Ethan's POV
I never thought I'd end up completely alone. On the first day of my so-called independence, I learned a brutal truth—none of my friends were truly my friends.
They were there when I had money, laughing at my jokes, making plans, and acting as if our bond was unbreakable. But the moment I had nothing, my phone went silent. There were no calls, no messages; it was as if I had vanished overnight.
At first, I made excuses. Maybe they were busy, or perhaps they hadn't seen my messages. But the truth became clear as the hours passed and the silence stretched thin. My father had made sure of it.
He wielded his influence like a weapon, cutting off every escape route, ensuring I had nowhere to turn.
My father wanted me to crawl back. I refused to give him that satisfaction.
I ended up outside Vince's parents' villa with no other options. My aunt and uncle—people who once treated me like their own—wouldn't even open the door. I knocked. I called. I waited. Nothing.
The night air gnawed at my skin as I stood there, the weight of abandonment pressing against my chest.
Desperate, I took a taxi to my cousin's house, clinging to one last shred of hope. But when I arrived, I found another dead end. He was gone—already off to Adriana's farm.
Instead, a maid handed me a plane ticket and a duffle bag stuffed with my clothes.
My father had decided my fate for me. Again.
I clenched my fists, anger burning in my chest. Was this all I meant to him?
I sank onto the front porch of Vince's house, hands trembling as I struck the cold, unforgiving ground. The sting in my knuckles was nothing compared to the humiliation burning inside me.
Alone. Cut off. Exiled.
If my dad thought I would break that easily, he was wrong, even if I had nothing—no money, no home, no so-called friends.
When I thought I'd hit rock bottom, Vince's maid took pity on me, slipping a few bills into my palm—barely enough to get by. I swallowed my pride, took the cash, and hailed a cab to the airport.
As I boarded the plane, reality hit me. Gone were the days of luxury, private jets, and first-class seats. Now, I was crammed into the economy, surrounded by strangers.
I exhaled sharply, staring out the window at the endless sky. For the first time, I admitted that I was in deep trouble.
There was one way out. I could apologize, swallow my pride, and do what my father wanted. It would be the easiest path, the logical choice. But I couldn't do it.
I refused to give him that satisfaction. I would prove him wrong, build my own life and my own success, and open my art gallery without his help—even if it took years.
Still, a part of me ached. I knew I had broken my parents' hearts, especially my mother's.
But I couldn't let my father control my life. Not again.
He had pushed me toward wealthy girls for years, arranging dates as if my love life was just another business deal. I always found ways to escape, making excuses and slipping away.
This time, I wasn't running.
This time, I was choosing my own path.
He had taken everything from me, thinking I'd come crawling back.
Instead, I was heading to Adriana's farm—a place I never thought I'd return to.
The idea of working there made my stomach churn. I didn't want an office job but a farm job. Heat, dirt, and animals were the last thing I wanted.
As a child, I loved the farm—running through fields, playing in barns, and fishing with my father. But the city stole my heart, and I never looked back. I barely visited, even when my father asked. Instead, I spent years defying him.
Yet, as the plane took off, carrying me toward a future I hadn't planned for, I realized I was truly on my own for the first time.
I had no idea what would happen next.
"I thought you wouldn't come," Vince said as I got into the car. "I wanted to help, but my parents threatened me, and I—"
"Don't apologize," I cut him off. "None of this is your fault. It's my father's."
Vince glanced at me. "I disagree. He celebrated his birthday without his heir, and everyone asked for you. It pissed him off when you ignored his calls."
I tensed.
"You partied all night instead," he continued. "Spent a hundred dollars a week on parties. It wasn't even your money, Ethan."
I scoffed. "Can't believe you're siding with him."
"I'm not," he said. "But as your cousin and best friend, I should've told you the truth sooner. You pissed him off, lived off his money without earning a cent. Honestly? This is the best thing your father could've done for you."
I stared at him, stunned.
"You're twenty-three. You had everything handed to you, and you ran from it," he said bluntly.
I clenched my jaw. "You used to party with me. What changed?"
Vince sighed. "I grew up. My parents gave me everything, and I owe them my loyalty. They raised me, supported me—I had no reason to rebel."
"I just wanted to live my own life," I muttered.
"Then why didn't you start painting instead of partying?" Vince shot back. "You hate working for your father, but you never even tried. You could've done both—worked and painted."
"You know what I want," I snapped.
Vince shook his head. "Your father worked his whole life to give you everything. He missed birthdays and special moments, all for you and your sister."
"And that's exactly why I don't want to be like him," I said.
"You don't have to be like him," Vince replied. "But you can't expect everything without putting in the work."
I exhaled, leaning back. "I'm tired from my flight."
Vince chuckled. "Ethan Almendraz flying economy. Hilarious." He said and mockingly laughed at me.
I smirked. "Wasn't bad. No special treatment. I liked it."
"Good," he muttered with amusement on his face.
We rode in silence the rest of the way.
A strange warmth settled in my chest when we arrived at the farm. I hadn't realized how much I missed this place.
"Nina wants to see you first," Vince said.
"Can't I just go to my room?" I asked.
He shook his head. "You're here as one of us, not the owner's son."
Inside Nina's office, she greeted me with a warm smile. "Ethan! It's been years."
"Good to see you too, Nina," I said, taking a seat.
She sighed. "This is hard, but your father gave strict instructions. You understand, right?"
I nodded. The farmhouse was the only place I was allowed to stay. He was making this difficult, but I'd leave and start my own business once I saved enough. Vince was right—I had to start painting again.
Then Nina said something that made my stomach drop.
"You won't use your real name here. You're Ethan Vasquez now. No one can know you're Isagani Almendraz's son." She declared.
I stiffened.
"You'll wash your own clothes, no maids, no special treatment. You work as a farmhand. That's what your father wants." Nina added as I swallowed hard.
"You'll share a room with Jonathan. No private quarters," she added.
I felt like the ground had been ripped from under me.
"The old staff knows, so they'll treat you like the rest," she said. "You can still ride your horse—at least he didn't take that from you."
It felt like I had lost everything.
"Hey, Ethan, wake up!" Jonathan's voice jolted me from sleep. I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head.
"It's your first day. You can't be late." My roommate added.
I peeked at him through one barely opened eye. Dressed in work clothes, boots laced, hair still damp from a shower—Jonathan was ready. Unlike him, I had no desire to leave the warmth of my bed.
"You go ahead. Tell Nina I'm still tired from my flight," I mumbled, turning away.
Jonathan sighed. "Suit yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you."
The door creaked shut behind him.
I exhaled, satisfied—just five more minutes... maybe ten.
When I finally checked the clock, my stomach dropped.
8:45 a.m.
"Shit."
I scrambled out of bed, put on jeans and a T-shirt, and rushed to the kitchen—only to find empty serving trays and staff already cleaning up.
A middle-aged worker looked up, unimpressed. "There is no food left. You woke up late."
"You're kidding," I muttered. "There's got to be something."
"Breakfast ended at eight. Rules are rules."
I was about to argue when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"You knew the drill, Mr. Vasquez. Late means no food."
I turned to find Nina, arms crossed, looking entirely unbothered.
"That's too much," I grumbled.
"No, it's discipline," she shot back. "Everyone else made it on time. Maybe set an alarm next time."
Frustration burned in my chest. My father hired the strictest people, and Nina was no exception.
"Now," she said, handing me a time card, "punch in. And for the record, your late minutes will be deducted from your salary."
"That's unfair!"
"It's completely fair," she countered. "Why should you get paid for hours you didn't work? You're an hour and a half late. Consider yourself lucky it's just a pay cut, not an extra shift."
I clenched my jaw. "I'm not working for my father. I'm here to earn my own money. This has nothing to do with him."
"Then act like it," she said simply. "No special treatment."
She turned on her heel, motioning for me to follow. I had no choice but to trail behind her, irritation growing with each step.
We passed sprawling fields, wooden fences, and busy workers tending to crops and livestock. The farm smelled of fresh hay and damp soil, the sounds of morning work filling the air.
Then we reached the stable. I froze at the entrance, the strong scent of manure making my stomach twist.
"Are you serious? I can't clean the stable, Nina. This is absurd."
She smirked. "Oh, you can. Everyone does. You're on rotation, and this just happens to be your assignment for the week. Mucking stalls, feeding the horses—get used to it."
I stared at the dirty, hay-covered floor.
Before I could argue, she turned away. "Good luck. You'll need it."
And just like that, she was gone, leaving me in the middle of the stable, surrounded by the scent of hay, sweat, and horse manure.
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. This was going to be a long week.