"I'm going home first, hon," Sheila said casually to Martin, who was driving.
Martin glanced at her, concern flickering in his eyes.
"Are you sure? I can take you there first," he offered, smiling gently and watching her closely.
Sheila laughed and gave his shoulder a light tap.
"I need to rest. Besides, you've done enough already." She joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Oh, I see—you need some space," Martin replied, still rubbing his leg. "But don't worry, I'll come back for you."
"Stop that!" she giggled, ticklish from his touch.
Martin chuckled at her reaction.
"Anyway, I'll be back soon. Our company has another out-of-town trip lined up." He sighed. "Honestly, they can't handle things without me."
"You're so full of yourself, Martin," Sheila teased, shaking her head with a grin.
Martin smirked.
"Well, if I didn't have this much confidence, I wouldn't have won you over."
Sheila just smiled and let out a soft laugh.
As they reached her house, Sheila could see the familiar road ahead.
"This is my stop," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
"Take care," Martin told her warmly.
Before she stepped out, he pulled her in for a passionate kiss. She gently pushed him away afterward.
"Bye. Be careful on your way home," she whispered in his ear.
"Yeah," he nodded.
Sheila climbed out of the car. Martin wouldn't be picking her up again soon, since he'd be away. She waved at him as he drove off.
"Love you!" he called out before the engine roared to life.
Sheila watched his car disappear down the road, then turned and walked into her house. The helpers were already up and about, and she wasn't alone in the large home.
"Is my guest already here?" Sheila asked as she entered the living room.
"Yes, ma'am. He's in your room," one of the maids replied nervously.
Sheila turned to her, raising a brow.
"He's insisting, ma'am. He went straight to your room," the maid explained, clearly uneasy.
Sheila handed over her laundry.
"Don't disturb us." Without waiting for a response, she made her way to her room.
She opened the door—and there he was. A man, shirtless, lounging comfortably and sipping champagne. She quickly closed the door behind her.
"What took you so long, Sheila?" the man said, grinning at her. "I've missed this."
Sheila raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, don't be mad, my dear. It's been too long." He set his glass on the nightstand and walked toward her.
"Are you done playing with your toy?" Sheila asked with a sly smile.
"You know I won't stop until I get what I want," she whispered as she closed the distance between them.
A teasing smirk played on his lips.
"You're dangerous, Sheila."
"Shut up. Didn't you miss me, Justine?" she said playfully.
Without waiting, Justine kissed her. She kissed him back with equal fervor.
Justine Madrigal—her real boyfriend. Not Martin Francisco.
Sheila pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him, ready to take control.
"You're really thirsty tonight," Justine teased. "Haven't had enough water?"
"Damn it, Justine. No one satisfies me like you do," she gasped, craving his touch.
His hands moved over her body, and she arched into him. Her body remembered his every move—his touch, his rhythm.
Sheila had only one goal: to take everything from the Francisco family. Once she succeeded, she'd complicate Martin's life, destroy him, and walk away.
A soft moan escaped her lips as Justine's rough hands explored her body.
"You're already wet," he whispered smugly.
"F—Fuck," she murmured, biting her lip as his large manhood entered her. Her hands explored his body, and his moans followed.
She kissed him deeply, hungrily. He responded in kind, and when he entered her fully, she gasped.
"Damn, you're so big, Justine… so big."
Their bodies moved together in rhythm, her desire overwhelming her. This—this was what she had longed for. Not Martin. Never Martin.
"F—fuck, right there, Justine," she whispered breathlessly.
Her moans echoed in the room—something she could never release with Martin. Her body craved Justine, her true addiction.
She remembered her past—how Angely, her older sister, had lived with different men, selling her body to escape poverty. When their parents abandoned them, Angely took desperate measures to survive.
Eventually, Angely seduced a wealthy man—one who already had a family. Her greed became their survival. And Sheila followed in her footsteps.
It's hard to lose your own blood, Angely, but I get it now. Stealing someone else's man… damn, it feels good. Sheila grinned to herself.
"I'm almost there," Justine whispered.
Sheila clutched the bedsheets, breathless. Her mind went blank. All she wanted was this—pleasure, escape, power.
A wave of heat surged through her.
It's so hot, she thought, shifting under the sheets.
Justine lay beside her while she caught her breath. He stood and grabbed another glass of champagne. Both of them were naked, careless in their indulgence.
"Another round?" Justine asked with a wink.
She glanced at him and swallowed hard. She wasn't done yet.
If Angely hadn't died in that accident, maybe she'd still be dancing in the clubs with her. Maybe they'd still be running the game together.
Sheila turned her head and froze.
A woman in a white dress was watching them.
Sheila's breath caught. The woman's eyes locked with hers before turning away with a knowing smile.
And then… she vanished.