Playboy CEO of Strike Banking Jacob Shaw has everything he wants. The looks, money, women and fame but behind the success people think he has, he knew something was missing ----- it was none other than Tatiana Falcon, the one that got away.
Playboy CEO of Strike Banking Jacob Shaw has everything he wants. The looks, money, women and fame but behind the success people think he has, he knew something was missing ----- it was none other than Tatiana Falcon, the one that got away.
"There's a 70% chance that Davilla Malls will take up our offer but we need to make sure that we make that a hundred percent. We're talking billions here." Jacob said. The vice president, Andrew Zobel nodded his head.
"You're right. This could also be an advertisement for the Strike Bankings. If we have to take Mr. Davilla into golf or wherever he'd want to hangout, we have to." Drew said, chuckling a bit.
"Yeah if I need to date his daughter I would." Jacob laughed.
"You need a break, bro." Andrew grimaced. Jacob's too caught up in his work, something Andrew never thought his friend would be.
They were friends since college. Jacob was never the serious type of student. He'd party at night, skip his class, he'd even flunk school. Heck, he never thought Jacob Shaw would finish his degree but look at him now, running their family business and hustling like a mad man.
People really change.
"I would. How about we meet in Lux later, just a few drinks." Jacob wiggled his eyebrows making Andrew sigh.
"Oh right. I forgot, you're a married man with a child." Jacob patted his long time bud's shoulder. "You're a changed man since you married Rochelle. How's married life?"
Andrew Zobem smiled. "Well, it makes you eager to come home after long work. I swear, you'd rather choose coming home than partying. Why don't you find the right girl and get married, Jake?"
"Not a bad idea." Jacob smirked. "I think if the right woman comes--- which, I don't believe there is, then she'll come. Meanwhile, I'll just have fun screwing around."
Andrew shook his head. He shared the same principles with Jacob years back, that marriage is simply just bullshit, and that building an empire, partying and sleeping around is the best thing but then things began to change when he met Rochelle.
He hopes this happens to Jacob soon.
Andrew looked at his friends' ring finger and found the band he always wear. He's had it since they met. He even thought Jacob married young. Some women even thought he was married, making them back off a bit. Though, Jacob doesn't really say anything about it.
He was pulled out of reverie when Jacob stood up and put on his black coat.
"Where are you going?"
"St. Joseph's. Miana is gonna be there, prolly get mad if I don't make it."
"Alright. Say hi for me to Aunt Ingrid. By the way, Jake. About that new lawyer? When are you going to meet her? I tell you, the woman's a hot chick."
Their former lawyer, Averto Sanchez was killed in a car accident last month. He was loved by many, their company has been grieving since then. That old man has been their lawyer for years. He was a good friend of Jacob's late father.
Jacob raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know that the replacement was a she. I don't know, maybe next week? By the way Drew, is she single?"
Andrew recalled the day he met up with that gorgeous lawyer. He never spotted a ring. "Don't know, but I'm sure she's not married yet. Don't mess this up, Jake. She'll be working with us."
Jacob smirked, that same smirk every ladies out there could die for. "Well if she's hot as you say she is, she can always work me. Hey--- I'm kidding alright. I don't mix business with pleasure."
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"I thought you're not coming. I called your assistant and she said you're busy." his mother gave him a hug.
He removed his aviator shades and inserted it in the breast pocket of his coat.
"Of course I'll be here, I wouldn't miss this day. It's his death anniversary, afterall."
"If only he's here to witness all the things you've done, he could have been so proud of everything you've achieved, Jake." His mother stared at him with adoration.
The corner of his lips tugged into a bittersweet yet forced smile. "Where's Mia?"
"She's gonna be late. She's driving Jasper to the airport. He's going to Bahamas for this next movie."
Jasper was his brother-in-law, a director and TV producer. The first time he met Jasper, he never really liked him. He thought his sister shouldn't entangle herself with a celebrity because the press might hound even her but as time went on and he got to know the guy, he realized Jasper loved his sister deeply.
They fell silent after that. He doesn't know what to say or start another conversation with his mother. They aren't close--- atleast not anymore.
"How is the business, son?" Ingrid tried to engage in a conversation with her son.
"It's okay, mom." he shrugged it off. He doesn't really wanna make a conversation with his mom. Not now, or ever. Not again.
Miana's car stopped right infront of them, he relaxed, now he wouldn't endure an awkward environment with his own mother. Jake strode towards them, carrying his sleeping nephew and kissing his sister in the cheek.
"Woah, cant believe you arrived on time. It's a first."
Jacob smirked. "James seems heavier than last time." he was pertaining to his nephew, whom he hadn't seen in over a month.
"He eats so much sweets especially when Jasper's around. He's spoiled--- Hi, mommy." Miana planted a sweet kiss on her mom's cheek.
Ingrid frowned when he saw the sleeping grandson. "Here I was, so excited to see my grandson's bubbly face and he's asleep."
"He fell asleep on our way here, his eyes are swollen since he kept crying while we were at the airport to send his dad off." Miana chuckled, shaking her head a bit.
Ingrid smiled, Jacob noticed how his mother and sister looked so much alike. Even the way they smile.
They stayed for an hour, paying visit to their late father before they left to go to a restaurant, it's a tradition. They dine in their father's favorite restaurant. Jacob didn't mean to join them this time but since his sister insisted, he eventually agreed. It's not a secret he couldn't stand his mother. Even Miana knows but she still tries to patch their relationship again.
Jacob busied himself talking to his nephew.
"Uncle Jacob, you should draw me another superhero on my birthday."
He raised his eyebrow, teasing the young boy. "What do you want this time, bud?"
"This time I want Ironman. It's the theme I want for my birthday. I already told that."
Jacob smiled at the little ball of sunshine, something about seeing his nephew always made him happy. Makes him question if this bachelor life is really worth it. Jake ruffled his nephew's hair. "Alright, buddy. Ironman it is."
His nephew saluted like a soldier and beamed. "Sir yes, sir."
It was ten minutes later when the food was served. He ate so little though he's famished. He's not comfortable having his mother around. It's just that---
"I heard Strike is ranking first as the best banks in the Philippines. You're doing a very good job, Jake." Miana reached to clasp his brother's hand.
"Yeah. I wasn't expecting that. Though, I know we have the best accountants. We have the most number of branches too."
Ingrid smiled at his son. His blue eyes reminding her of his deceased husband. "And he's also the youngest CEO here in the Philippines." She praised.
He smiled only a little. Her praises are a bit too late and he's not sure if it's even genuine.
Jake cleared his throat, "Excuse me, I need to go to the rest room."
He washed his face with the cold water, wiping his face with his black handkerchief. He heaved out a sigh, reminding himself that this lunch is almost over. He doesn't have to see his mother again.
He only sees his mother once a year, not even during Christmas or her birthday. There was no need for that. He only has to endure her presence during his father's death anniversary.
Jacob's father died eight years ago. Cause of his death? Euthanasia.
Jacob fixed his clothes, using his fingers to brush up his hair, stared at the mirror and looked at his reflection before storming out of the Male's restroom.
He frozed when he looked up to see a familiar woman just outside the restaurant.
That smile...
No. No it can't be...
Oh fuck. He muttered his first cuss of the day.
It's her.
His lips parted while he looked at her, he looked like a deer caught on red lights. The woman was talking to someone on her phone and she has that huge smile on her face. Her dress that hugged her body stopped above her knee. He's not halucinating, is he?
Her face looked exactly the same just like the last time he saw her, he can still memorize her face, the contours of her body like she was some favorite song he never got tired of playing.
It's definitely her!
When the woman started to walk away, that was then he came to his senses to move his feet and follow after her. Even with those wobbly knees, he tried to get to her. He could hear his sister calling after him bur he has to take strides to get to her.
He couldn't let her slip away again. He just could not.
He looked anywhere to see she wasn't there any longer. He ran to the other side, and then the other. Tatiana wasn't there.
"Tatiana." He said under his breath, uttering her name for the first time after so many years. It still hurts so much saying her name.
Maybe it wasn't really her, maybe that was just a product of his imagination. Maybe he has gone crazy.
Maybe he's delusional.
But you saw her. It was her, Jacob! His subconscious argued.
A hand touched his shoulder, making him jump. His sister's eyes stared at him, so worried.
Jacob was trembling, he was sweaty and cold.
"Jesus, you're pale! What happened Jake? You look like you've seen a ghost. Oh god!"
A ghost from his past, yes.
"Mia..." that was the only thing he could mutter.
He wanted to shout, he wanted to cry. The young heart he buried for so long is finally out of it's grave, awake and starving.
He knew what he saw. It was Tatiana. He was so fucking sure of that.
Everything was a blur to him, he didn't get his composure back. He didn't even remember hiw he was seated back inside the restaurant. Their voices were a blur to him. He couldn't understan. He was still so in daze with what just happened.
He didn't remember their interrogations..
They left his ferrari in front of restaurant, Mia drove him back to his house promising him to have the car towed and deliver to his place. Miana was so worried about his younger brother acting so strange. It's as if he was on drugs or something, like his body was on a deep shock.
And he instantly fell asleep when his body hit the sheets. He was tired, his heart was raging.
Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.
For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost. Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal. This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline. I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war.
I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.
The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.
I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.
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