PROJECT CHROME: CONCEALED IDENTITY

C H A P T E R O2

Meanwhile, in the Philippines...

"Wait—she's going where?" Feltesia blurted out, stunned by what her twin sister had just told her.

Feltesia Haines Torres, a well-known model in the Philippines, was not shy about her disdain for Courtney's so-called "unknown" stepsister. And now, to her disbelief, that girl was coming to the Philippines—and worse, she'd be staying in her house.

"Duh. Do I need to repeat myself?" Flare replied dryly, clearly unimpressed by her twin's reaction.

They were alike in many ways—sharp-tongued, confident, and unapologetically blunt. Feltesia sat on her plush bed, twirling a strand of her long red-brown hair—her usual nervous habit.

"Don't be such a bitch, sister of mine. I'm just shocked she has the nerve to come here. Especially knowing she's the daughter of our uncle's mistress." She emphasized the word with venom. She didn't know Zoien personally, but she already despised her. In her eyes, Zoien had destroyed a perfect family—and that was enough reason to hate her.

"Hey! Watch your mouth! You're being rude!" Flare snapped.

Thankfully, Feltesia had pulled the phone away from her ear just in time. Otherwise, her eardrum might've burst from her sister's yelling.

She sneered. "No, Flare. What did that girl feed you to make you take her side? She's the reason Courtney's life is a mess! Don't defend her! She ruined our cousin's family!"

Feltesia had always been fiercely loyal to Courtney. She had seen firsthand how broken her cousin had become after her father left. She would never forgive the girl who, in her mind, caused it all.

"You don't know anything, Felt. Just do what I told you. I'll let your insults slide this time, but if you ever say something like that in front of me again, I swear I'll wash your filthy mouth with my fist," Flare warned.

"Gosh, sis! The way you defend her—it's like I'm not even your sister anymore!" Feltesia pouted.

"Stop whining, Felt. Of course I'll defend her. She's not here to speak for herself. And I treat her like my little sister. I've known her longer than you can imagine. Like it or not, she's still your cousin. Deny it all you want, but she's part of the Mondragon family. So get your act together. If I hear you treated her badly, I'll fly back just to pull your hair out," Flare threatened.

Feltesia scowled. "Seriously? Why does she have to stay with me? Why not a hotel? Or her own condo? I'm sure Uncle can afford it. So why me?"

"Because I'll feel better knowing someone I trust is with her."

Feltesia froze. "Wait—you mean... you want me to babysit her? Wow. Do I look like a nanny to you?"

She couldn't believe it. Not only was she being forced to house the girl, now she was expected to look after her too? Great. Just great.

"Feltesia, one more complaint and I swear—" Flare's voice sharpened again.

"Fine! Ugh. Like you'd let me say no anyway. But I want something in return. This favor isn't free."

"Knew you'd cave. I'll send it over. Just take care of her, okay? Ciao!" Flare ended the call.

Feltesia raised an eyebrow, still baffled by how fiercely her sister defended that girl. And now she was getting a brand-new high-end android phone in exchange for playing host. She couldn't help but feel curious.

What kind of person was Zoien, really?

It wasn't easy to earn Flare's trust—let alone her affection. Even among their cousins, Flare kept her distance. So for her to treat Zoien like a sister... there had to be something different about her.

Feltesia rolled her eyes and muttered, "Whatever," under her breath.

She suddenly felt drained—just from the conversation. She flopped back onto her bed, arms spread wide.

Tomorrow, all her questions would be answered.

"Let's meet the devil," she whispered to herself, a wicked smirk curling on her lips.

"Hey, sleepyhead—get up!" Flare tapped Zoien's cheek, frowning at the sight of her cousin still fast asleep. The flight to the Philippines was only hours away, and yet here she was, dozing like she had all the time in the world.

Flare blinked in disbelief. How hopeless can you be? She shook Zoien's shoulder more firmly. "Zoien! Hey! Wake up!"

"Hmn?" Zoien's grey eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. "Flare? What are you doing here?"

Flare exhaled sharply and placed her hands on her hips. If Zoien hadn't just woken up, she might've smacked her. "Are you planning to sleep through your flight or actually get ready? I already prepared everything you need for your arrival in the Philippines. And of course—here." She handed over a brown envelope.

Zoien sat up on her bed and took the envelope. Inside were forged passports and IDs—documents she might not need immediately, but would definitely come in handy later, especially for her mission. She smiled as she flipped through them. Flare was truly gifted at this kind of thing. Fraudulent documents were her specialty.

"Thank you so much, Flare. And... sorry for being such a burden."

Flare gently poked her forehead. "Silly. Now get moving. I've got to go too—I have a date with Lawrence."

Zoien gave her a teasing look. "Good luck on your date!"

"Brat. Be careful, okay? And my dad wanted me to send his farewell. He said to behave and not cause any trouble. I'm off. Bye!" Flare waved and rushed out the door.

Zoien smiled as she watched her cousin leave. "Philippines, huh? Wish me luck."

She quickly got ready for her departure. Something told her she'd be staying there longer than expected. She was going to miss this place.

After loading her luggage into the car, she drove to the airport and left the vehicle in the parking area. She called the family butler to retrieve it later. Boarding the plane that would take her to the country her father once called home, she felt a mix of nerves and anticipation.

What's waiting for me in the Philippines? she wondered. She couldn't wait to find out.

But one thing weighed heavily on her mind—the Mondragon clan. She had never met them in person. Homer had kept her identity hidden from them. Only a few people knew the truth: Homer's closest friends, and of course, Don and Doña Mondragon.

To everyone else, she was nothing more than a bastard child.

But she didn't care. Even if Homer had used her as an excuse to leave his family, even if she was seen as the reason for their broken home—none of it mattered to her. She had made peace with it.

Zoien sighed and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was fast asleep for the duration of the flight.

"Don, she'll be arriving any minute now," said Butler Steve, approaching his master, who was quietly watching his wife tend to the flowers in their vast garden.

"Thank you, Steve. And the arrangements I asked for?" the Don asked, extending his teacup.

Steve poured him a fresh cup. "Already taken care of, sir. What are your next instructions?"

"I want to meet her," the Don said with a smile, taking a sip of his tea. "Cancel all my appointments tomorrow night. I want time alone with my granddaughter."

"As you wish." Steve bowed respectfully before leaving to carry out the order.

"At last, she's here," the Don murmured, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Can't wait to see that sweet pumpkin of mine."

He remembered the little girl they had visited in Italy years ago. He never imagined she would one day become the key to resolving the unfinished business his son, Homer, had left behind.

The Don glanced at his wife, Almirah, who was still watering her beloved flowers.

"I'm willing to do anything to protect our family," he whispered to the wind. "And I know Zoien and I share that same principle."

He took another sip of his favorite tea, the warmth grounding him as the winds of change began to stir.