The wheels of the private charter touched down with a smooth hiss at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. The early evening air was thick with Manila's familiar tropical heaviness, the scent of burnt fuel and distant fried street food creeping into the runway breeze.
As the Narumi family disembarked, one by one, exhaustion showed in every slow step. Jamie yawned behind her palm. Stephanie pulled her hoodie over her head. Anthony dragged his backpack like it weighed more than his entire GPA.
Conrad, trailing just behind them, clutched a slim envelope in his right hand. He tucked it carefully into the inner pocket of his tan blazer—his expression unusually tight, brow furrowed as if replaying a chess game he hadn't won.
Waiting at the foot of the stairs stood a man in a crisp navy suit, black tie, and a pristine white handkerchief folded into his lapel. His face was stone, but the golden lapel pin gave him away.
"Arthur Sarte's secretary," Conrad said dryly, adjusting his cuff. "The one who answers two weeks late when asked for a coffee schedule."
The secretary blinked. Then stood silently for nearly a minute.
"...Yes," he finally answered.
Conrad gave a single curt nod and took the thick envelope handed to him. Its wax seal bore the unmistakable emblem of the Marino clan.
Kako approached, her heels clacking lightly on the tarmac. Her blouse fluttered slightly in the breeze. "You feeling okay?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Fine," Conrad replied, though the twitch at the edge of his jaw suggested otherwise.
"Envelope from the Marinos?"
"Yeah," he said, watching the black Marino van pull up across the lot. "They asked me to come straight to the mansion. Former President Karl. And Senator Riho."
Her eyebrows lifted. "You sure you want to go?"
He held her gaze. "Yes."
Kako paused, scanning his face for signs of doubt, but found only weariness. She exhaled.
"All right," she said gently. "I'll take the kids home. You be safe, Conrad."
He leaned in and placed a quick kiss on her forehead—firm, not lingering.
"I'll call you," he said, already walking away.
As he reached the XM commuter car waiting nearby, the driver popped out and opened the back door. Conrad climbed in without another word. The door shut softly, the vehicle pulling away with a quiet hum.
Jamie glanced over her shoulder as the van disappeared into traffic. "Where's Dad going?" she asked, adjusting her backpack.
Kako smoothed her skirt and shielded her eyes from the low sun. "Your guess is as good as mine," she muttered.
The wind caught the loose end of her scarf. For a second, she watched the road as if expecting it to bring answers.
It didn't.
Not yet.
-----
The front door of the Narumi penthouse swung open with a heavy thud.
Anthony rushed in first, dropping his backpack carelessly onto the floor. "Finally," he muttered, kicking off his sneakers.
Jamie and Stephanie followed behind, slower, their faces pale with fatigue from the flight and something else—a creeping unease none of them wanted to voice.
They collapsed onto the living room couch as Kako walked briskly to the TV remote and flicked on the flat screen. The room lit up with the familiar glow of a news anchor's grave expression.
A blood-red banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen:
BREAKING NEWS
Former Vice Mayor and businessman Dr. Ray Medrano arrested for frustrated murder and estafa.
Former Mayor Conrad Narumi now wanted for arson and attempted homicide.
The volume of the TV dropped into silence, but the newsroom's audio still crackled—a stunned reporter repeating the words with disbelief.
Jamie's breath caught. "Mom... Dad?"
Stephanie blinked, pulled out her phone, and opened her apps. "It's everywhere," she whispered. "Twitter, Facebook, even Reddit."
Kako didn't speak. Her hand flew to her purse, pulling out her phone with precise urgency.
"Conrad. Answer."
She paced in tight circles, her voice clipped and sharp. "Conrad, they've arrested Ray. And you—you've got a warrant for arson and attempted homicide."
Her grip on the phone whitened her knuckles.
On the other end, Conrad's voice came through—calm, but taut. "Don't worry about me. I'll find a way. Someone higher is pulling the strings. This was never just about the Pangitarium."
"Who did this?" Kako hissed.
"A fat bastard who wants to be mayor," Conrad answered.
The line went dead.
Kako stared at the blank screen, her face hardening. No fear—only fire.
------
Anthony poked at a bowl of arroz caldo. "Mom, what should we do now?"
"They're after Daddy," Jamie whispered.
Kako set down the emptied bowl. She looked at Anthony, her gaze steel. "Nothing. You worry about homework. And, Anthony," she added, softer but firm, "focus on your teenage life. One-night stands or chores—whatever makes you feel normal."
Anthony's jaw dropped, eyes wide.
Jamie flushed.
Stephanie wrinkled her nose. "Mom..."
Kako sighed, voice gentler. "I mean—grown-up stuff, Anthony. Now you know why your father had to leave earlier."
Jamie took a deep breath. "We understand."
------
Kako swept into a conference room where two high-powered lawyers awaited her. Crisp suits, solemn expressions—their files heavy on the mahogany table.
She sat firmly. "Conrad will be vindicated. He didn't do it."
A defense attorney adjusted her glasses. "We're preparing the motions her honor will need. Challenging jurisdiction, pointing out procedural flaws. The Philippine Supreme Court... international pressure."
Kako nodded. "Good. I want his name cleared before this turns into a national joke."
Another attorney looked grave. "This case—Pangitarium explosion and other allegations—they'll try to paint Conrad as the mastermind. We need authoritative expert testimony on structure maintenance, media clips showing Conrad intervening to rescue kids—"
"Do it," she said. "And no half-measures."
The lawyers glanced at each other. "Understood, Madam Narumi."
Kako took a deep breath. "Ensure the public statement says the Narumis welcome the investigation, but do not—repeat—do not mention politics."
They nodded.
------
The morning sun had barely crested the rooftops of Ayala Heights when flashing red and blue lights painted the grand Medrano estate in urgent color. Sirens wailed down the empty avenue, waking neighbors and scattering birds from trimmed hedges. Black SUVs lined the circular driveway, officers spilling out like shadows.
Inside, Bernadette Medrano stood at the foot of the grand staircase, dressed in an emerald silk robe, her lips pressed into a line of fury. As if on cue, she flung open the carved mahogany double doors and stormed outside.
"My husband isn't a criminal!" she shouted, her voice cracking across the courtyard like a whip.
Camera crews, already gathering at the front gate, zoomed in as the media frenzy began. Police officers tensed but held formation.
Standing at the front of the operation, wearing a bulletproof vest over a barong, was Chief of Police Jose Suansing. He stepped forward, calm and implacable.
"Ma'am, we're under instruction to bring in your husband for questioning. You need to surrender him."
Bernadette's eyes narrowed. "You? You're Conrad's best friend! You think I don't see through this?! This is personal!"
Jose kept his voice even. "Conrad Narumi also has a warrant out. He's a fugitive, ma'am."
A murmur spread through the small crowd of onlookers.
The tension broke as Ray Medrano appeared at the doorway behind his wife. His silver hair was slightly disheveled, his expression heavy but composed. He wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a leather wristwatch—like a man headed to a board meeting, not to jail.
"Bernadette," Ray said softly, touching her shoulder.
She turned to him, already shaking her head. "No. You're not going. This is humiliating."
"I will face the charges," Ray said. "Running would only make it worse."
Jose stepped forward. "Sir, we're placing you under arrest for frustrated murder and estafa. You have the right to remain silent—anything you say can be used against you in court—"
Ray nodded as Jose recited the Miranda rights. With surprising calm, he turned and placed his hands behind his back. An officer stepped in, clipped on the handcuffs, and gently guided him forward.
"Ray!" Bernadette wailed, wrapping her arms tightly around her husband's waist. She clung as though letting go would mean more than just losing him—it would unravel the carefully constructed empire they'd built.
Ray leaned in slightly. "You're a brilliant lawyer. I'm sure you'll find a way out of this."
Bernadette's perfectly lined eyes began to streak with mascara. "This is Conrad's doing. That bastard!"
"It's bigger than Conrad," Ray said. "And if it's political, we'll need every ounce of your anger and intelligence in the courtroom."
She cried harder. Behind them, Bernardine stood frozen on the steps in a silk dressing gown, her phone clutched tightly in her manicured hand. Brendan stared wordlessly, adjusting his oversized glasses, the wheels in his brain clearly turning.
Bernard, however, stood furthest back, half in shadow. His expression was unreadable.
As the officers led Ray away, Bernadette followed, clutching his sleeve until the very last second before the car door was slammed shut. The engine rumbled to life.
"Ray!" she screamed.
The convoy began to roll away.
The courtyard grew quiet, save for the clicking of shutters and the occasional cough of a reporter's cameraman.
Bernadette stood alone now, her hands trembling. "Get me the DOJ," she barked at her assistant. "Get me our PR team. Get me the goddamn Ombudsman if you have to."
In the upper windows of the Medrano mansion, Bernard turned and stepped back into the hallway. His shoulders slumped, he ran a hand through his thick hair, already dreading the next round of whispers at school, the inevitable taunts, the memes.
And worst of all—Jamie's face, in his mind, not judging him... but breaking for him.
------
The sun had barely begun its descent behind the skyline when thunderous banging echoed through the Narumi penthouse. The solid mahogany door rattled in its frame with each furious knock.
Kako turned from the kitchen island, brows furrowed. She already knew that knock.
A shrill voice pierced the hallway.
"Kako! You old bitch!" Bernadette's voice was unmistakable—throaty with fury, shaking with pride. "You've gone too far!"
The door flew open.
In stormed Bernadette Medrano, her heels clicking like gunfire across the marble floor. Her lipstick was slightly smudged, and the clutch in her hand trembled from how tightly she gripped it. Behind her, Bernard and Bernardine hurried in, both wide-eyed.
Kako stood at the entryway with arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on her face.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kako asked, voice calm but sharp as broken glass. "You're making a scene. This is a private residence—not a barangay hall."
"Don't play dumb!" Bernadette spat, stepping forward. "I know you're behind Ray's arrest!"
Kako blinked. Her arms dropped to her sides. "Are you out of your mind?" she asked, her tone now cutting through the tension. "Conrad has a warrant out, too. Why would I orchestrate anything?"
Bernadette's nostrils flared. "Because you have every reason. You've always hated me—for the botched zoning deal, for Ray running against your husband, and—let's be real—for the fact that Conrad was in love with me!"
Kako let out a dry laugh. "That... would make me shallow." She stepped forward now, shoulders squared. "You want to know why I despise you, Bernadette? It's because you climb every social ladder by stepping on people. You manipulate, steal, gaslight—and somehow manage to make yourself the victim in every version."
Bernadette raised a finger, trembling. "You—"
Kako didn't even flinch. "Remember who you are. A lawyer. Everything you say and do is being watched. Threatening me? Barging into my home uninvited? This won't just hurt your case. It will bury it."
"You bitch!" Bernadette hissed.
Kako leaned closer, tilting her head. "I will be, if you don't get your ass—and your entourage—out of my building."
She stepped back and, with one hand, slammed the heavy front door shut, cutting off Bernadette's sputtering reply.
As Kako turned around, the hallway lights flickered gently above. She froze.
Jamie, Anthony, and Stephanie stood silently in the corridor, watching everything.
Jamie's voice broke the silence. "Mom..."
Kako straightened her shoulders and let out a long sigh. "I'll live with that," she muttered, brushing past them and walking toward her room.
Halfway down the hallway, she paused.
"Bona!" she called out.
Their long-time maid peeked out from the pantry, wiping her hands on a towel. **"Yes, ma'am?"
"If those people show up again, have Droopy bite them."
Bona nodded seriously. "With pleasure, madam."
Stephanie followed her mother to the door of the bedroom. "Mom, are you okay?"
Kako rested her hand against the doorframe and looked over her shoulder. Her voice was quieter now. "Honestly? No. Not at all."
She let out a breath and looked up at the ceiling. "If I don't fix this mess, your brother Charlie and your sister Gabriella will fly back and solve it themselves."
Anthony raised a brow. "Is that... bad?"
Kako half-smiled, eyes tired. "Charlie and Gabriella don't solve things gently. You know how they are."
Jamie walked over, her tone hesitant. "Do you think Bernadette will try anything worse?"
Kako turned fully toward her kids now. "She's desperate. When the rich and powerful lose control, they lash out. She still thinks this is some petty feud between two women fighting over a man and a mayoral seat."
She gave a bitter chuckle.
"She hasn't realized yet that what's coming has nothing to do with either."
Meanwhile, just outside in the hallway, Bernard stood still—his hand resting against the elevator panel, frozen in place.
He had followed his mother there, hoping to keep her calm. But now... he'd seen it all.
Kako's words echoed in his ears. Every barb, every truth, every warning. He didn't move.
Then came Jamie's voice, muffled through the door. He stepped back, not ready to confront anything—or anyone.
He quietly pressed the elevator button.
As the doors opened, Bernardine looked at him. "Well? That was dramatic."
Bernard exhaled. "I didn't know it was this bad."
His sister looked down at her phone. "Better buckle up, Bernard. Because it's going to get worse."
They stepped into the elevator.
The doors closed.
-------
The basement parking garage beneath the Narumi Penthouse was quiet—eerily so. A flickering overhead light buzzed faintly, its cold white glow casting long shadows across polished concrete. In one corner, Bernard's black Land Cruiser idled silently, its tinted windows fogged with the slow breath of waiting.
Jamie appeared from the elevator, her shoulders hunched beneath her hoodie, eyes darting. Her steps echoed as she moved quickly across the floor, sneakers scuffing the pavement. She opened the passenger side door and climbed in without a word, the soft thump of the door sealing them into their shared silence.
Bernard turned to her instantly.
"Jamie..."
She didn't respond right away—only fell into his arms, her head burying into his shoulder.
"I just don't know what to do," she whispered. Her voice cracked, raw with exhaustion.
Bernard wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, like she might dissolve if he let go. Her body trembled slightly, not from cold, but from something more fragile—fear.
"Jamie," he said gently.
"I'm torn," she murmured. "If we keep seeing each other, Mom might explode again. She's under so much pressure... and if she breaks, the whole family collapses."
She pulled back to look at him. Her eyes were red, her face pale. "And I'm afraid of what happens if Charlie-niisan and Gabbi-nee come back."
Bernard blinked. "Wait—what? You have older siblings?"
Jamie gave a short, bitter laugh. "You thought I was the eldest? No. Charlie Dean and Gabriella Marie. Both out of the country. But if they come back to handle this—" her voice dipped—"they won't be as forgiving. They were trained for war zones, not telenovelas."
Bernard exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. "So what happens to us now?"
Jamie looked down at her hands. They were trembling. "Maybe... it's better if we cool this off. At least for now. Before this hurts anyone else."
Bernard's mouth opened, then closed again.
"But before that," she said softly, "just one last time—I love you."
He looked at her—really looked. And without a word, he leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't desperate at first. It was slow, like a prayer—lips that met like they knew the world was about to fall apart but needed to remember how love felt before it did. Bernard's hands cradled her face as Jamie pressed against him, holding on tighter.
The kiss deepened. The pain, the fear, the unspoken grief—everything poured into that moment. Jamie tugged gently at the collar of his shirt, her fingers skimming his collarbone. Bernard responded, his fingers sliding to the back of her neck, brushing her hair away.
Their breaths grew heavier. The air inside the car became thick, fogging the windows even more. The soft hum of the engine was the only sound, save for their whispered names.
"Jamie..." Bernard murmured against her skin, lips grazing her cheek, her neck.
"I just want to feel... normal," she said, barely audible.
He held her tighter.
There were no words for the pain they shared. So they used silence, touch, breath—trying to bottle something fragile before it shattered completely.
The kiss broke just once, both of them breathless.
"I love you, Jamie Narumi," Bernard said, eyes locked on hers.
She smiled through her tears, nodding. "And I love you, Bernard Medrano. Always."
They rested against each other, foreheads touching. No promises. No timelines. Just presence.
Eventually, Jamie reached for the door handle.
"Let's pretend we're still kids," she whispered, "just sneaking out for fast food."
Bernard laughed quietly. "I'd trade all of this chaos for a bowl of siomai with you."
She opened the door, and the cold air hit her face like a slap.
"I'll see you when I see you," she said.
"Even if I'm not supposed to," Bernard replied.
She stepped out, closed the door gently, and walked back toward the elevator without turning around.
Inside the SUV, Bernard watched her until she disappeared into the building. Then he leaned back, wiped a tear from his cheek, and turned the engine off.