VICTOR FIGHTS FOR HIS FAMILY

The house no longer felt like home, the warmth, the laughter, the easy comfort of having Rory by his side was gone, replaced by a tension so thick it clung to the air like fog.

Victor sat in his study, staring at his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling through old photos of their life together, vacations, stolen kisses, and moments of pure happiness. Had he really ruined everything?

No, he refused to accept this as the end.

Upstairs, Rory sat in their bedroom. Her mind was a battlefield. She hadn’t spoken to Victor properly in days. The few exchanges they had were cold, stiff, and filled with unsaid words.

She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to.

But how could she? The evidence was overwhelming, and the woman had pictures, a hotel receipt, and DNA results.

Rory squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the edge of the bed. The memories of their love flashed before her, clashing violently with the betrayal.

She heard a faint knock on the door.

It was Victor.

“I know you’re still awake,” his voice was quiet and careful.

She didn’t answer.

“Please, Rory.” He pressed.

Still, she said nothing.

After a few seconds, she heard a defeated sigh, then retreating footsteps.

He’s still fighting for her, but was she ready to let him in?

Victor wasn’t a fool. Something about this entire situation felt off.

Yes, he had been at that bar. He remembered celebrating the win with his team, but what he didn’t remember was going to a hotel room with that woman.

Could he have been drugged?

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

He picked up his phone and dialled an old friend, Jonas, a fellow artist who had been at the bar that night.

“Victor?” Jonas sounded groggy. “Mate, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I’m very sorry, something’s very confusing, I need to ask you,” Victor said softly. “I need answers, please, that night at the bar after I won the Art of the Year award, can you remember if I got drunk after the celebration?”

Jonas hesitated. “I mean, we were all drinking, but you weren’t wasted. You were celebrating.”

“Did I leave with anyone?”

There was silence on the other end.

Victor gripped the phone tighter. “Jonas.”

“…You left before me,” Jonas finally said. “I remember you saying you were tired and needed to go home.”

Victor’s heart pounded, then why was there proof that he had slept at that hotel?

“Do you remember any woman hanging around me?” he pressed.

Jonas exhaled. “Not really, man. There were a lot of people there. But listen, if you’re in trouble, I can try to ask around.”

“Please do,” Victor said. “I need to get all the information as soon as it's possible.”

He hung up and immediately dialled the bar where the incident supposedly happened.

The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up.

“Hello?” a sleepy female voice answered.

“This is Victor Dela-Cruz,” he said firmly. “I need to speak to the manager.”

There was a pause, then some rustling. A few seconds later, a male voice came on. “This is Rob. How can I help?”

Victor didn’t waste time. “Some years ago, I was at your bar, and we're trying to investigate certain events about me. Please, may I ask if you keep employee records from back then?"

Rob scoffed. “Seven years? That’s a long time.”

“I need to know about a woman who worked there that night. She claims we slept together, and she has my babies.”

Another pause. “What’s her name?”

Victor clenched his jaw. “Alice.”

Rob sucked in a breath.

Victor noticed. “You remember her, don’t you?”

“…Yeah,” Rob admitted. “She was bad news. She suddenly left and stopped working here a long time ago; we learnt that she got pregnant and was trying to pin it on some rich guy.”

Victor’s blood ran cold.

“You’re saying this isn’t the first time?”

“Not even close,” Rob muttered. “Look man, I can check if we have anything left on her. But if I were you, I’d dig deeper.”

Victor ended the call, his hands shaking.

The pieces weren’t adding up.

He hadn’t slept with that woman. He was sure of it now.

So why did she have proof?

The next morning, Victor came downstairs to find Harriet feeding Ami in the kitchen.

The moment Ami saw him, she beamed. “Daddy!”

His heart softened. “Hey, princess.”

He kissed her forehead before sitting beside her.

Harriet, however, gave him a knowing look. “Have you spoken to her?”

Victor sighed, rubbing his temples. “She won’t listen to me, Harriet.”

“Can you blame her?” Harriet folded her arms. “A woman just walked into this house and claimed her husband had children outside. That’s a lot to take in.”

Victor exhaled. “I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”

Ami, listening silently, finally spoke.

“Daddy, why is Mommy sad?”

Victor froze.

Harriet gave him a pointed look before walking away to give them space.

Victor turned to his daughter, forcing a smile. “Mommy’s just tired, sweetheart.”

Ami frowned. “No, she’s sad. And you’re sad too.”

Victor’s throat tightened. His daughter was only five, but she was just as sharp as her mother.

“Is it because of the lady who came?” Ami asked innocently. “She was shouting a lot.”

Victor’s heart clenched. “You heard that?”

Ami nodded. “She said you were her family. But that’s not true, right? We’re your family.”

Victor swallowed the lump in his throat. “Of course you are, baby. You and Mommy are my only family, my whole world.”

Ami’s little face scrunched in thought before she suddenly hopped down from her chair.

“I’ll talk to Mommy,” she declared.

Victor’s eyes widened. “Ami, no—”

But the little girl was already running off.

Victor’s chest ached. He wanted to stop her, but maybe Rory needed to hear the truth from someone who wasn’t him.

Upstairs, Rory was sitting by the window when she heard a tiny knock.

Before she could respond, Ami peeked her head in.

“Mommy?”

Rory forced a smile. “Hey, baby, come here.”

Ami climbed onto her lap, snuggling close. Rory wrapped her arms around her, breathing in her daughter’s warmth.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence.

Then Ami whispered, “Why is Daddy sad?”

Rory stiffened. “What?”

Ami looked up at her. “He said you’re his whole world. But you don’t smile at him anymore.”

Rory’s throat burned.

God, was it that obvious?

Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She held Ami tighter, pressing her face into her daughter’s hair.

“I’m just… I’m just trying to figure things out, sweetheart,” she whispered.

Ami tilted her head. “But if Daddy loves you, and you love him… shouldn’t that be enough?”

Rory squeezed her eyes shut.

It should be.

But the betrayal still hurt.

Ami gently wiped a tear from Rory’s cheek. “Don’t cry, Mommy.”

Rory let out a broken laugh, pulling Ami close. “I love you so much, baby.”

She felt Ami smile against her chest. “Then love Daddy too.”

Rory froze.

Ami yawned and snuggled closer. Within minutes, she was asleep in Rory’s arms.

Rory, however, couldn’t sleep.

Her daughter had just simplified the one thing she had been struggling with.

If Victor loved her, and she loved him… shouldn’t that be enough?

But was love enough to erase doubt?

Could she still trust him?

Rory stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently down her face.

Victor was fighting.

But was she ready to fight too?

The tension was still unresolved, the stakes were higher, and trust stayed on the brink.