Three weeks.
Three weeks of stolen dinners at Keifer's apartment. Three weeks of late-night texts that started professional and ended with Jay threatening to operate on him if he didn't sleep. Three weeks of Percy sending daily updates to the family group chat that Jay desperately tried to ignore.
Three weeks of something that felt dangerously like happiness.
Then the world found out.
It started with a photo.
Jay leaving Keifer's building at 6am, still in the same clothes from the night before. Hair messy. Face soft. A small smile playing on her lips as she looked at her phone—probably texting him, though she'd never admit it.
The photo went viral in three hours.
SURGEON SPOTTED LEAVING WATSON'S PENTHOUSE—LOVE CONFIRMED?
BILLIONAIRE CEO'S MYSTERY WOMAN REVEALED AS PEDIATRIC PRODIGY
WHO IS JAY MARIANO? THE WOMAN WHO TAMED THE ICE KING
Jay stared at her phone in disbelief.
"I'm not a 'prodigy,'" she muttered. "I'm a doctor."
"You're both." Percy, sprawled on her couch, scrolled through his own phone. "Ooh, this one says 'Dr. Jay Mariano: The Surgeon Who Stole Watson's Heart—And Probably Saved His Life Already Knowing His Family History.' Dramatic much?"
"They make it sound like a fairy tale."
"Isn't it?"
Jay threw a pillow at him.
He caught it, grinning. "Too soon for pillow fights? Too soon for love?"
"You're insufferable."
"I'm delightful. Mom says so."
Her phone buzzed. Then again. Then again.
Unknown number: Dr. Mariano, this is Manila Bulletin. Can you confirm your relationship with Mark Keifer Watson?
Unknown number: Jay, GMA News here—any comment on the photos?
Unknown number: Hi Dr. Mariano, we'd love to interview you about your work AND your personal life!
Jay dropped the phone like it burned.
"This is a nightmare."
"This is Tuesday." Percy sat up. "What did you expect? You're dating the most eligible bachelor in the country. Of course they're going to lose their minds."
"I'm not dating. We're... spending time together."
"Jay. Babe. Love of my life. You've spent the night at his apartment seven times in three weeks. You text constantly. You smile at your phone like an idiot. That's dating."
"I don't smile like an idiot."
"You absolutely do. It's adorable. Aries is deeply disturbed by it."
Jay pressed her hands to her face.
What had she gotten into?
Keifer's phone exploded too.
But differently.
His PR team had already drafted three statements. His assistant had fielded seventeen interview requests. His board had sent cautious emails about "public perception" and "company image."
He ignored all of it.
Except one.
Dad (Keizer): Saw the photos. She's beautiful. But more importantly—is she the Mariano surgeon?
Keifer frowned.
Keifer: You know her?
Dad: Not personally. But I know her father. Jasfer Mariano. We've done business for years. He never mentioned his daughter was dating my son.
Keifer stared at the screen.
Keifer: You know Jasfer?
Dad: Known him for a decade. Good man. Sharp. His company is solid. But more importantly—his daughter. Keifer. The Mariano family isn't just wealthy. They're old money. Quiet money. The kind that doesn't make headlines because they don't want to.
Keifer processed this.
Jay never mentioned it.
Not once.
Dad: She didn't tell you?
Keifer: No.
Dad: Interesting. Most people would lead with that.
Keifer: She's not most people.
Dad: No. She's a Mariano. Which means she was raised to be private, disciplined, and humble about things others would flaunt. A pause. I like her already.
Keifer almost smiled.
Keifer: You haven't met her.
Dad: I will. Soon. Your grandfather already booked a flight.
Keifer: He what?
Dad: He's been waiting for you to show interest in someone for years. Nothing was stopping him.
Keifer pinched the bridge of his nose.
This was spiraling.
Jay's parents arrived at her apartment unannounced that evening.
Not unusual. They had keys. They'd always had keys.
But the look on her mom's face—somewhere between amused and concerned—was new.
"Mom. Dad. What—"
"We need to talk." Reycee swept in, immediately putting water on for tea. "Sit."
"I have charts—"
"The charts can wait." Jasfer settled into her small couch like he owned it. Which, technically, he'd helped her buy it, so maybe he did. "We saw the news."
"The photos?"
"Everything." Jasfer studied her. "You're dating Keifer Watson."
"Yes."
"And you didn't think to mention that his father and I have been in business together for years?"
Jay blinked. "You... what?"
"Keizer Watson. We've done three major deals together. He's a good man. Distant from his kids, but good." Jasfer tilted his head. "He didn't know about you either, apparently. Called me an hour ago asking if my daughter was the one dating his son."
Jay sat down heavily.
"I didn't know," she said quietly. "Keifer never mentioned his dad knew you. I never mentioned... I don't talk about the family money. It's not relevant."
"Not relevant?" Reycee set tea in front of her. "Anak, you grew up in a house bigger than most hotels. You went to the best schools. You never wanted for anything. That's relevant."
"To medicine? No." Jay wrapped her hands around the warm cup. "I didn't become a surgeon because of money. I became a surgeon despite it. My skills are mine. My reputation is mine. The Mariano name shouldn't matter."
Jasfer exchanged a look with Reycee.
Then he leaned forward.
"Jay. Listen to me." His voice was gentle but firm. "The Mariano name matters because it's yours. Not because of money. Because of who you are. Who we raised you to be. And hiding that—from Keifer, from the world—it's like hiding a piece of yourself."
"I'm not hiding—"
"You didn't tell him." Reycee's voice was soft. "Why?"
Jay stared at her tea.
Why?
Because she wanted him to see her. Just her. Not the family name. Not the connections. Not the old money that opened doors without trying.
"I wanted him to choose me," she whispered. "Not my family."
Jasfer's expression softened.
"Oh, anak." He reached for her hand. "He did choose you. Before he knew anything. Those photos—he's looking at you like you're the only person in the world. That's not about money. That's about you."
Reycee nodded. "And now that he knows? It won't change anything. Except maybe he'll understand you better."
Jay looked up. "You think?"
"I know." Reycee smiled. "Because I see the way you look at your phone when he texts. I haven't seen that look since... ever."
Jay's cheeks heated.
Jasfer chuckled. "Our girl's in love."
"I'm not—"
"You are. It's okay." He squeezed her hand. "Now. Call him. Tell him about the family. Before his dad tells him and it gets awkward."
Jay pulled out her phone.
Jay: We need to talk.
Keifer: About?
Jay: My family. Your dad. Apparently they know each other.
Keifer: I know. He texted.
Jay: I'm sorry I didn't tell you.
Keifer: Why didn't you?
Long pause.
Jay: I wanted you to see me. Not my name.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Keifer: I do see you. I've always seen you. The name doesn't change that.
Jay: You're not angry?
Keifer: I'm... processing. But not angry. I understand why you didn't say anything. I would've done the same.
Jay: Really?
Keifer: Really. I've spent my whole life being seen as "the Watson heir." I know what it's like to want to be just yourself.
Jay stared at the words.
He understood.
Of course he understood.
They were the same.
Jay: Your grandfather is flying in?
Keifer: Yes. And apparently my parents are discussing it. They never discuss anything together.
Jay: My parents are at my apartment right now. Being parental.
Keifer: Mine are abroad. Being distant. Want to trade?
Jay: No. Yours sound complicated.
Keifer: They are. But yours are chaos.
Jay: Lovingly chaotic.
Keifer: Same thing.
Jay: What do we do about the media?
Keifer: Ignore it. They'll get bored eventually.
Jay: Will they?
Keifer: No. But we can pretend.
Jay smiled at her phone.
Jay: Dinner tomorrow? My place. I'll cook.
Keifer: You cook?
Jay: I'm a surgeon. I can do everything.
Keifer: That's my line.
Jay: I'm borrowing it.
Keifer: Fine. Tomorrow. 7. I'll bring wine.
Jay: Bring your humility.
Keifer: Still don't own any.
Jay: I know. That's why I keep asking.
The next morning, new headlines dropped.
MARIANO HEIRESS: SURGEON JAY MARIANO COMES FROM OLD MONEY DYNASTY
WATSON AND MARIANO: A UNION OF EMPIRES?
FORGET LOVE—THIS IS A BUSINESS MERGER WAITING TO HAPPEN
Jay threw her phone across the room.
It hit the wall.
Bounced.
Survived, unfortunately.
Percy, who'd crashed on her couch again, lifted his head groggily. "What'd that phone do to you?"
"They're calling us a business merger."
"Ouch." He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Let me see."
She handed him the phone.
He scrolled. Winced. "Yikes. 'Power couple.' 'Dynasty.' 'What happens when two of the country's wealthiest families collide?'" He looked up. "This is gross."
"I know."
"They're reducing you to your last name."
"I know."
"That's disgusting."
"I KNOW."
Percy set the phone down carefully. "Jay. Look at me."
She did.
"You're not your last name. You're not your family's money. You're the best pediatric surgeon in the country. You've saved hundreds of lives. You work eighty hours a week because you care, not because you have to." He paused. "Keifer knows that. We know that. The rest of them can choke on their headlines."
Jay stared at her big brother.
He was annoying. Chaotic. Never serious.
But sometimes—rarely—he said exactly what she needed to hear.
"Thanks, Percy."
"Anytime, superstar." He grinned. "Now make me breakfast. I'm starving."
Keifer saw the headlines too.
He read each one.
Coldly.
Carefully.
Then he called his PR director.
"Fix it."
"How, sir?"
"Remind them she's a surgeon first. Her family is irrelevant. Her work is what matters." His voice was ice. "If I see one more article reducing her to a last name, I'll make sure that publication never gets another Watson interview. Ever."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up.
His grandfather, sitting across from him in the office, raised an eyebrow.
"Protective already?"
"She's not a merger. She's not a dynasty. She's Jay." Keifer's jaw tightened. "They don't get to take that from her."
His grandfather smiled slowly.
"You really love her."
Keifer didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
That night, Jay cooked.
It was... edible.
Barely.
Keifer chewed the chicken with admirable restraint.
"It's..." He searched for the right word.
"Terrible. Say it."
"I was going to say 'ambitious.'"
Jay laughed—actually laughed. "It's terrible. I know. I can perform surgery for twelve hours straight, but I can't cook chicken without drying it out."
"It has character."
"It has sawdust texture."
Keifer set down his fork. "I don't care about the chicken."
"No?"
"No." He reached across the small table, took her hand. "I care about you. Here. Cooking for me. Trying something you're not perfect at." He squeezed. "That's more impressive than surgery."
Jay blinked rapidly.
"You're going to make me cry."
"Good. You need to cry more."
"I do not—"
"You do." He stood, pulled her up, wrapped his arms around her. "You hold everything inside. Work. Worry. Fear. Let some of it out. I'll catch it."
Jay pressed her face into his chest.
And for the first time in years—maybe ever—she let herself cry.
Not because she was sad.
Because someone finally saw her.
All of her.
And stayed.