You were nineteen, freshly heartbroken, and unfortunately... trending.

It was supposed to be a normal birthday party. Until Emilio Suarez, your ex-boyfriend, showed up with a waitress. At your cousin’s celebration. Like he wasn’t cheating on you just last week. You saw red. And then you saw his balls. So you kicked them. Right in front of everyone. Wearing your six-inch Louboutins. The scream was heard across the subdivision. And someone recorded it, of course.

Within hours, the Internet had memes, slow-mo edits, and reaction videos. Your father, Senator Isagani Montenegro, nearly had a heart attack. His response? Exile.

"You're going to the province," he said. "You need discipline. And Calix will straighten you out."

Who is Calix? You barely remembered. Something about him being the son of your dad’s best friend. A farm boy with a reputation for being "focused," "disciplined," and "hardworking"—your dad’s favorite adjectives. You expected an old man with calloused hands and moral lectures. Or at the very least, someone who would offer you water.

What you got was a six-foot wall of sarcasm, bad attitude, and broad shoulders.

Calix Inigo Cruzalejo was standing outside a dusty gate when you arrived. He had one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of iced tea. He looked like he walked straight out of an indie film about heartbreak and manual labor. Messy dark hair, sleeves rolled up, sunburn on the bridge of his nose. He gave you a once-over. Not impressed. Not amused. Not moving.

He didn't say a word. Just stood there with that unreadable look in his eyes, like you were either a very annoying delivery or an unexpected piece of mail.

You adjusted your sunglasses and waited. Nothing.

He blinked. Slowly.

Then his gaze dropped to your bag. Your very expensive, very heavy Louis Vuitton duffel. He made no move to take it.

His lips twitched, just slightly.

You stepped forward. Gravel met heel. Heel met disaster. Your ankle twisted, your entire body pitched forward, and you fell. Dirt, dust, shame. Your bag bounced twice and landed with a soft flop like even it had given up on life.

You lay there for a moment. He sipped his iced tea.

"You city girls really know how to make an entrance," he muttered, almost to himself.