The setting sun draped Patricia's ranch in a golden glow, its warmth settling over the rolling hills. Dust rose in thick clouds as the rhythmic grunts and neighs of horses filled the air, echoing through the open dirt track.
Two powerful stallions stood poised at the starting position—Philip's sleek black stallion radiating dominance, while Patricia's fiery brown stallion, Speed, pawed at the ground, ready to launch.
Philip smirked, the kind of smirk that carried years of experience, confidence, and just a hint of a challenge.
"You've got talent, my dear. But talent alone doesn't win races. Strategy, precision, psychology—those are the marks of a true champion."
Patricia adjusted her grip on the reins, heart thrumming with anticipation.
"Then teach me, old man. Show me how to be the best."
Philip's laughter rolled through the air like thunder. "You already are the best. Now prove it."
Their eyes met briefly.
Then—the countdown began.
3…
The air tightenedwith tension.
2…
The world blurred to nothing but the track ahead.
1…
GO!
The stallions sprang forward with explosive force.
Their hooves pounded the earth, kicking up dust as they raced neck-and-neck down the track, muscles flexing, nostrils flaring.
Philip edged ahead first, his control effortless, guiding his horse with subtle, practiced movements.
Patricia gritted her teeth, watching—waiting.
"Hyaah! Speed! Hyaah!" She commanded, urging her horse faster.
Philip was fast, but she knew his game.
He would guard the inside lane, swaying just enough to block her path, ensuring she couldn't overtake him.
She tightened her grip on the reins—studying.
Waiting.
Philip's voice carried over the wind. "Anticipate your opponent's weaknesses. Everyone has cracks, no matter how skilled they are."
Patricia smirked.
Then—she saw it.
Philip leaned into a sharp left curve, forcing his horse to angle slightly left.
That tiny adjustment created a gap on the right.
A small, narrow opening.
Patricia didn't hesitate.
She threw herself forward, urging Speed to surge ahead, cutting into the outside lane—slipping into the gap with expert precision.
Philip cursed, attempting to counter-steer, trying to recover.
But Patricia was gone.
She raced forward, tearing through the straightaway—leaving Philip in a cloud of dust.
The finish line loomed ahead.
She pushed harder.
"Hyaah! Speed! You can do it, boy! Hyaah!"
Then—
Victory.
Speed let out a triumphant neigh as they crossed the finish line, the sheer rush of triumph roaring through Patricia's veins.
Philip pulled up beside her, laughing breathlessly. "Now that—was a move worthy of Milton's daughter."
Patricia grinned, tossing off her helmet. "Guess I do know a thing or two about being 'the best.'"
Philip chuckled. "Indeed! A true born champion."
They both broke into laughter, the tension melting into genuine celebration.
"Wow! 12.8 minutes! That's quite a record for the longest speed race! Well done, Miss! A great job well done." Mr. Wilby clapped as he helped Patricia off her horse.
Patricia beamed, running a hand through Speed's mane in appreciation. "Thank you, Mr. Wilby. But really—it was all Speed. He's the true champ."
As if on cue, Speed let out another proud neigh, making them all chuckle.
Philip slid off his horse, shaking his head with amusement. "You did more than your best, my dear. And I think you're ready for the derby season. I have no doubt—you're going to ace it."
Patricia sighed, her excitement tempered by reality.
"12.8 minutes is a great record, but it won't win the competition. It'll only land me third place. Maybe second if I'm lucky. Dad always finished races in the 9-to-10-minute range… How am I ever going to match that?"
Philip placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes warm yet firm.
"You won't—because you're not supposed to. You're meant to be better."
Patricia blinked.
Philip continued, voice steady. "Don't aim to be your father. Aim to be more. Build your own legacy. Push through your limits. And always remember—even in the face of defeat, we lift our chins higher, because it's never over until you decide it is."
Something shifted in Patricia's chest.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
"You always know exactly what to say, uncle Philip."
Philip's gaze softened, his voice quieter. "And you have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that. I wish your father was here to witness this moment..."
A pause—just long enough for sentiment to settle.
Then—Philip sighed. "Unfortunately, I won't be training you anymore."
Patricia frowned. "What? Why?"
Philip gestured vaguely. "I have an important delegation visit coming up. I'll be tied up for two weeks. But don't worry—I'll still be at the derby races, cheering you on."
Patricia nodded, disappointment lingering but understanding his responsibilities.
"So—who's taking over my training?"
Philip smiled. "I'm leaving you in the capable hands of my most trusted derby racers. Steven will train you for the Huddle race, Carlos for the Obstacle Course, and Benny for Speed and Marathon races."
Patricia exhaled, processing. "Alright. Sounds like a solid team."
Philip nodded, squeezing her shoulder once more. "Keep pushing, Patricia. You're closer than you think."
With that—he bid her farewell, mounting his horse and riding off, leaving her standing tall beneath the fading sunset.
.....
The air was warm, kissed by the soft glow of twilight.
Fireflies danced above the crystal-clear brook at the edge of the ranch, their gentle flickers casting a dreamy haze over the field. The soft rustle of leaves accompanied the distant hoots of owls, wrapping the evening in a serene melody.
Patricia sighed, letting the breeze brush against her skin as she sat beneath the towering oak tree.
The world around her glowed under the moonlight—soft, delicate, mesmerizing.
Clusters of flowers gleamed beneath the silver sheen of the night, their petals shimmering gently in the cool air. The oak tree, adorned with golden fairy lights, stood like a beacon of warmth, casting shadows that danced over the earth.
She sat on a white swing, nestled beneath a canopy of intertwined blooms, fragrant roses, lilies, and jasmine forming a hedge of delicate beauty.
She sighed again, smiling at the sheer magic surrounding her.
Then—
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Patricia turned at the familiar voice.
Isaac approached with a small picnic basket in hand, his confident smirk undeniable.
"Derby queen by day, romantic muse by night?"
Patricia chuckled. "You wish."
Isaac settled beside her, setting the basket on the ground.
"I do, actually." His voice was playful but sincere. "So—what does my Derby Princess think of the view? I hope I didn't 'overdo' it like last time. I'm prepared for an earful if I did."
Patricia laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Last time, you built an entire treehouse after I said I wanted something simple—just a cozy place to relax after a long day. And this time…"
She looked around again, eyes sparkling.
"…You exceeded my expectations, my dear handsome knight. It's perfect. Thank you."
Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
Isaac's smile deepened, his gaze tender.
"You're welcome, my princess. Guess I finally pulled it off, huh?" He chuckled, pulling out a bottle of wine and two glasses.
Patricia arched a brow. "Are you planning to get me drunk, Captain?"
Isaac poured her a glass, his eyes mischievous. "Let's just say I love you when you loosen up a little."
Patricia rolled her eyes but took a sip, savoring the warmth.
Then—Isaac leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur.
"You know, ever since I met you… I haven't been able to think about anything else."
Patricia's breath hitched.
The air around them shifted, thickened.
Isaac gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek.
"You are my everything, Sweeches. And I don't want to think otherwise. You complete me in ways I can't even explain. Whenever I feel lost, frustrated, or angry… you are the calm in my storms. You are my guide, my light, my greatest blessing. And I am grateful for you—every single day."
Patricia swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest.
She smiled softly.
"Thank you. Thank you for loving me, Isaac."
She looked down briefly, voice quieter, more vulnerable.
"I honestly thought… I'd never fall in love again. After everything—the betrayals, the heartbreak—I swore I wouldn't let anyone in. But you…"
She chuckled bitterly.
"…In such a short time, you effortlessly broke through my walls. I thought they were solid, unbreakable—but you walked right in, as if they weren't even there."
Her gaze lifted again, locking onto his.
"And you know what? I'm glad it was you."
She squeezed his hand gently. "I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you, Isaac. And I promise to cherish you—forever. Just don't turn out to be a jerk later, otherwise—"
Isaac didn't let her finish.
He kissed her.
Soft. Slow. Deep.
The world melted away.
Nothing else existed—only the gentle pressure of his lips, the heat in their shared breath, the way his hands framed her face so tenderly—as if she was something sacred.
As if she was his everything.
The moment stretched—blissful, intoxicating.
Until—Patricia pulled away slightly, catching her breath.
She gazed into his dark, intense eyes, her cheeks flushed.
They both chuckled, bumping their foreheads together in the smallest, most intimate touch.
Isaac's voice dropped to a teasing whisper.
"You have no idea the storm you just brewed, Sweeches. You're lucky I'm a gentleman… otherwise this swing might've turned into a bed."
His thumb brushed against her lips, tracing them slowly.
Patricia's breath shuddered.
Then—she responded, her voice soft.
"…Well, I don't see what's stopping you. We love each other. And… I'd love it if my first time was with you."
Her cheeks flushed deeply, her gaze dropping slightly as a shy smile played at her lips.
Isaac's chuckle was warm, endearing.
He gently lifted her chin, meeting her eyes.
"Love making isn't just something we do for the moment, Sweeches. It creates a bond—something deeper than desire, something real. When the time comes, I want it to be a memory you cherish, not just something we rushed into."
He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
"That's why I'd rather save you until our wedding night. On that day, I promise it will be sweeter, more magical, more perfect than now."
Patricia smiled, touched, lifting her glass again.
"You never fail to surprise me, Isaac."
He chuckled. "Get used to it, my love."
Then—he nudged the picnic basket.
"Now come on, before dinner gets cold."
Patricia laughed softly, helping him unwrap the food bowls, their conversation weaving effortlessly into the night.
Laughter. Whispered promises. Love in every glance.
They fed each other playfully, shared stories, and basked in the warmth of something undeniably beautiful.
.....
Meanwhile....
"Don't worry, Mr. Hus. I've got everything covered. The court will rule in our favor tomorrow—I promise I won't let you down. Have a good night, sir."
Nicole ended the call, sighing as she stepped out of her car to enter the grocery store.
Cling!
The bell jingled as she walked in, the cool air from the freezers brushing against her skin.
She strolled through the aisles, tossing essentials into her shopping basket before approaching the refrigerator section.
Her fingers closed around a frozen package of beef ribs, holding it up as she examined the cut.
Then—
"I thought you were a vegetarian. Tsk… guess I was wrong."
The voice was familiar. Annoyingly familiar.
Nicole turned, eyes landing on her dear sweet Roach—Davis.
He stood in his casual brown T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, his short wavy black hair brushed to the side, looking effortlessly put together. He couldn't look more handsome. Although he couldn't compare with Isaac but he was handsome in his own way. And she liked it.
Nicole sighed, shaking her head. "I guess the city's health inspector is slacking off. He's letting cockroaches roam freely through supermarkets. Time for him to get fired."
She tossed the ribs into her basket, grabbing more frozen meat before moving down the aisle.
Davis chuckled, eyes flicking to her growing pile of groceries.
"I thought you wanted to keep your beautiful, luscious curves in shape. At this rate, all that protein and calorie overload will turn you into an out-of-shape old 'mom' in no time"
Nicole's blood boiled instantly.
She spun around, fixing him with a lethal glare.
"I'm sorry, but—do you need something? Or do you have so much free time tonight that you're just harassing innocent shoppers with your dirty mouth and sticky hairy legs, that don't know how to stick outside of other people's business? Shouldn't you be spying for your 'sweetcaptain' or doing something actually useful?"
Davis smirked.
She was pissed.
He loved it.
"Thankfully, no. My dear captain is busy having a romantic date with his beautiful Derby princess—so I decided to do some shopping."
He leaned slightly closer, voice teasing. "I figured I'd grab some wine to drown my loneliness, whilst watching romantic comedies—until I saw you.Then I remembered… I'm not single. I have a hooligan girlfriend I vowed to torment forever and stick my hairy legs into her business until I'm truly satisfied. Isn't that amazing news?"
He leaned into her neck, his words stretching out slowly.
"Guess I am sticking in the right spot after all."
Nicole inhaled deeply, forcing herself to keep her cool.
Then—
She turned to him with a slow, knowing smile.
She stepped forward, tilting her head slightly—as if she were about to kiss him.
Davis froze.
'What the hell? Is she actually about to kiss me?'
He silently smirked, ready to deny her the satisfaction.
'No way. I promised myself I'd tame her. No easy wins.'
But—before he could make his move—
Nicole STOMPED on his foot and ELBOWED him in the stomach.
"The hell, hooligan!!"
Davis yelped, the sharp pain doubling him over.
Customers turned, staring at the commotion.
Nicole gasped dramatically, placing her hands on his face, showering him with petty kisses.
"Oh, Babe, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were standing right behind me! So, so sorry! Mmm… there, there, all better?"
Davis saw judging eyes lingering from other shoppers.
Some whispered, some giggled, others shyly turned away.
Nicole's expression was pure innocence.
Davis fumed internally.
'This hooligan!'
He clenched his jaw, watching her smile sweetly.
"I'm so sorry, Babe. I swear I didn't mean to hurt you."
She leaned in, whispering against his ear.
"And remember—I hate it when you scheme in front of me. Those are the Roaches I despise most. So this was just my way of reminding you—don't mess with me."
Her voice softened—then she spoke louder.
"Come on, Babe! Let's go home and put that foot in ice."
Then—she walked away toward the cashier, paying for her groceries.
Davis growled lowly, watching her vanish.
"Well played. Well played, hooligan." He muttered. "Iswear I'm going to get my revenge—sooner or later. Oww...son of a bitch!"
He cursed under his breath when his foot throbbed painfully as if in protest to his thoughts of wanting to get revenge on Nicole.
Still muttering curses, he grabbed wine bottles, placed them in his shopping basket, and proceeded to checkout.
When he arrived at the till, Nicole was already gone.
He scoffed.
'Tsk. I thought she said, "let's go home and put my foot in ice." Now she's gone. Tsk, tsk… What a cold-hearted she-devil.'
He then stepped out after paying for his goods.
The evening air had turned still.
Too still.
Davis felt a chill creeping down his spine.
His eyes scanned the parking lot and he saw Nicole strolling toward her car, humming, her purse slung over one shoulder while she placed her groceries into the trunk.
Davis shook his head, chuckling.
'That she-devil… Look at her smiling and humming, after humiliating me. She lives for my suffering.'
Then—
A sudden movement.
A black tinted van screeched to a halt at the side of the street.
Three men jumped out—fast.
They grabbed Nicole before she could react.
She gasped sharply, struggling, kicking—
A cloth pressed against her mouth.
Her screams died into muffled sounds.
"We got her. MOVE!"
Nicole's vision blurred, dizziness crawling into her limbs.
The men hauled her toward the van.
Before the last goon could board—
A flying kick to flew towards his face, sending him crashing onto the street.
Davis attacked.
The van jerked forward, its tires rolling over the subordinate's leg.
He screamed in agony.
Davis lunged, grabbing the van door, trying to climb inside.
The goons fought him, kicking furiously.
"LET HER GO!!" Davis roared.
"GET RID OF HIM!"
The driver accelerated—HARD.
The van swerved into a sharp turn.
One goon kicked Davis's hands—
He lost his grip.
His body hit the pavement, rolling painfully onto the road.
Gritting his teeth, he looked up—
The van vanished into the darkness.
Gone.
Nicole was gone.
A deep rage boiled through him.
His fists clenched. His body trembled.
Then—
"NO!!"
His roar shattered the silence.
Nicole was taken.
But he would do anything and everything to get her back.
No matter what...