Wendy stood in front of the Rivera Clothing Headquarters, her breath catching in her throat. The building was made of mirrored glass and clean lines, elegant and intimidating, towering over her like the world she had only dared to dream of. The Manila heat was rising, but it was nothing compared to the nervous fire in her chest.
She smoothed the creases on her borrowed slacks and tucked in the blouse Jace had helped iron the night before. He had even walked her to the MRT station at six in the morning, carrying her small tote bag with the quiet protectiveness she had grown to rely on.
"Text me if you need anything. Even just water or company. Don't face the pressure all by yourself, okay?" he had said.
Wendy nodded, touched by his concern. "Thank you, Jace."
Now, standing at the edge of the corporate world, she took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The lobby was pristine, filled with the soft hum of glass doors opening and heels clicking on marble floors. Wendy walked past towering indoor plants and sleek reception desks until she was greeted by a young woman holding a clipboard.
"Ma. Rowena Naredo? This way, please. Mr. Rivera is expecting you."
Wendy swallowed hard as she followed her through a hallway that smelled like expensive perfume and designer coffee.
Mr. Arnulfo Rivera greeted her with a measured smile in a spacious office that overlooked the Makati skyline. He looked less intimidating today, more like a grandfather than a CEO.
"Wendy," he said, gesturing for her to sit. "I remember you from the last interview. My apologies for how rushed that was."
She nodded nervously. "It's okay, sir. I'm just thankful for this opportunity."
"We're testing a new approach. Less polish, more authenticity. You stood out, not because you were the most prepared—but because you were the most real. Let's see how far that can take you."
He handed her an access card and a folder. "You'll be temporarily assisting with a high-profile fashion campaign. There's a lot to learn. But you'll be working closely with my son."
Wendy blinked. "Your son, sir?"
A knock at the door.
And then he walked in.
Wearing a dark green button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves and a confident smile, Liam Rivera looked more like a model than the marketing head of a global clothing brand.
He raised an eyebrow when he saw her.
"Dad, is this the new intern?"
Wendy stood up abruptly. "I'm not—"
"Assistant," Arnulfo corrected. "Wendy Naredo. She'll be helping you for the upcoming event."
Liam walked over, extended a hand. "Ah, my mistake. Welcome to the fashion jungle, Wendy. Hope you brought a helmet."
She shook his hand, trying to match his gaze. "I brought something better. Work ethic."
He smirked. "Cute. We'll see how long that lasts."
The day rushed by in a blur. Wendy was buried in fabric swatches, event timelines, and supplier follow-ups. Liam moved in and out of meetings like a whirlwind—brilliant, demanding, and often infuriating. He'd bark short commands with a smirk, then flash a wink when she caught up. He was the kind of person who irritated you into doing your best.
By lunch, her head was pounding. She stepped outside to call Jace.
"How's it going?" he asked, his voice warm and grounding.
"Like a fashion hurricane. Liam is… intense. But I'm surviving."
There was a pause on the line. "Just don't let that city guy mess with your rhythm. You've worked too hard to be somebody's assistant forever."
"Jace," she said, softening. "This is just the start. I'll still be me."
"Promise me that."
"I promise."
Back inside, Wendy didn't notice that Liam had passed by the glass doors—and saw her smile, her tone, the sparkle in her eyes. And he felt something strange.
He didn't know who was on the other end of the line.
But he didn't like how it made him feel.
Later that day, Wendy was organizing design lookbooks near the sample display area when a woman in her early 40s approached her, sharp-eyed and poised in a sleek blazer.
"You must be Wendy," she said, voice cool but polite. "I'm Meriam Yulo. Liam's personal assistant."
Wendy straightened. "Yes, ma'am. It's nice to meet you."
Meriam offered a nod, eyes scanning her head to toe. "I've been with this company a long time. I've seen interns come and go. Assistants too. Some come in eager, others with agendas."
Wendy blinked, unsure how to respond.
Meriam continued, her smile never quite reaching her eyes. "Just stay focused. Liam's time is valuable. Don't let admiration turn into distraction."
Wendy smiled politely. "I'm here to do my job, ma'am. Nothing more."
"Good," Meriam said, before walking away, heels clicking.
Just as she turned the corner, Liam walked past the hallway, catching the end of the conversation. His eyes met Wendy's for a fleeting moment—curious, questioning.
And though no words passed between them, Wendy felt the air shift.
Something unspoken hung there.
And it wasn't going away.
Meriam Yulo had worked for Rivera Clothing for many years and was known for her loyalty and discipline. But behind her professional poise was a deeper story—her daughter, Ricci Dawnielle, was the same age as Wendy. A recent AB Communication graduate, Ricci was a freelance model with striking features and an aura of confidence that turned heads. She had started joining pageants and was already gaining recognition for her elegance and achievements.
Meriam often talked about Ricci with quiet pride, subtly hoping that one day her daughter would make it big in the modeling world. In her eyes, Ricci and Liam would make a perfect match—both beautiful, ambitious, and born to shine.