive.

So here I was.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror sa design studio ng mansion, wearing the black lace corset and silk robe I had spent two weeks sewing by hand.

It clung to my skin like it belonged there. Every stitch, every panel, every tiny detail—I knew it by heart. Pero ngayon, suot ko na siya.

And it felt… dangerous.

Not scandalous. Not shameful. But powerful.

Like I had unlocked a version of myself na hindi pa sumisilip dati—someone bold, unapologetic, feminine and fierce all at once.

I half-closed the robe, leaving the corset barely peeking through. Tumagilid ako sa salamin, checking the side seams, the bust curve, the flow of the silk down my thighs.

I fixed my hair.

Inaayos ko lang ang strap sa balikat when—

Click.

The studio door opened.

Napalingon ako agad, expecting Monique. Maybe one of the assistants.

But no.

It was him.

Xan.

Standing in the doorway, tall, composed, dressed in his usual all-black—black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone, eyes dark and trained only on me.

“Sh*t,” I breathed out, scrambling to pull the robe tighter around me. “What the hell, Xan? Wala ka man lang katok?!”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

His eyes scanned me—slowly—from my flushed neck, down the line of my corseted waist, my bare thighs peeking beneath the robe… then back to my face.

His jaw clenched.

His right hand curled into a fist by his side.

“Akala ko walang tao dito,” he said finally, voice low. Controlled. Too controlled.

“Well,” I snapped, heart racing, “clearly may tao.”

Still, he didn’t leave.

“You can turn around now,” I said, waving my hand. “Or at least pretend to be polite.”

But he didn’t move.

Instead, he said, “Don’t.”

I froze. “Don’t what?”

His voice dropped.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what that’s doing to me.”

Napahawak ako sa dibdib ng robe ko, as if that would cover the tremble in my chest.

“Excuse me?”

“You know how you look right now, Cassandra.”

My name on his lips felt like a command.

I tried to laugh it off, pero ang lakas ng t***k ng puso ko.

“This is for a test fitting. Monique insisted. It’s for critique, not for—”

“For whose critique?” he interrupted, taking a step forward. “Monique’s? Or mine?”

I stepped back, but the mirror behind me had nowhere else to go.

“You’re the designer,” he continued, “and still, you picked this cut. You chose that lace. That color. That slit.”

He stopped just a few feet away, his voice husky and low. “Don’t insult me by pretending it’s not intentional.”

My hands trembled as I tightened the sash. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he said softly, eyes burning into mine. “You wear fire… and expect me not to burn?”

That one hit somewhere low in my stomach.

His gaze held mine—unmoving, unwavering.

“You’ll drive me insane one of these days,” he said, almost like a confession. Not angry. Not teasing.

Just truth.

And then—

He turned.

Walked away.

Like nothing happened.

Left me standing there in silk and lace and confusion, breathless, burning, undone.

And the worst part?

The absolute worst part?

I wanted him to look again.

And this time...

I wouldn’t stop him.