Chapter 30: 30

Chapter 30

I raised an eyebrow at Themarie when she told me not to compare myself to her and Victor.

“I passed the audition and acted fair and square,” I said, flashing her a sweet smile. I asked her pointedly, “Did you do the same, Themarie?”

“That's enough, Themarie. We're not here to fight,” Victor interjected. Themarie shut her mouth but her eyes were shooting daggers at me.

Victor let out a long sigh before turning to me. “Vladimir’s birthday is coming up,” he began.

“As part of the trial agreement, you’ll be allowed to see Vladimir and—”

“Vladimir will celebrate his birthday with us,” Fabian cut him off, and I turned to look at him.

“What?!” Victor snapped, his voice loud and angry.

“Sonia is Vladimir’s biological mother, and since the trial is still ongoing, she’s allowed to see him anytime as agreed upon,” Fabian said calmly. Victor’s fist clenched at his side.

“Maybe you’re forgetting that as long as Vladimir is still a minor, all legal rights belong to Sonia. You can’t just drag us to court with the excuse that he’s scared of her because of her face.”

Fabian draped his arm around me protectively. The bruising on one side of my face had begun to fade, and if needed, I could easily cover it up with makeup when I saw Vladimir.

“I’ll pick him up before his birthday,” Fabian added with a reassuring smile before gently guiding me and France away.

Behind us, I heard Victor curse under his breath, and Themarie slammed something in frustration. I turned to Fabian and asked how he managed to convince the court to allow me to be with my son.

“I made a promise, didn’t I? I’ll do everything to bring your son back to you,” he said, brushing my hair softly.

“Next time, you’ll have more time with him,” he added. I smiled gratefully at him. He opened the car door for me and gently placed France in the backseat.

“I want to sit beside Mom!” France complained, pouting.

I looked at Fabian and asked him to let France sit with me, but he shook his head.

“No, you’re tired,” Fabian said, pointing to France and instructing him to let me rest.

“You’re a big boy now, no more being carried around,” Fabian added.

France crossed his arms and pouted again. I turned to him and said softly, “Baby, don’t mind Dad. Come here, sit with me.” I patted my lap invitingly.

He shook his head at first, trying to act like a grown-up. “I’m a big boy now.”

“I don’t want you to grow up too fast, baby. Who will Mommy hug if you become a big boy?” I said with a chuckle.

France paused for a moment before climbing over and sitting on my lap.

When Fabian got in the driver’s seat, he gave me a pointed look.

“Don’t you think you’re spoiling him too much?” he asked, leaning over to fasten my seatbelt since France was in my lap.

“I’m not spoiling him,” I replied. “I just love him so much I want to give him all the hugs I can.”

I hugged France tightly, and he giggled before wrapping his arms around me too. Fabian shook his head with a laugh.

“I want a big hug too when we get home!” he joked.

I teased him back, saying no, since he’s not a kid anymore.

Just as Fabian started the car and we were exiting the gate, another vehicle suddenly swerved in front of us. Fabian slammed on the brakes, and I screamed as I instinctively held onto France.

“Fuck!”

When I opened my eyes, Fabian’s arm was outstretched in front of both me and France, shielding us.

“Are you two okay? Are you hurt?” Fabian asked, his voice panicked. He gently held my cheek, then looked at France who remained clinging to me.

His brows furrowed deeply as he jumped out of the car. A loud crash followed. I gasped when I saw Fabian pick up a decorative vase and hurl it at the car that had blocked our path.

Unclipping my seatbelt, I got out with France in my arms, who was now shouting, “Dad!”

“What the hell did you do to my car?!” Victor shouted, stepping out of his vehicle.

My blood boiled. He did this on purpose—didn’t he?

People had begun to gather, taking photos and videos. But all my attention was on Fabian, who had now grabbed Victor by the collar.

“You’re seriously asking that after deliberately blocking our car? Were you trying to get us hurt, Valencia?” Fabian growled, and I flinched. It was the first time I saw him truly angry.

“Look, I didn’t see your car—Is this how you act in public?”

Screams erupted around us as Fabian punched Victor squarely in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“My wife and son were in the passenger seat. Would the court accept your excuse if something happened to them?” Fabian sneered. Whispers filled the crowd.

“Did Victor Valencia really do this on purpose? Oh my gosh, there was a kid in the car!”

“Victor!” Themarie ran toward him, helping him stand. She glared at Fabian. “What do you think you're doing?!”

“He didn’t do it on purpose! Why would you assault him like that?!”

Tears spilled down Themarie’s face. She started crying and accused Fabian of having anger issues and said he punched people out of nowhere.

“This will reach the management,” she threatened.

I stepped forward, fuming. “I’m sure there are CCTVs in this area. If I find proof that you did this intentionally, we’ll see each other again in court.”

France hugged my leg tighter.

“We’re not afraid of you. Not me, not Fabian,” I said firmly. I had a gut feeling they staged the incident. There was only one parking lot here—how did they end up taking the longer route that passed exactly in front of us?

I clenched my fists. France and I almost slammed into the dashboard.

Security and staff finally arrived and began dispersing the crowd.

“Your arm,” I gasped, eyes wide as I saw Fabian in the living room. France had fallen asleep, and after 30 minutes I came down, wondering why Fabian hadn’t come up yet. I was worried he was drowning himself in work again.

He was applying ointment to his arm when he looked up at me. I rushed to his side and took his arm.

There was a visible bruise. Then I remembered—he had used that same arm to shield us earlier. I also saw a small cut on his palm, probably from gripping the car window.

“Oh my God, you’re hurt!” I exclaimed.

I sat beside him and pulled out the first aid kit with trembling hands. How did I not notice this earlier?

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt much,” he said gently, holding my hand to calm me down. That’s when I realized I was already crying.

Victor really won’t stop. I was sure he did it on purpose. I felt so frustrated. I wanted to hurt him back.

“Hey. I told you I’m fine. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you earlier—you’d cry again,” Fabian said, caressing my cheek. I looked at him angrily and asked why he didn’t tell me. They should’ve gone to the hospital.

“Because I knew you’d worry. And I saw how terrified you were earlier,” he said softly.

Suddenly, the memory of the car accident from years ago flashed in my mind.

“It’s just a minor injury. Far from any vital organs,” Fabian joked and kissed my forehead. I hugged him tightly, fuming inside as I plotted how I could get back at Victor and Themarie.

But now wasn’t the right time. I held onto Fabian’s sleeve tightly.

As expected, I landed the female lead role. Themarie looked absolutely furious.

Even more shocking—the new director was Jessica. During the meeting, she slammed the script on the table and glared at Themarie.

“If you don’t agree with our casting decisions, maybe you should find a different project. One where your level of talent fits. You can even pay the director again to cast you as the female lead,” Jessica spat.

I was stunned. Some co-directors tried to calm her down. As far as I knew, the Valencias were one of the sponsors of the drama, and Jessica was Themarie’s wife.

I left the room—I'd heard enough. I was excited to tell Fabian the news. He was on the third floor shooting a commercial. I decided to wait for him so we could pick up France together.

I passed a few actors on the way. Some of them looked me up and down. A few staff, including Fabian’s stylist, Laila, quickly approached.

“Ma’am! Are you here for Sir Fabian? He’s still inside.”

I smiled and nodded.

The trainee-looking girls were clearly shocked and quickly left, heading for the elevator. I understood their reaction.

Who would dare offend a Martinez?

Grinning, I went straight to Fabian’s dressing room. Laila told me he had just finished and was on a 15-minute break.

My phone rang. It was Fabian. I picked up with a smile.

“Wife, are you done? Are you heading home?” Fabian asked.

“I’m already behind you,” I said, cracking the door open. There he was, sitting and sipping coffee.

He turned and lit up when he saw me. “I thought you’d gone home. How was the audition?” he asked, standing up to pull out a chair for me.

I smiled as I sat down. “I got the role,” I said.

“But I’m a bit worried. The project is under Director Jessica now. She’s really strict.”

“She’s good though. Out of four dramas she directed this year, all four became hits. As long as you stay true to the character, you’ll be fine.”

Jomari walked in and placed an iced coffee in front of me.

“Thanks, manager!”

Fabian tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. “Come home with me. I’ve only got one last take.”

I nodded. “Can I watch?”

“Sorry, honey. The photographer’s really strict, and the set’s a mess,” he said apologetically.

“That’s okay. Can I borrow your phone then?” I grinned. “I’m too lazy to download games on mine.”

He handed me his phone. The lock screen was a photo of me and France.

“Sir Fabian, please change for the photoshoot,” one of the staff called out.

Fabian kissed my forehead before leaving.

I blushed when I heard the staff giggling. That habit of his—kissing me in public—always caught me off guard.

“Is there a law against kissing your wife in public?” he teased.

I clammed up, and he laughed before heading to the wardrobe area.

I held my cheek. Even after nearly two years of marriage, I still wasn’t immune to Fabian’s charms. My face burned, my heart pounded. I felt like I’d have a heart attack from how much I loved this man.

“What?! Why was the schedule moved again? I have other projects lined up today!”

I turned to see Victor storming into the room, followed by his manager and stylist. He froze when he saw me, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you staring at?”

I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my iced coffee.

Turns out, Victor and Fabian shared a dressing room here. Looked like Victor was part of the same commercial.

“Sorry, Sir Victor,” the manager said. “The sudden downpour delayed the entire crew. We might have to push your shoot to tomorrow.”

“Wait—what’s this about the Summertime Magazine getting canceled?”

The manager explained that a new actor was found to model for the magazine. I heard Fabian’s name.

“What?!”

Victor slammed the table. I ignored them and put on Fabian’s earphones.

Fabian was a star—stealing projects from Victor left and right. Even if Victor was approached first, companies always chose Fabian in the end.

Acting, modeling, commercials—Fabian was always the crowd favorite. And the funniest part?

Victor never stood a chance when Fabian entered the picture. Fabian was always the one in the spotlight.