Chapter 35: King of Pride: Chapter 35

On Friday morning, I arrived in California with one carry-on suitcase, a concrete block in my stomach, and no finished manuscript in hand.

I tried. I really did. But no matter how hard I pushed, I couldn’t figure out the last quarter of the book. My creativity had dried up completely, leaving a husk of discarded ideas and incomplete sentences in its wake.

Luckily, Friday was so hectic no one asked about the manuscript. My family celebrated Christmasbirthdaynewyearpalooza in chronological order, which meant I was thrown into Christmas festivities the second I landed. After I dropped my luggage off in my childhood bedroom and took a quick shower, I helped my mom and brothers make our traditional holiday feast—bibingka rice cakes, pancit bihon noodles, lechon manok spit-roasted chicken, buko pandan salad, lumpiang ubod spring rolls stuffed with shrimp, vegetables, coconut, and pork.

By , I meant chop vegetables and wash dishes. Sadly, my talent in the kitchen rivaled only my ability to run a four-minute mile for nonexistence.

Food preparations bled into the actual meal, followed by a gift exchange in which we all had to guess the presents before we opened them. It was a whirlwind of laughter, alcohol, and merriment and the last night we spent together as a family before it all went to hell.

The next morning, we crowded in the living room for my mom’s birthday, tired but upbeat. For the most part anyway.

Nerves rattled in my veins as my mother made her way through her pile of gifts. Gabriel sat next to her, handing her a new item whenever she finished oohing and aahing over the previous one.

Romero, Miguel, Felix, and I were squeezed onto the couch opposite them—Felix doodling in his sketchpad, Romero fidgeting with his watch, and Miguel sprawled wide, looking like death warmed over. He’d drank the most last night.

My lola and lolo occupied the corner. Every few minutes, my lolo would nod off and my lola would smack his arm, jerking him awake.

“Oh, this is lovely.” My mother held the hand-painted crescent moon necklace from Felix up to the light. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said easily. “I thought it would be fitting, considering it’s both your and the company’s birthday.”

Hiraya Hotels’ logo was a crescent moon and four stars, one for each Valencia child. Its twenty-fifth anniversary was at the end of the month.

Felix was adopted, but he was the most thoughtful one of us all.

“Oh, .” My mother hugged him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. She’d been best friends with Felix’s parents before their deaths, and sometimes, she overcompensated for their absence by lavishing extra care and attention on him.

Neither my brothers nor I resented them for it. We loved Felix as much as she did, and we were equally guilty of giving him special treatment. We knew what it was like to lose one parent; we couldn’t imagine losing both.

“Isabella’s is the last one,” Gabriel said, handing my mother a large, gaily wrapped box. He flicked an unreadable glance at me.

No one had mentioned the or Kai since I arrived. As a rule, we didn’t discuss negative topics during Christmas or Lunar New Year celebrations, which left today as the exception.

My nerves intensified, scraping my insides raw. I wished Kai were here, but I didn’t want my failure to taint his first meeting with my family. He had enough problems of his own to deal with, and I couldn’t always use him as a buffer. I needed to face the music on my own.

“Stop jiggling your foot,” Miguel moaned from next to me. “You’re shaking the couch and giving me a headache.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk so much sangria last night,” I said. “I think your problem, not my foot jiggling.”

He mumbled something that sounded like a curse mixed with a groan.

“Isa, this is wonderful!” My mother admired the luxe gift box I’d bought from her favorite spa resort in Palawan. It consisted of a full range of toiletries, skincare, and their signature perfume. The resort didn’t sell the box online, so I’d had to ask one of my cousins in the Philippines to buy it and ship it to me. “I’ve been meaning to buy this. I’m almost out of the perfume.”

“Perfect timing then.” I mustered a smile, praying no one asked about the gift I was supposed to give her today.

—

“Yes, it’s very nice.” Gabriel’s crisp voice interrupted my silent prayers. “But I believe Isa has another gift.”

My mother’s brow furrowed. Miguel lifted his head while my lolo cracked one eye open, roused by the prospect of drama. Seven gazes pinned me to the spot like a bug on the wall.

Saliva turned to sawdust in my mouth.

“What other gift?” A line of puzzlement dug between Romero’s brows.

“Her book that she’s been working on for the past three years.” Gabriel didn’t take his eyes off mine. “You said you’d have the complete manuscript for us today, didn’t you?”

Each heartbeat hammered so high in my throat I thought I might choke on it. My fingers curled around the edge of the couch as a bead of sweat trickled down my spine.

Part of me wanted to sink into the ground and never come back out; another part wanted to punch my brother and knock the knowing expression off his face.

“Isabella?” Gabriel prompted.

The taste of pennies flooded my tongue. “I don’t have it,” I said quietly. “It’s not finished.”

Silence fell over the room, punctuated by the chirps of birds outside the window.

Heat marched across my face in a relentless crusade. I tried to draw a deep breath, but the oxygen was too thin, my skin too tight. Shame and guilt inflated inside me, testing the seams of my composure and leaking through the cracks like stuffing through a ripped toy animal.

I’d endured the firestorm, the breakup with Easton, and the meeting with Kai’s mother, but I’d never felt smaller than I had in that moment.

“That’s okay,” Felix said, ever the peacemaker. “It’s almost finished, right?”

I gave a meek nod. I’d been stuck at for weeks, but they didn’t need to know that.

Gabriel crossed his arms. “I thought it was almost finished four months ago.”

“C’mon, man.” Miguel glared at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not being an asshole,” Gabriel said coolly. “I’m confirming what Isa told me in late September.”

Another silence encroached, heavy with apprehension.

“He’s right. I did say that. I…” Leather pressed tight against my curled fingers. “I wasn’t as close as I thought.”

I could blame a number of people and things for my failure—the tabloids, my day job, my relationship with Kai, my brother for setting the deadline. But at the end of the day, it was my fault. I was the one who didn’t have the discipline to get it done. I was the one who’d let myself get distracted by sex and parties. I was the one who’d let myself and others down over and over.

Gabriel was harsh, but he was right.

My eyes felt hot and scorched, and I was suddenly glad Kai wasn’t here. I didn’t want him to witness my spectacular implosion and realize what a mess he’d been involved with this entire time. I was part of the reason he’d lost the CEO vote, and I wasn’t worth it.

“The spa gift is enough,” my mother said, giving her eldest son a reproachful stare. “Come. Let’s eat.

.

She reassured me with a pat on the way out. Lines of worry bracketed her mouth, but she didn’t mention what just happened. After my father’s sudden death, she hated anything that disrupted our family’s harmony; I think she was afraid any argument would end up being the last words one of us said to the others.

However, the ghost of her disappointment trailed after me the rest of the afternoon and followed me out onto the patio that night, after the festivities died down and my mother and grandparents retired to their rooms.

I curled up on the bench, taking solace in the familiar give of the seat and the softness of the cushions. Motion-sensor flood lights illuminated the backyard, casting a pale yellow glow over the pool where I’d learned to swim, the treehouse where I’d hidden when I was upset, and the various nooks and crannies where my brothers and I had fought, played, and grown up together.

A wistful sense of nostalgia floated over me. I hadn’t lived here in so long, but every time I visited, it was like I’d never left.

The sliding glass door opened. “Hey.” Felix stepped out, his tall, lean form backlit by the house lights. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I hugged my knees to my chest, my chest tightening at his concerned voice. “I’m fine.”

He took the seat next to mine. He’d changed out of his nice celebration clothes and into a faded T-shirt and shorts. “You don’t sound fine.”

“It’s my allergies.”

“You don’t have allergies.”

“Know-it-all.”

Felix’s soft laugh pulled a small smile out of me.

“If this is about earlier, don’t think too much about it,” he said. “You know how Gabe is.”

“But he’s right.” Fresh pressure bloomed behind my eyes. I blinked it away, determined not to cry. I felt pathetic enough without having my nicest brother feel sorry for me. “I should’ve gotten the book done, and I didn’t. I never follow through. I don’t know why…” I tucked my knees tighter to my chest. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for me when it’s so easy for you guys.”

“Isa.” Felix fixed me with a disbelieving stare. “It’s not easy for any of us. Do you know how long it took for me to figure out what I wanted? How hard it was for Miguel to choose a specialty? Even Gabe has problems getting people to listen to him because he’s so young.”

“And Romero?”

“Oh, he’s a freak. I’m pretty sure he was born with a computer for a brain.”

Laughter melted some of the tension in my shoulders. “He’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I’m sure he will.” Felix smiled. “The point is, you’re on the right track. You’ve started your book, which is more than what a majority of the population has accomplished. It might seem like we’re quote, unquote of you, but we’re also older. We have more life experience.” He pinched my cheeks.

I batted him away with another laugh. “Don’t act like you’re so old and wise. You’re only four years older than me.”

“You can live several lifetimes in four years.” Felix leaned back and stretched out his legs. “The point is, you’re not behind. You’re still young. You have plenty of time to figure it out.”

That was what I thought when I was twenty-two and convinced I would be the next great talk show host. Now I was twenty-nine and no closer to figuring it out, whatever was.

I appreciated Felix’s attempts to reassure me, but the more we talked about it, the worse I felt. Reassurances from someone so successful sounded patronizing even when that wasn’t his intention.

“I know,” I said, more because I wanted to end the conversation than because I agreed with him. My eyes fell on his bare neck. “Where’s your necklace?”

His mentor, some woo-woo “be at one with the wave” type, gifted it to him after his first exhibition. I’d never seen Felix without it.

He scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks inexplicably red. “I, uh, lost it.”

My sisterly radar went on full alert. He was lying, but before I could probe further, the door opened again. Gabriel appeared, his backlit silhouette an ominous spill of darkness in the doorway.

Felix quickly stood. “It’s getting late, and I’m beat. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. You got this,” he added in a small whisper when he passed by me.

If by , he meant utter and total dread, then he was right.

The third, tensest silence of the day sprouted as Gabriel took Felix’s vacated seat and the door shut behind my other brother.

I tucked my hands beneath my thighs.

He tapped his fingers on the bench.

I stared at the pool.

He burned a hole in my cheek and finally spoke. “I’m trying to help you, Isa.”

“Help?” Indignation ripped the word from my throat. “How is humiliating me in front everyone going to ?”

“I didn’t humiliate you. I asked you for something you promised us.” Gabriel’s mouth thinned. “Everyone always coddled you because you’re the youngest, but you’re an adult now. Words and actions have consequences. Promises require follow-through. We’ve been patient for years while you ‘figured things’ out in New York.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Obviously, that hasn’t worked.”

Every word hit with the force and accuracy of a guided bullet. The flimsy walls of my indignation collapsed as quickly as they’d been erected, leaving me raw and exposed.

That had always been my problem, hadn’t it? I could never keep a promise to myself.

I’d vowed I would finish the book by today and I couldn’t. I’d said I would swear off men after my ex and I didn’t. I’d pledged to prioritize my job at Valhalla and, well, we all knew how turned out.

I didn’t regret getting together with Kai, but the weight of my failures carved hollows in my chest.

“You know what the clause says,” Gabriel said. “Find your passion and settle into a career by thirty, as judged by me and mom, or you forfeit your inheritance.”

That clause was the biggest hold Gabriel had over me. By the time our mom added it, he was already working for her and serving as the de facto head of the household, so it made sense to add him as judge and arbitrator.

The weight on my chest pressed heavier and heavier, squeezing tears into my eyes.

I didn’t care as much about the money. Obviously, I didn’t want to lose it, but forfeiting my inheritance meant more than giving up millions. It meant, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’d failed where everyone else had succeed.

“You don’t have to remind me,” I said quietly. “I know.”

“You have a year left. Move home. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Moving home isn’t going to change things, Gabe.” I couldn’t leave New York. Besides my family, everyone and everything I loved was there. “It’ll only make them worse.”

His mouth thinned further. “You have no accountability in New York. No one pushing you. If you stay there, you’ll never—”

“Stop.” A thousand voices crammed inside my head, fighting for attention. Mine. Gabriel’s. My parents’. Kai’s. Leonora Young and Parker and Felix and every other person I had let down in some way or another.

“Just stop.” Emotion cracked the syllables into half. “I’m not moving back. Let me figure this out on my own, okay?”

I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I couldn’t do it with Gabriel hovering over me. His judgment would crush any freedom of thought out of me.

A long pause ensued.

Then he stood, his shadow shrouding me beneath the patio lights. “It’s your choice,” he said, his tone cool with disapproval. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A second later, the door slid shut behind him, leaving me alone in the darkness and misery.