Chapter 41: 41

Chapter 41

“I want a baby from you. I’m a hundred percent sure. No—actually, I love the idea of having a baby that’s exactly like you.”

Fabian’s voice was soft but certain as he caressed my hand, his eyes not leaving mine.

He explained gently that I’d be returning to acting soon, and I still had some unfinished business to resolve in that world.

“We can make a baby after your first drama,” he reassured me. “I’m only thinking about you. Don’t overthink it. I love you.”

I didn’t know what to say. I must’ve looked ridiculous again, lost in overthinking. Fabian chuckled and told me not to cry—two people would be mad at him if they saw me in tears.

He cupped my cheek and brushed it with his palm before grabbing the animal hat from the couch and placing it on my head. Then, he put on his own. He wiggled the floppy ears with his hands, making me laugh despite myself.

Suddenly, I thought of my parents. Especially my dad. He used to do the exact same thing when I was crying—put on an old animal hat and wiggle the ears to cheer me up.

“It’s their death anniversary today,” I murmured.

Fabian stopped, his expression softening. He asked who I was referring to. That’s when I realized—I’d never told him much about my family.

“My mom and dad,” I said, smiling a little despite the ache in my chest. “Dad bought that hat for me. Every time I cried, he’d wear it just to make me laugh.”

What struck me most was that Vladimir’s birthday fell on the same day—the exact month and date—as the day I lost my parents when I was eight.

Before we could say anything else, we heard the sound of a car approaching. I immediately stood up.

“They’re here!”

I grabbed Fabian’s hand and pulled him toward the door, smiling.

France blinked in confusion when Sonia urged him to go ahead and open the door. Just as he reached for the doorknob, he stopped and turned to Vladimir.

“You do it,” he said, stepping aside.

Vladimir hesitated, then nodded. As he opened the door, a loud cheer erupted.

“Happy Birthday!”

Sonia and Fabian greeted him in unison, smiles wide, hands full—Fabian with gifts, Sonia holding a cake lit with colorful candles. The living room had been transformed with decorations, food, and presents.

Vladimir froze.

His expression turned blank.

“Vlad?” Sonia asked, concerned. “Aren’t you happy?”

But before anyone could move, Vladimir turned and bolted out the door.

“Vlad!” France shouted, immediately chasing after him.

Sonia handed the cake to Sophia, worry etched on her face. Without a second thought, she and Fabian ran after the boys.

Outside the mansion gates, Vladimir was already down the path, with France chasing him and calling his name.

“Vladimir Valencia! You idiot! Stop!”

That did it. Vladimir stopped in his tracks, startled. He turned and saw France, panting hard, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

“France!”

Vladimir ran back to him. As soon as he got close, France grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to the ground beside him.

“Why—why did you run off like that?!” France said between gulps of air, still catching his breath.

Vladimir held onto France’s hands, but France refused to let go until he got an answer.

“I... I’m scared,” Vladimir admitted quietly.

France fell silent.

Vladimir lowered his gaze, his voice trembling.

“What if... what if this is all just a dream? What if tomorrow... Mom takes me back? I’m scared to accept any of this, only for it to disappear. What if this birthday is the only one I get? What if tomorrow—tomorrow—”

“Vladimir.” France finally exhaled and released him.

“This is your birthday. Mom and Dad prepared everything just for you. Stop thinking about the worst things. Today, you’re with me, with Mom, with Dad, Grandma, Auntie, and Uncle.”

He reached for Vladimir’s hand.

“They already said you’re not going back. You’re going to live with us now.”

Vladimir lowered his gaze again. “But I’m still a Valencia.”

“And you’re also Sonia’s son.”

“We’re a family now,” France corrected him, his voice firm but kind.

That’s when they heard Sonia calling.

“France! Vladimir!”

She was approaching with Fabian right behind her, both of them clearly worried. Sonia knelt beside the boys, checking them for scrapes or injuries.

“Mom?” Vladimir looked up, tears welling in his eyes. “Can I stay with you? You won’t leave me again, you promise?”

He sniffled, voice cracking as he continued.

“I don’t want them to take me away. I promise I won’t be naughty. I won’t ask for anything. I’ll eat just a little. I—”

He couldn’t finish.

Sonia pulled him into a tight hug, her own tears finally falling.

“You don’t have to beg me, Vladimir. Even if I have to kneel before the judge and beg for custody—I’ll do it. Because you’re my son.”

Vladimir clung to her, sobbing.

“I don’t want to go back. I want to celebrate all my birthdays with you.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” a voice said gently.

Vladimir looked up. Fabian had crouched beside him, placing a warm hand on his head.

“You’re Sonia’s son. Sonia is my wife. France’s mother. That means you’re part of my family too. Blood doesn’t make a family—love does. You’ll never set foot in the Valencia mansion again. That’s my promise. Let us adults handle the rest.”

Sonia, sniffling, turned to look at Fabian, her eyes filled with emotion.

“You’ll never be separated from your mommy again,” Fabian said.

Vladimir burst into tears again and hugged Sonia tightly. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Fabian stood and helped Sonia to her feet. “The ground’s cold. Let’s head back.”

Vladimir was stunned when Fabian suddenly picked him up effortlessly, taking France’s hand with his other and leading them back toward the house.

“You’ll melt the candle at this rate,” Fabian teased. “And the food’s getting cold.”

Sonia laughed and wiped her cheeks. With how many gifts Vladimir received, they’d be up all night unwrapping.

That evening, the Martinez mansion echoed with laughter and music. There were games, songs, and chaos—mostly from gift-wrapping torn and scattered across the floor.

Vladimir had no memories from when he was one to four years old. Since he could remember, all he’d ever seen was his mother’s face.

This was the first birthday he could remember where he had a cake.

“Vladimir, here,” said France. “This is my gift.”

He handed over a glass jar filled with smooth stones—each painted with smiling faces in bright, happy colors.

“You made this?” Vladimir’s eyes widened.

France nodded shyly. “I couldn’t buy anything, so I made something—just like you did on my birthday.”

Vladimir hugged the jar tightly. “I’ll keep it forever.”

Sonia smiled as she watched the sweet interaction. Fabian came to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Sometimes I just thank God Victor was an idiot,” Fabian muttered.

Sonia burst out laughing. “Maybe we just weren’t meant for him.”

“Exactly. You were meant for me,” Fabian added, pinching her nose.

Sonia laughed again, lightly elbowing him. “Stop that.”

The house echoed with laughter long into the night. Eventually, Sonia tucked the boys into bed.

Vladimir had already changed into pajamas and was sitting among a pile of new teddy bears from Grandma.

“Time for bed, honey,” Sonia whispered, tucking him under the comforter.

Vladimir smiled and whispered, “Good night, Mommy.”

She kissed his forehead. At the door, Fabian waved, and Vladimir grinned, waving back.

The Next Morning

Sonia woke up early to prepare breakfast and pack three lunch boxes. By 6 a.m., the boys came down to the dining area and greeted her.

“Your tie’s crooked,” France scolded Vladimir.

“Come here, baby. I’ll fix it,” Sonia said sweetly.

Vladimir smiled and let her straighten it. She then asked them to sit at the table.

She was about to get water when Fabian stood.

“Wait, I’ll get it,” he said, going to the fridge. He brought back glasses and napkins.

“By the way, I might be late tonight,” he told Sonia. “We’re shooting the final scenes of my drama. It’ll probably run overtime.”

“Okay, just make sure to call me when you're heading home,” Sonia warned. “Because if you don’t, I won’t open the door for you.”

Fabian laughed. “Okay, okay. You win. I’ll call.”

France and Vladimir watched their parents, amused. Sonia pointed her finger at Fabian, who just kept laughing.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Jomari stepped in, clearly distressed.

“Fabian,” he called.

Fabian excused himself and led Jomari to the garden.

Outside, Jomari looked frustrated.

“You’re really going to let this happen?”

“I’m letting them be,” Fabian replied.

“Have you lost your mind? When are you planning to call a press conference?”

“When Sonia’s new drama starts airing and once I get full custody of Vladimir,” Fabian said calmly.

“You’re insane,” Jomari muttered. “Your career could be destroyed in three days. What are you planning?”

Fabian had already lost sponsors due to Victor’s manipulations—accusations of stealing someone’s wife, custody battles, rumors of abuse, and even a secret child.

“All that means one thing,” Fabian said with finality. “This industry was never meant for me.”

Jomari’s eyes widened. “You’re saying that now? After all these years? Everything you worked for?”

Fabian stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“I’ve already found what I was searching for. A wife. Two sons who need me. You know how important that is to me, Manager.”

Jomari stared at him. For the first time, he saw Fabian with an expression full of peace and certainty.

Fabian was determined.

He wasn’t just planning to walk away from showbiz—he was planning to burn the Valencia legacy to the ground. For Sonia. For their children.

He would clear every thorn and lay down a flowered path for her.

“You’re insane,” Jomari whispered with a chuckle, watching Fabian walk back toward the house—toward the woman waiting for him at the garden entrance.

Jomari couldn’t help but think: if Sonia ever asked for a star, Fabian would probably buy a spaceship just to fetch it.