Chapter 5
“NEVER.” Maco’s voice was firm, her tone leaving no room for argument. Sapphire had just suggested the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.
“Just hear me out,” Sapphire said, her voice calm but persistent. “This little fiasco? It might actually work in our favor.”
“No,” Maco snapped, cutting her off before she could explain. She wasn’t about to entertain whatever wild idea this was.
Sapphire’s patience snapped. “Pwede ba, makinig ka muna? You hired me to fix this mess, pero paano ko gagawin yun if you won’t even let me speak?!” Her frustration spilled into her words, sharp and unyielding.
Maco froze, her eyes locking onto Sapphire’s. There was defiance in her gaze, but something softened under Sapphire’s intensity. She started pacing the length of her office, arms crossed, pride warring with reason.
Across the room, Gene sat slouched in a chair, casually twirling a pen between her fingers, looking like she couldn’t care less about the argument unfolding. But as the tension built, she sighed, set the pen down with a soft thud, and finally spoke. “Maxx, just listen to what Saf has to say.”
Maco stopped mid-step, shooting a glance at Gene, then back at Sapphire. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining from her stance. She exhaled heavily. “Fine,” she muttered, sinking into her chair.
Sapphire leaned forward, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk. “Good. Now let me show you why this idea isn’t as crazy as you think.”
Sapphire turned the laptop toward Maco, a confident smile on her face. “Let’s cut to the chase. This—” she gestured to a graph on the screen, its sharp spikes in engagement marked by the dates of the scandal breaking out, “—is the best thing that’s happened to you. Or at least, to your campaign.”
Maco raised an eyebrow, her skepticism obvious. “Best thing? Pag chismisan sa internet? Getting dragged online?”
Sapphire smirked, leaning back like she was enjoying the moment. “Oh, they’re not dragging you. Not the people that matter.” She clicked to the next slide, revealing a heatmap of social media activity. “Tingnan mo ‘to. Your name—and Mia’s—has been trending nonstop ever since it blew up. Hashtags, memes, pati ship name. What is it again? MiCo?”
Maco winced, muttering under her breath, “Tss. Creative.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Sapphire’s grin widened. “At eto pa” She pulled up another graph, a detailed breakdown of the demographics engaging with the trend. “The youth are eating this up. Viral ka, Maco. In the best way possible.”
Maco leaned forward, her tone careful. “And what’s your point? People are talking, sure, pero hindi ibig sabihin nun iboboto nila ako.”
Sapphire snapped her fingers, her eyes lighting up. “Exactly. And that’s where it gets interesting.” She switched to another slide: a pie chart of Valencia’s registered voters. “Kita mo ‘to? Sixty-five percent of registered voters in Valencia are under 30. That’s your goldmine. And right now? Gusto ka nila.”
Maco’s eyes lingered on the chart, her expression unreadable. “Gusto nila ng drama pero di ibig sabihin nun gusto na nila ako.”
Sapphire leaned on the table, her voice soft but still sharp. “It doesn’t matter why they’re paying attention, Maco. Ang importante, interesado sila. But if we turn that curiosity into belief? If they see you as the leader who reflects their values and aspirations? Yun ang magpapanalo sayo.”
Maco’s jaw tightened, her voice dropping. “You’re suggesting we lean into this mess?”
Sapphire shrugged, her tone deliberately casual. “Bakit hindi? The narrative’s already out there. You and Mia? Star-crossed rivals, forced together by politics—or kung ano mang kwento na gusto ng tao. They’re rooting for you. So, give them a reason to believe it.”
Maco’s lips pressed into a thin line, her voice low. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” Sapphire replied, smirking. “Pero kaya nga hinire mo ako, di ba?” she continued. "Two families that were supposedly at odds, coming together for the greater good. It’s a perfect story—reconciliation, unity, bagong simula para sa Valencia."
Maco leaned back, studying Sapphire’s confident expression. A flicker of unease—maybe doubt—crossed her face before she finally spoke. “And what happens kapag sumabog ‘to sa mukha natin?”
Sapphire met her gaze, unwavering. “It won’t. But only if you trust me enough to let me do my job.”
The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken tension. Maco’s fingers drummed on the table as she considered her options. Sapphire stayed still, sharp eyes catching every flicker of hesitation.
Gene leaned back in her chair, arms loosely crossed, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she gave a casual shrug. “It’s not a bad idea,” she said steadily, though there was a glimmer of curiosity—or maybe quiet calculation—in her tone. A teasing smirk followed. “And you and Mia? That should be interesting.”
Maco grimaced, her disgust evident at the mere thought.
Finally, Sapphire softened, her voice gentler but with the same edge. “Look, alam ko you’re not the type to gamble. But this isn’t a gamble, Maco—this is strategy. Ikaw na rin ang nagsabi, this election isn’t just about you. It’s about the future of Valencia. If we can get the youth on your side, we drown out the noise. Sila ang magdadala sa’yo sa finish line.”
Maco’s gaze lingered on Sapphire, guarded but thoughtful. “And Mia? She hates me more than I hate her. Hindi mo mapa papayag yun.”
Sapphire’s grin returned, sharp and knowing. “That’s step two. And ako na ang bahala don. Bali-balita na si Yana Aragon ang running mate niya. I bet you know that already. I will go through Yana to get to Mia.”
Maco’s brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in her expression. “Bakit si Yana? What makes you think she’ll help you?”
Saf leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly, a glint of strategy in her eyes. “Seems like di mo pa alam. Yana is still undecided. Plus she will get her family’s full support once malaman nila yung coalition ng mga pamilya niyo. Yana’s the bridge—both sides trust her. And if there’s anyone Mia will listen to, it’s her. Trust me, kaya ko to.”
Maco crossed her arms, still unconvinced but intrigued. “So, ano yung step one?”
Sapphire leaned back, her smirk unwavering. “Pitching this coalition to your family. Kasi as far as I know, the rift between the Villafrancas and the Rivamontes is mas malalim pa sa Pacific Ocean.” She gestured toward Maco with her pen. “That’s your task.”
Maco’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression hardening. “Wow. As if ganun lang kadali yun.”
“Madali? No. Necessary? Absolutely,” Saf countered smoothly. “Kung gusto mong manalo, you’ll have to make them see na this is the only way forward. It’s time to bury the hatchet.”
Maco exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair as she leaned back in her chair. The weight of Sapphire’s words pressed heavily on her, a tangible reminder of the stakes she couldn’t afford to ignore. “You’re asking for a miracle, Saf.”
“Welcome to politics, Maco,” Sapphire said, her voice laced with a teasing edge. “And in politics, Maco, strategy wins wars. This… is a good strategy.”
Maco exhaled, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders. Her nod was slow, reluctant but firm. “Alright, Saf. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.”
“Oh, I’m better,” Sapphire replied, leaning back with a self-assured smirk. “Now, let’s get to work.”
The Valencia Youth Home buzzed with energy, a vibrant space dedicated to juvenile justice and rehabilitation. At the front, Yana stood with a calm, approachable presence, her crisp white blouse tucked neatly into high-waisted trousers. A simple gold pendant caught the light as she spoke, its subtle shine matching the elegance of her gestures. Her warm smile and soothing tone conveyed genuine care as she introduced the art therapy session, where teens were encouraged to express themselves through painting.
From a distance, Saf observed in silence, her sharp gaze taking in every detail. Yana’s style, refined yet unpretentious, mirrored her personality—graceful, genuine, and effortlessly fabulous. As the session began, Yana turned toward Saf, her polished heels clicking softly on the tiles. Her quiet sophistication was evident in every step as she approached with an easy confidence.
“Sapphire Sabellana… didn’t expect you here. Are you finally diving into something meaningful and covering my outreach programs?” Yana teased, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m here for something bigger,” Saf replied. “Is there a place here where we can talk?”
Yana stood silently at the edge of the bustling hall, her gaze fixed on the teens engrossed in their art activity. Laughter and the soft sound of paintbrushes on canvas filled the room, but it all felt far away to her. Her foot tapped lightly on the floor, a subtle release for the thoughts racing through her mind.
The laughter and chatter of the youth center faded into a distant hum as Yana stood at the edge of the hall, lost in her thoughts. Her gaze flitted over the teens, their animated faces a reminder of the hope she worked so hard to nurture. But tonight, that hope felt fragile, overshadowed by the weight of Sapphire’s proposal.
Her chest tightened as questions swirled in her mind—could she really bridge the divide between these two warring families? Was it worth risking her principles for a coalition that felt as fragile as glass, ready to shatter with the slightest pressure?
Entering politics meant stepping into a world of compromise and uncertainty—was she prepared to gamble everything she stood for on something so precarious?
“And you got Maco into this?” Yana asked, her tone cautious.
“Yes,” Saf responded simply.
“Wow. Honestly, this is a big deal. You’re right... but I don’t know, Saf. My family’s approval is... complicated. They’ll only agree if the coalition is truly solid.”
“Then let’s make it solid. Go to Mia, persuade her. Make her see that this is the best way to win. If you can get Mia to agree, her family will follow. Alam kong kaya ni Mia na kumbinsihin ang pamilya niya. Her word carries weight in their family.” Saf explained.
“And what about the Villafrancas?” Yana asked, still uncertain.
“Let’s trust that Maco will come through,” Saf replied confidently.
It was the weekend, and after much deliberation, Mia and Maco had managed to convince their families to meet for the first time in years. Saf and Yana orchestrated the arrangements, ensuring the meeting was held on neutral grounds. The chosen venue was the Aragon family’s private beach estate—an exclusive, secluded property two hours away from the city.
The estate was vast, spanning 80 hectares of lush forest and opening up to a pristine white sand beach that stretched a full mile. Its isolation provided the perfect cover, ensuring the meeting remained discreet and safe from any potential leaks.
The Villafrancas were the first to arrive, pulling into the estate with a convoy of six vehicles, three of which carried security personnel. Their party was an impressive entourage: Maco, her father Carlos, her older sisters Vicky and Nica, cousins Gene and George, their mother Carmen, a handful of staff, and two family lawyers.
Not long after, the Rivamontes arrived in a more modest convoy of four vehicles, two designated for security. Mia stepped out of the lead car, accompanied by her poised and elegant mother, Grace, her older sister Vivienne, her uncle Fred, and a smaller entourage of staff members.
A charged silence hung in the air as the two families stepped out of their respective vehicles. The tension was palpable, crackling like static electricity. Every movement was measured, every glance carrying years of unresolved grudges. The rustling leaves and rhythmic crash of the waves provided a stark contrast to the storm brewing between the Rivamontes and Villafrancas.
From the shaded veranda of the Aragon estate’s beachfront villa, Saf and Yana watched as the two convoys parked at opposite ends of the circular driveway. Saf crossed her arms, a calculating glint in her eyes.
“Showtime,” she muttered, her tone sharp with anticipation.
Yana, ever the peacekeeper, shot her a look. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t end in disaster.”
The main dining hall of the Aragon estate’s cabana was centered around a six-meter-long hardwood table, polished to a mirror-like sheen. This was where the meeting was set to take place. On either side of the table, the Rivamontes and Villafrancas approached, led by their respective patriarchs—Mia’s uncle, Fred, and Maco’s father, Carlos.
The air was heavy with tension as the two men locked eyes from across the room, their expressions unreadable. Their steps slowed as they reached the middle length of the table, stopping just two feet apart. The rest of their parties stood at either end, unsure of what was about to unfold.
The silence was deafening.
Maco glanced sideways at Gene, her unease evident in the stiffness of her shoulders. Gene returned the look, his usual calm demeanor tinged with apprehension. Across the room, Mia exchanged a knowing glance with her mother, Grace, as if silently asking, What now?
Ten agonizing seconds passed. Neither Fred nor Carlos moved, their expressions still unreadable. Then, with almost synchronized exhalations, both men broke into wide grins and pulled each other into a firm embrace, the kind shared between old friends who had been separated for far too long.
“Pare!” Fred exclaimed, his voice booming with warmth.
“Freddy! Parang di ka tumanda ah!” Carlos replied with equal enthusiasm.
The tension in the room dissipated in an instant, replaced by a palpable wave of relief. Saf, observing from the far end of the table with Yana and her father, Mariano, allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
Maco blinked in disbelief, leaning toward Gene. “Uhh... ano yun?” she whispered.
Gene shrugged, equally baffled. “Beats me.”
Mia raised an eyebrow at her mother. “Ay wow. They’re hugging it out?”
Grace sighed, her composed exterior cracking slightly. “Ganyan na sila dati pa. It’s the rest of us who kept the feud alive.”
For those who truly knew Fred and Carlos, the scene was less surprising. Fred, often described by Mia as the “cool uncle,” was the kind of man who could be both laid-back and commanding, depending on the situation. Politics, for him, was a duty—one he approached with pragmatism but always balanced with humor and charm.
Carlos, on the other hand, was the quintessential reluctant politician. He would’ve much preferred running a fishing gear business or spending his days birdwatching in peace. The rivalry between their families had kept them apart, but neither had ever harbored genuine animosity for the other.
Mariano, Yana’s father and the host of the meeting, clapped his hands together with a hearty laugh, breaking the moment. “Well, now that the ice is broken, why don’t we all take our seats and get down to business?” he said, his lively spirit filling the room.
Yana added with a soft chuckle, “Parang hindi naman pala natin kailangang mag mediate. Saf, are you sure you weren’t behind this reunion?”
Saf smirked, arms crossed as she leaned casually against the doorframe. “I wish I could take credit. But honestly, I’m just here for the show.”
As the families began to take their seats, the younger members still exchanged puzzled glances, processing the unexpected camaraderie between Fred and Carlos. What had initially seemed like an impossible meeting was beginning to feel... manageable.
The meeting opened with Mariano Aragon, Yana’s father, delivering warm pleasantries. His jovial demeanor lightened the mood as he welcomed both families to his estate. "Well, look at this—Rivamontes and Villafrancas under one roof. Who would’ve thought? Let’s hope the walls can handle the tension.” His chuckle drew polite smiles, though the atmosphere remained thick.
Saf took over smoothly, clicking through her presentation slides with the confidence of someone who knew she held all the cards. “Alright, let’s get straight to it,” she began, her tone sharp but engaging. “I know this is uncharted territory for all of us, but let’s start with the numbers.”
The slide displayed voter demographics, highlighting the 65% youth bloc.
“Youth voters dominate this election, and the UVP is gaining traction because they’ve captured the narrative— ‘pagbabago,’ ‘bagong mukha,’ ‘pagkakaisa laban sa lumang sistema.’ They’re calling us outdated. And we’re letting them win by doing nothing.” Saf’s gaze swept across the table, landing briefly on Mia and Maco before continuing. “What if we beat them at their own game?”
Carlos Villafranca leaned back, arms crossed. “And what exactly is that game, Ms. Sabellana?”
“Drama,” Saf replied with a sly grin. “In this digital age, people love a good story. And right now, the UVP is weaponizing social media against us. Why not fight back by owning the narrative? Turn their ploy into our advantage.”
Vivienne Rivamonte, ever the skeptic, interjected, “Owning the narrative? You mean capitalizing on a lie?”
Saf was unfazed. “Not a lie. A story. At hindi naman tayo ang nag-umpisa nito. The narrative is already out there—Mia and Maco, the heirs of feuding families, caught in a heated parking lot spat. ‘Shini-ship’ na sila ng tao. Bakit hindi natin gamitin yon? Spin it into a tale of reconciliation and unity. Yan ang gustong makita ng mga botante.”
Grace Rivamonte frowned. “Pero hindi naman sila artista, Saf. Hindi naman to showbiz. We can’t ‘sell’ a fake relationship to the public.”
Saf nodded, acknowledging the hesitation. “I understand the concern. Pero linawin ko lang—we don’t need to fake anything. We just ride the wave. Be seen together, build a working partnership, and let the public draw their conclusions. No one’s asking you to lie. Think of it as marketing—just like a celebrity love team.”
A scoff came from Vicky Villafranca, Maco’s older sister. “Celebrity love team? And you want to make it... what, gay? That’s pushing it, don’t you think?”
The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Maco’s jaw tightened, but before she could speak, Saf stepped in, her voice calm but cutting.
“Respectfully, Ms. Villafranca, this isn’t about pushing anything. It’s about being smart. People are already talking—why fight it? And tapping into progressive ideals? That’s strategic. Mas vocal na ang kabataan ngayon when it comes to inclusivity at representation. If Mia and Maco can embody that, it’s a win—not just for them, but for everyone at this table.”
Mia broke her silence, her voice steady but edged with sarcasm. “How fitting. From family feud to progress mascots—just like that.”
Saf met her gaze evenly. “Alam ko naman na hindi madaling mag-bridge ng rift, especially after everything. That’s why I’ve already laid out a month-long retreat for you and Maco. The goal is to slowly mend your relationship—not just for the campaign, but genuinely.”
Her gaze softened as she shifted between Maco and Mia, her sincerity evident.
“Mahaba ang oras natin para paghandaan ang campaign period. So, if you guys are concerned about staying true to their morals, they shouldn’t worry. We’re not pretending—if the bond is real, it’ll show.”
Maco and Mia exchanged an uneasy glance, letting the weight of Saf’s words settle between them. The notion of rebuilding their long-forgotten connection felt overwhelming, and neither could deny the tension that lingered.
Saf held Mia’s gaze and continued “You and Maco would be the youngest candidates in your respective positions. That’s the real selling point—youth, progress, and unity. It’s not about faking anything. It’s about showing people what they want to see: a fresh start.”
Fred Rivamonte sighed, leaning forward. “And if this backfires?”
Yana, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “If it backfires, we deal with it. But Saf has a point. This isn’t about the feud anymore—it’s about survival. Not just for your families but for Valencia.”
Fred exchanged a look with Carlos, and for a moment, the weight of their shared history hung in the air. Finally, Carlos spoke, his voice low but resolute.
“She’s right. We’ve always let pride dictate our decisions. Maybe it’s time we tried something different.”
Fred nodded slowly, though reluctance lingered in his expression. “We’ve been at this so long, we should’ve started our own reality TV show by now.” he joked, lightening up the mood, which earned a few chuckles from both sides.
Carlos jumped in the saying a joke “Pag etong planong to di gumana, Saf ikaw magiging counselor sa monthly retreat namin ah”
Saf smiled, sharp and confident. “Trust me, it will.”
Maco and Mia exchanged a glance, the unspoken tension between them mirrored in their mutual reluctance. This was only the beginning, but the wheels were now in motion.