Wife chasing Billionaire's Adoration.

In a high-rise building at the Ayala Center in Manila's capital, a man stood before a floor-to-ceiling window on the top floor of his office. He gazed over the horizon where buildings stretched endlessly, and cars moved in a slow, relentless flow through the streets below.

Despite his intent observation, Roland's eyes betrayed a deep disinterest.

The only pulse of excitement in his life came from his work; nothing else stirred him quite like the thrill of business.

Now, with all his tasks completed, he found himself with little to do, enveloped in boredom. He had received numerous invitations from the country's elite, but he dismissed these gatherings as nothing more than the superficial facade of high society.

While lost in thought, his office door swung open, revealing a man in a tuxedo. He was Andreas Lee, Roland's secretary, exuding reliability and amiability through his gold-rimmed glasses.

"Mr. Fleming, I've accepted the invitation for the Jeans party tomorrow at four," Andreas announced.

"Understood," Roland replied, walking to his desk to collect his coat before heading out, followed by Andreas.

Manila's traffic was unparalleled; it was already nine at night, yet the streets were still bustling as if it were peak hour. Roland, looking out through the car window with cold, detached eyes, felt as though the world itself was in slow motion. He despised this feeling.

After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the hotel, each retiring to their respective rooms. After showering, Roland was about to settle into bed when his phone vibrated—an incoming call from his mother.

He answered, and before he could speak, she questioned, "Rolly, have you scheduled a meeting with the owner of that clothing brand I mentioned?"

"Not yet, Mom. What's the rush?" he responded, his tone cold but softened with a hint of gentleness.

"Are you rebelling against me? You treat my command like a side quest," she said, feigning anger.

Roland chuckled, "Tsk. Mom, I promise I'll definitely meet with them next week." He knew better than to lose his temper with her; if he did, he'd never hear the end of it from his father.

"Alright, you better keep that promise. Take care of yourself, eat well, and don't drink too much," she advised. "Yes, Mother," he replied, aiming to appease her.

After the call, Roland walked over to his hotel office desk to pull out an envelope from a drawer. Inside were documents detailing OS Allure, a clothing brand his mother had taken a liking to, hoping for a collaboration with her U.S.-based textile company, which was part of his corporation.

From a business perspective, OS Allure was far too small to consider for such a partnership, but his mother's admiration for its style and vision left him no choice but to fulfill her wishes. What a willful mother he had.

On the second page of the file was the owner's information: Sandra Romualdez, 31 years old, with a Bachelor of Science in Mass Communication. 'There's nothing much to see,' he thought dismissively, tossing the papers onto the desk before heading to bed. It was a night as boring as any other.