The Game of Betrayal

CHAPTER 3

It was already eight in the morning when her phone rang, it was her gay manager calling.

“Serena, what time are you coming to the studio? It's already 8:35 AM, and you have a shoot from 9 AM to 2 PM!” her manager complained the moment she answered the call.

She didn’t bother responding and just got up, still feeling drowsy. Her body felt heavy—probably because of how much she had drunk last night.

She went straight to the bathroom and soaked in the bathtub. But as she lay there, she suddenly remembered what she had done last night.

“Damn it, Shanel—it was all your fault.” She just closed her eyes to calm herself.

What she had said last night was really embarrassing!

Now she finally had come to her senses—she shouldn’t have said those things. What would Allain Chester think of her? And what if he reported it to his bastard boss?

It wasn’t that she was afraid of her bastard husband, but as long as she could endure his damn cheating, she would. She would numb herself for now, hoping that eventually, she wouldn’t feel any pain once she grew tired of him.

And she wanted to scold herself right now because of what she had said last night. She shouldn’t have let the alcohol get to her. She had never been able to control herself when she was drunk.

How embarrassing!

What she had said to Allain last night was truly shameful! He might even think she was a shameless flirt!

After she had finished showering, she promptly dressed chosen her outfit for the day. She opted for a stylish white sleeveless jumpsuit with a flattering belt at the waist, complemented by elegant two-inch stilettos. To shield her eyes from the morning sun, she put on her favorite Dior white sunglasses.

After getting ready, she stepped out of the bedroom and walked down the staircase, carrying her Hermès bag.

She left the mansion and headed straight to the parking lot. But just as she was about to open her car door, someone behind her moved ahead and quickly opened it for her.

She turned to see who it was, but her breath nearly hitched when she saw her husband's right-hand man—none other than Allain Chester, the very man she had drunkenly offered s*x to the night before.

“Good morning, Madamé,” he greeted her politely.

Instead of responding, she simply got into the back seat and quickly shut the door. However, she was puzzled to find that her driver wasn’t in the front seat. Though confused, she assumed he had just stepped out for a moment to grab something.

But her gaze immediately shifted to the driver’s seat when Allain Chester climbed in and sat down.

“What are you doing, Mr. Chester?” she asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

“I'll be your driver from now on, Madamé. Boss told me to accompany you on all your errands while he's away to ensure your safety,” he informed her respectfully.

Serena just rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to complain.

Allain then drove the car.

Silence filled between them.

“By the way, whatever I said to you last night, please forget it. It was just the alcohol talking. So please don’t take it seriously—just pretend you never heard it from me.”

“I understand, Madamé,” Allain replied formally, keeping his focus on the road.

Serena let out a quiet sigh of relief and just opened her phone. That was when she saw numerous text messages and missed calls from her manager.

After nearly half an hour of driving, the car finally stopped in the parking lot of her workplace, the LM Entertainment building.

“Don't bother follow me anymore. Just stay here and wait for my return.”

“Understood, Madamé,” Allain responded politely, and didn’t follow her as she entered the building.

She took the private elevator to the 14th floor, where the studio was located. As soon as she arrived, her manager immediately greeted her—only to scold her for being late.

As planned, she signed the contract for the endorsement offer.

Her full name was Serena, but she used the name Serena Ramos in her modeling career. Aside from her manager, no one knew that she was a Ferare—the daughter of one of the wealthiest businessmen in the Philippines.

After her photoshoot, they immediately started filming the commercial since the actor she would be working with had already arrived.

“You and Flynn have a kissing scene,” her manager told her while she was getting her makeup done.

“A kissing scene? But there was nothing about that in the contract, and it’s not even in the script!” she complained.

Her manager let out a sigh. “They said it would be better with a kissing scene. But don’t worry, it’s not a French kiss—just a light peck on the cheek.”

Serena hesitated for a moment before eventually agreeing. “Alright, as long as it's just a peck on the cheek.”

Her manager, Freda, suddenly smiled. “Sure, dear. I know Papa C would be furious if any man kissed you on the lips.”

Serena suddenly paused at what she heard, then smirked as an idea came to mind. “No, Freda. I think a kiss on the lips would be better than a kiss on the cheek.”

Her manager’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, of course.” She nodded with a smirk.

“Very well, dear! That’s even better! Alright, I'll inform them.” Excitedly, Freda rushed out of the dressing room.

Serena let out a deep sigh and casually glanced at her phone. But what was she even expecting? Her husband never called whenever he was abroad—too busy chasing women to even remember to call or text her.

That jerk!

After getting her makeup done, they started shooting the commercial. The actor she worked with was nice and kind, and though they had a kissing scene, it was just a quick peck on the lips. Even so, she still felt a bit uncomfortable. After all, it was the first time she had ever kissed another man—and in front of a camera, no less.

“Won't your husband be angry that you kissed another man?” her manager asked nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, I'll handle him,” she simply replied.

Because the truth was, she also wanted to see how her bastard husband would react once he saw the commercial.

After they finished shooting, the actor she had worked with immediately approached her.

“It's so nice working with you, Ms. Serena Ramos. I was surprised to see that you're even more beautiful in person. You're truly stunning,” he complimented her, his gaze fixed on her as if mesmerized by her beauty.

“Thank you,” she simply replied.

But just as she was about to leave the studio, Flynn quickly ran after her.

“May I have your contact number?” he inquired with a charming smile, blocking her exit. “I would love to take you out for dinner sometime.”

“I’m sorry, but I'm married.”

Flynn was surprised upon hearing her response, his lips slightly parting before he managed to speak again. “Oh, I didn't know. I thought you were single.”

“No, I already have a husband,” she repeated before walking away.

She went straight to the restroom since she had to pee.

She was already inside a cubicle when she overheard a conversation between two female staff who had just entered the restroom.

“Did you know? Area Perez and Cyrus Morette are secretly dating! They were caught in a photo leaving a hotel room together in Rome, Italy!”

“Oh my god. Really? Cyrus Morette? Do you mean the CEO of Morce Empire?”

“Yes. It's him.”

“OMG. No wonder Ms. Area isn’t here in the Philippines right now—she's actually on a date in Rome, Italy. But isn’t that guy already married? I heard he's already married to Chairman Clinton Ferare's daughter.”

“That’s what I heard too. That’s probably why they’re secretly meeting in Italy—to keep his wife from finding out. You know how it is with arranged marriages—he probably doesn’t even love his wife. Would he be cheating if he did?”

“Maybe his wife is so ugly!” The two staff members burst into laughter.

“Or maybe they’re already divorced. What a waste, right?”

“Well yeah, most married billionaires have mistresses anyway, and they even love them more than their legal wives.”

“Exactly. Mistresses are so lucky—imagine, even if she’s just the other woman, the man still treats her like a queen and gives her millions of dollars.”

Serena shuddered at what she heard while still inside the cubicle. She quickly pulled out her phone and searched the internet. When she looked up her fellow model, she found leaked photos circulating online—stolen shots of Area Perez and Cyrus Morette entering a hotel together, and Area was clinging to Cyrus's arm like they were actually lovers.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and even her lips trembled. Her hands shook as well, but her grip on the cellphone tightened.

“This asshole,” she muttered furiously as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

Area Perez—her fellow model and constant rival in the industry.

She felt like she was about to explode as she stared at the photo of Area Perez with her husband. The two of them were even smiling, looking very happy as they entered the hotel together.

The pain felt twice as intense now compared to when her husband had been with other women—all of whom were foreigners. But why of all people, did he have to cheat with her own competitor?

“Don’t f*****g cry, Serena. Stop crying. It's okay. He’s just going to have a taste of that b***h and abandon her afterward. You’re still the one he loves, and he’ll still come home to you—because you’re his wife,” she whispered to herself, trying desperately to hold back her tears. But no matter how hard she tried, she still ended up crying—overwhelmed by jealousy and rage. She trembled with frustration. She wanted to lash out, to pull the hair of every woman her husband had ever been with.

But why? Why did he have to cheat with someone she knew—someone who was even her rival in the modeling industry? Was he trying to push her further into anger and humiliation?

“You’re a real bastard, Cyrus. A worthless husband,” she spat, her tears falling nonstop as she sat on the toilet bowl.

When the female staff members had left, she finally stepped out of the cubicle and put her sunglasses back on.

She didn’t bother informing her manager and walked straight out of the building. She got into the car, where Allain was already seated inside, waiting for her.

“Are we going home now, Madamé?” he asked as soon as she got into the backseat.

“Yes, but not to the mansion. Drive straight to Tagaytay, to my rest house."

Allain paused upon hearing her speak in a hoarse voice. He glanced at her discreetly through the rearview mirror, but since she was wearing sunglasses, he couldn’t see her tear-filled eyes.

“What's wrong, Madamé? Are you all right?”

“Stop asking me! Just drive!” she shouted, unable to hold back the rage burning in her chest.

Allain looked startled for a moment but chose not to respond. He just nodded and started the car.