A Filipino Tycoon Sees a Familiar Woman at a Restaurant — But the Three Kids Beside Her Make Him Drop His Fork

The soft clinking of cutlery and smooth violin music filled the elegant dining hall of La Vina Alta, an exclusive restaurant tucked in the heart of Bonifacio Global City (BGC). It was the kind of place where dress codes were enforced, and reservations were booked months in advance.

Sebastian “Basti” Villanueva, one of the country’s most eligible bachelors and heir to the Villanueva Holdings Group, sat at his regular window table. He was in the middle of a strategy talk with a board director when he happened to glance toward the far end of the room—and froze.

Across the room sat a woman in a classic black Filipiniana-style gown, radiating quiet elegance. Her smile hadn’t changed. Neither had the way she carried herself—poised, self-assured, graceful.

Althea.

The name hit him like a stone skipping across water.
Seven years. It had been seven long years since they last saw each other.
Seven years since he let her go—the biggest mistake of his life.

But it wasn’t just her that made his hand falter, his fork slip and clatter against the porcelain plate.

It was the three children seated with her.

Three boys.
Warm brown skin, curly black hair.

One of them turned to laugh—and looked exactly like him.

A waiter discreetly picked up his fallen fork and replaced it, but Basti barely noticed.

His heart pounded.

Could it be…?

He stood abruptly.

“Sir?” the board director asked, confused.

“Excuse me. I’ll be back.”

He walked briskly toward the far side of the room, every step bringing him closer to a past he thought was long buried.

Althea noticed him before he reached the table.

Her smile faded just slightly—but she didn’t panic. She leaned toward the boys, whispered something, then looked up as Basti approached.

“Sebastian,” she said evenly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither did I,” he said, barely breathing.

He looked at the boys, trying to control the shock on his face.

“Are they…?”

Althea’s voice cut in, calm but firm.

“They’re my sons.”

The eldest looked up.

“Ma, is this the boss you used to work for?”

“Used to work for?” Basti echoed, his brows furrowing.

Althea gave a tight smile.

“Yes. I was Mr. Villanueva’s executive assistant. A long time ago.”

The second child piped up. “You mean before we were born?”

Basti swallowed.

“How old are they?”

Althea stood.

“Not here. Not in front of them. If you want answers… we’ll talk. Outside.”

Outside, on the Balcony

The air was cool and sharp. City lights glimmered below them.

Basti turned to her, voice trembling.

“Althea, one of those boys… he looks like me. Exactly like me. You left without a word. No goodbye. And now you’re here, with children?”

Althea crossed her arms.

“You think I vanished? You told me I belonged behind a desk—not beside you. Remember that?”

Basti flinched.

“I was stupid. Arrogant. I didn’t know how to handle…”

“Falling for your assistant?” she finished. “Neither did I.”

Silence fell between them.

Then, softly, she continued.

“After I left Villanueva Tower, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t think you’d want to be involved.”

“You really thought I wouldn’t care?”

“No, I knew you would. But I also knew you’d try to control it. I didn’t want my son to be a PR problem or a scandal to be managed by your legal team.”

That cut deep.

“So they’re mine?”

She hesitated.

“One of them is. The other two… I adopted. We’re a family. I raised them with love, not with your name or your wealth.”

Basti leaned on the railing, stunned.

He had been chasing mergers and billion-peso deals, thinking that was success—only to realize that a woman he once loved had been building something far greater: a family, all on her own.

He looked at her again, the tension in his shoulders softening.

“I’m not here to cause trouble, Althea. I’m not here to take anything.
I just want to know him… if you’ll allow me.”

She studied him for a long time. Her eyes, once filled with fire, now held something quieter. Sadder. Stronger.

“Then come to dinner tomorrow. No suits. No company car. Just… Basti.