KEIFER POV
The moment Jare Mariano walked in, my territorial instincts hit the ceiling. I stood up so fast my chair nearly bit the floor. Mariano? My mind went straight to war mode, expecting another threat to Jay. But then the bomb dropped: He's her twin.
The relief was short-lived because Jare started acting like he owned the place—and her. When Jay went into a "murder mode" frenzy, I didn't second-guess it. I grabbed her waist, pulling her small, thrashing body against my chest. She was a literal hurricane, and I was the only thing keeping her from committing fratricide.
"Watson, let go of my sister," Jare commanded.
I didn't budge. I liked the weight of her against me too much, even if she was calling me an asshole. But then the real blow landed. Jare mentioned NYC.
My heart turned to stone. She was planning to leave? To cross the ocean and leave me behind in this mess? I felt a surge of panic so sharp it nearly choked me.
"What the fuck? You're going to NYC?!" I demanded, my voice sounding like gravel.
I watched Jare flick her forehead—a move that would have cost anyone else their hand—and realized my time was running out. Jare wasn't just here to protect her; he was here to take her away.
I looked at the back of Jay's head as she fumed. She wasn't going anywhere. Not if I had anything to say about it. Tomorrow I leave for London to end this war with my inheritance , but after hearing the word "New York," I knew one thing: I wasn't just coming back for a Queen. I was coming back to chain her to my side before she could fly away.
NYC is out of the question, Jay, I thought, my eyes darkening. You're not leaving me.
NYC. The word was like a poison in my veins. While her brother went to play errand boy, I caught her on the stairs. I didn't ask; I dragged. I hauled her into the old music room, the silence of the dust-covered instruments mocking the chaos in my chest.
When she hissed at me, calling me a son of a bitch, I didn't even flinch. I just crowded her into a corner, my shadow swallowing her whole.
"You better not leave the Philippines," I growled. It was a command, a plea, and a threat all wrapped in one.
She started screaming that I'd already made her cry, that I'd pushed her away. And then, she broke. The first tear hit her cheek, and it felt like a bullet to my heart. Seeing her cry—really cry—always destroyed my composure.
"Trust me, Jay," I whispered, my thumb trembling as I wiped her face. "Just... give me some time."
I leaned in until our foreheads touched. I needed her to understand, even if I couldn't explain the war I was about to fight in London "I'm going to London. But when I come back... you will be mine. Whether you like it or not."
I didn't wait for her to argue. I claimed her lips in a kiss that was desperate, salty with her tears, and filled with a raw possessiveness that terrified even me. I felt her small hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, and I knew—even if she hated me, she was anchored to me.
I kissed her again, deeper this time, a final seal on the promise.
"I'm going to London tomorrow," I breathed against her mouth, my heart heavy but determined. "Just wait for me, Jay."
She pushed me away and bolted, but I didn't follow. I stood in the shadows of the music room, tasting her tears on my lips. Let her go to her brother. Let her think about New York. Because when I return from London, the games end.
You're not going anywhere, wifey, I thought, my eyes darkening. I'm coming back to collect every debt—especially the ones you haven't paid me yet.
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KEIFER POV
I sat in my car, parked far enough to be invisible but close enough to see the front gate. I'd spent the last hour thinking about the mess with Aries and the look on Ella's face. People think I'm heartless because I don't give a damn about Ella's feelings for me. Maybe I am.
I waited. One hour. Two.
It was nearly midnight when I saw the front door of the Fernadez house creak open.
There she was. My little troublemaker.
She was dressed in a hoodie, looking around like a spy in a bad movie. Knowing her, she was probably sneaking out to go to the mini-market again to satisfy some midnight craving.
My heart did that annoying, heavy thud.
What am I going to do with you, Jay?
I dimmed the interior lights and watched her walk. She looked so small under the streetlamps, a tiny, defiant figure against the world. I should have been at home packing for London. I should have been sleeping. But instead, I was here, acting like her shadow because the thought of her being alone in the dark made my blood run cold.
I watched from the shadows of my car as she hopped into the mini-market. A few minutes later, she stepped back out into the cool night air, clutching a small bag of snacks like it was a buried treasure.
The look on her face was pure, childish joy. For a second, her guard was down. I couldn't help it—a small, rare smile tugged at my lips. Seeing her happy, even over something as stupid as a bag of chips, made the heavy weight in my chest lift just a little.
But that smile vanished faster than a heartbeat when a roar of an engine cut through the silence.
A motorcycle pulled up, the headlight slicing through the dark. My blood turned to ice, then immediately began to boil. Jason.
That son of a bitch just doesn't know when to quit.
The jealousy I felt wasn't just a sting; it was a physical blow to my gut. Seeing the way he pulled his bike up right beside her, watching him look at the girl who belonged to me, made the "demon" in my head wake up screaming for blood.
He didn't look like an enemy to her. He looked like someone she knew—someone who had a right to be in her space. My grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles cracked. I had just punched this guy into next week, and here he was, sniffing around my Queen again the moment I turned my back.
I stood frozen in the middle of the street, the echo of her "Go and don't come back" ringing in my ears like a death sentence. My chest actually physically hurt—a sharp, stabbing pain where she'd jabbed her finger.
I already lost her, I thought, watching her small figure disappear into her house. I haven't even boarded the plane yet, and I've already lost her.
I got back into my car, my hands shaking so badly I could barely grip the steering wheel. I didn't drive away. I couldn't. I sat there, staring up at her bedroom window until the light flickered on.
I'm a coward. She was right. I was hiding behind secrets and "London" because I didn't know how to tell her that my so called fucking family is using her to stop me from getting my inheritance.
I'm leaving to cut those strings, but all she sees is me walking away.
When my phone buzzed with her reply to the burner, I felt a flicker of hope.
From FutureMrs.Watson: Have you ever loved someone?
My heart shattered. She was asking a stranger because she couldn't ask me. She was looking for comfort from a ghost because the real man in her life had failed her tonight.
To FutureMrs.Watson:Yes. After my 2 exes, she came into my life. At first I hated her, as time went by I grew closer to her. She is my life and my everything. I would do anything for her. She is my life, my wife.
I meant it. Every word. Freya and Ella—were a mistake—but Jay-Jay? Jay-Jay was the only one who ever made my heart beat for real.
The notification popped up, and I couldn't help the dry, genuine chuckle that escaped my throat. Even when she's heartbroken and furious, she's still a firecracker. My firecracker
From FutureMrs.Watson: Asshole, if you're married and you have a 'wife,' then why the hell are you texting me and calling me your Queen?! You're a cheater too?! 🤬🤬🤬
If only you knew, Jay, I thought, my chest tightening. The only person I'm "cheating" with is the version of you in my head. I started typing, my fingers steady despite the chaos of the night.
To FutureMrs.Watson: I didn't say I was married in court, Jay-Jay. In my heart, she is already mine. But she doesn't know it yet.
I watched her silhouette through the curtain. She sat up abruptly. I could imagine her face—eyebrows scrunched, lips pouting in that way that makes me want to kiss her until she forgets her own name.
From FutureMrs.Watson: You're crazy. Seriously. Get professional help.
"I did," I whispered to the empty car. "And the doctor told me the only cure is a girl who hits like a truck and cusses like a sailor."
To FutureMrs.Watson: I am crazy. Crazy for you. 😉 Go to sleep, Queen. Black eyes don't suit you.
I felt a pang of guilt referring to her face. I knew it was red from where she'd been hit. I knew her eyes were puffy from the tears I caused. I wanted to run up those stairs, kick the door down, and hold her until the redness faded. But I was the monster in her story tonight. I had to stay in the shadows.
From FutureMrs.Watson: Who the hell are you?
The million-dollar question. I looked at the passport sitting on my passenger seat. Keifer Watson. The guy who's leaving. The guy she told to rot in London. I couldn't give her that name yet. Not while I still had to disappear.
To FutureMrs.Watson: I already told you, my queen—I'm your future. But if you want a clue… fine. I'm the only man who gets angry when someone else touches you. The only one who always finds you, no matter where you run. You should know me by now.
I sent it and watched for her reaction. I saw her move closer to the window, likely squinting at the screen, trying to solve the riddle of the man who had been stalking her heart for months.
I'm the one who broke Jason's jaw tonight for talking about you, I thought darkly. I'm the one who drags you into music rooms just to feel you breathe. I'm the one who's going to spend ten hours on a plane thinking about the saltiness of your tears.
"Know me, Jay," I murmured, watching her light finally dim. "Because when I come back, there won't be any more riddles. Just us."
I put the car in gear. I had a flight to catch. I had a kingdom to dismantle. And I had a Queen to win back.
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