Chapter 01
1157 Words
AS FARRAH SAT on the plane bound for Chicago, doubts began creeping into her mind once again.
She bit her lower lip and tightly shut her eyes. Did she really make the right decision to return home?
It had been four long years since she left her homeland, and the longing for it never truly went away. Spending Christmas and New Year back in her own country felt like something she needed to experience again.
At first, she was thrilled to see and feel the magic of a white Christmas abroad. But as the years passed, she found herself missing the warmth of Christmas in Chicago. There might not be snow on Christmas, but the holiday spirit was unmistakable—the kids singing carols, the festive traditions unique to her home.
When she first moved and started studying abroad, she thought of it as the ultimate dream, a jackpot she’d been lucky to win. But she couldn’t escape the pangs of homesickness, even though there was no family waiting for her back home.
She had been living in an orphanage since she was four years old after losing both her parents in a tragic accident. With no relatives nearby, she was taken to the orphanage, where she grew up without the love and care of her biological parents.
Even so, she was well cared for at the orphanage. When she finally adjusted to her new life there, she was the one who begged not to be adopted. The idea of joining another family terrified her.
But when she finished high school, it was time to leave the orphanage and carve her own path. She needed to work hard for herself. Back then, her first goal was to save up and prove her worth to those who had bullied her in high school. She wanted to show them that she could achieve something big, that when they met again at a class reunion, she could hold her head high.
Farrah smiled wryly as she opened her eyes again. No one can look down on me now.
She had graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in the world—Harvard University—with a degree in Business. It was a course she chose not just for the career opportunities but also because of her dream to build her own business one day. Growing up with nothing but hardships fueled her ambition to aim high.
“A few more years,” she murmured. “And I’ll see all of you again.”
She had never wished ill on anyone, not even her bullies. In fact, they had been her motivation to push herself harder.
And she owed it all to someone—a person she was certain she’d never see again, not even a glimpse of him.
Farrah shook her head as memories of that man surfaced once more. How could she not think of him? No matter how much time passed, she couldn’t deny that he had played a significant role in her life.
But she knew, deep in her heart, that he was gone. In the four years that had passed, he hadn’t reached out to her even once. Surely, she had been forgotten.
Taking a deep breath, Farrah closed her eyes again, trying to calm her restless mind. She decided to sleep through the long flight, hoping that rest would help ease the turmoil within her.
**
“Chicago…” Farrah whispered softly as she finally arrived safely in the country.
Farrah was determined to make the most of her one-month stay. This was her break before stepping into the real working world. Her plan was simple: save up, and once she had enough, she would return to Chicago to start her own business.
A bright smile lit up Farrah’s beautiful face as she pushed a cart piled high with her luggage.
The suitcases were filled with gifts—presents for the children at the orphanage where she had grown up. After spending two days in Manila, she planned to head straight to the House of Hope. Naturally, the caretakers at the orphanage were also on her list of people to give gifts to.
Even now, her heart was brimming with excitement. Despite her long absence, that place would always hold a special spot on her must-visit list.
But as she stepped out of the airport, she froze in her tracks.
Several black vehicles pulled up in quick succession in front of her. Then, one by one, men in black suits got out of the cars. With their broad shoulders, imposing builds, and serious expressions, they looked like the kind of men no one would want to cross.
“She’s here, Boss,” one of the men said, speaking into an earpiece. It sounded like he was on a call.
Farrah swallowed nervously.
Were they talking about her?
No, that’s ridiculous. No one knows I’m coming back.
That’s what she told herself, but she couldn’t help but glance behind her. No one was there. A small crowd stood a little ways off, staring in her direction. The commotion caused by the black cars and the suited men had clearly drawn attention.
What am I, gold?
“Ma’am Farrah Margarette.”
Farrah nearly jumped in surprise when she heard her full name being called.
When she looked forward again, all eyes were on her. Her mouth fell open as one of the men, who seemed to be their leader, motioned for the others to grab her luggage. In a flash, her suitcases were taken off the cart and loaded into the sleek black cars now lined up in front of her.
“W-what are you doing with my stuff?” she hissed.
“Please come with us, ma’am,” the man said politely but firmly.
He opened the backseat door of one of the cars and gestured for her to get in.
“Please get in, Ma’am Farrah Margarette.”
Her full name again?
“Wait a minute. Who are you? Why are you taking my things? Is this some kind of scam? Are you planning to steal my stuff? Have some compassion—the people I’m giving those gifts to are at an orphanage!”
“Ma’am, Boss Raze asked us to pick you up. Please come with us.”
Raze?
Farrah froze at the mention of the name.
“R-Raze?” she repeated hesitantly.
The man nodded. “Raze Elizalde.”
How did Raze know she was arriving? As if he cared. She was sure he didn’t. So why did he send someone to pick her up? And how did he even know she’d be here today?
A flood of unanswered questions filled her mind. After all, she thought they had both moved on and stayed out of each other’s lives.
What is the meaning of this, Raze? Farrah wondered silently.
Who is Raze to her, anyway?
Well, Raze Elizalde was her ruthless ex-husband.
- Writer
