Chapter 02

“Lieutenant, the senator’s daughter was looking for you earlier.”

Dylan was pulled out of his thoughts by his coworker’s voice. He looked up, brows knitting slightly. “Where is she? Why was she looking for me?” he asked.

Sergeant Estrella lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “She ran into Attorney Fontanilla here, so they talked outside. I’m not sure where they went, but they just left,” he explained, earning a nod from Dylan.

“I’ll follow. I’ll just call Attorney first,” Dylan said, referring to his uncle, Attorney Damon Fontanilla. “Call me if anything comes up. Did Senator Clemente’s daughter visit her father or—”

“No, Lieutenant. She was really just asking for you. Then Attorney Fontanilla arrived, so they talked instead. I didn’t get to ask why she came since she didn’t even look in on her father,” Sergeant Estrella answered again.

Dylan nodded. “You, Elijah, and Aidan handle things here for now. I won’t be long.”

Sergeant Creed Estrella nodded back and jokingly gave a salute. “Copy, boss.”

Dylan couldn’t help but shake his head at that. He set his bag down and was about to leave when Creed spoke again, making him pause.

“Lieutenant… were you with Ma’am Brielle yesterday?”

Dylan’s brows immediately drew together. He looked at Creed, confused. “No. Why?”

“Ah—nothing. Maybe I was just mistaken,” Creed said quickly, shaking his head.

Still puzzled, Dylan brushed it off. Maybe Creed had seen Brielle with her male friends—or her bodyguards. With a small shrug, he headed out of the police station.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his uncle’s number. It hadn’t even rung long when the call was answered, making Dylan let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Dylan,” his uncle greeted from the other line.

“Tito,” Dylan replied. “The guys said Senator Clemente’s daughter stopped by. Did you talk to her?”

“Oh, about that—yes. We’re talking now. Are you still at the station? We’re just nearby if you want to come.”

“Yes, Tito. I was actually about to follow you. Where are you?”

He scanned his surroundings, trying to guess where they might be. Almost on cue, his eyes landed on the coffee shop a few meters away from the station. “Coffee shop, Tito?” he added.

“Yes, that’s right. Hurry—Senator Clemente’s daughter is about to leave.”

There was a brief pause, and Dylan thought the call was over.

“Are you busy, Miss Clemente?” he heard his uncle ask someone on the other end.

“Not really,” came a soft reply.

Dylan frowned slightly.

He straightened. “I’m on my way, Tito.”

“All right. We’ll wait for you here,” his uncle said before ending the call.

Dylan took a deep breath and slipped his phone into his pocket. He adjusted his uniform before crossing the street toward the coffee shop where his uncle and Senator Clemente’s daughter were waiting. Maybe—just maybe—she could help with the case. The chances of her volunteering as a witness were slim, but still… there was always a possibility.

He reached the coffee shop quickly and spotted Attorney Fontanilla seated toward the back. Across from him sat a woman, her back turned to Dylan. He couldn’t see her face, so he walked closer.

“You’ve been here long, Tito?” he asked as he took the seat beside him.

He froze the moment he saw the woman’s face.

She was clearly younger than him—probably around the same age as his girlfriend. Twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven. She wore a white blouse, her long curly hair loose around her shoulders. She looked… innocent. So far removed from the kind of woman his girlfriend was.

“You must be Senator Clemente’s daughter,” Dylan said. “I’m Lieutenant Dylan Fontanilla. I’m guessing you already know my name, since you were looking for me earlier?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on him, making him suddenly self-conscious. After a moment, she nodded and looked away. “I—I’m Kaia Clemente,” she introduced herself, her voice unsteady.

Dylan nodded. “They said you were looking for me. Why? I assume this is about your father?”

Kaia nodded. “I just wanted to ask if my d-dad is really going to jail. Is there… no way to fix this?” she asked, clearly nervous.

Dylan sighed, disappointment settling in. From her tone, it sounded like she was about to ask for mercy on her father’s behalf. He shook his head. “The government prosecutors have filed a plunder case against your father, Miss Clemente. Billions of dollars in misused congressional funds. Billions,” he emphasized. “On top of that, he’s involved in drugs and prostitution. There’s no way out of that.”

He saw her swallow hard. It finally seemed to sink in how serious the charges were. And honestly, she looked like someone who had benefited from that stolen wealth. From her clothes alone, she screamed high maintenance. Dylan knew it was expensive when he saw it—his cousin dressed the same way.

If her father went to prison, the money would disappear. No wonder she was here.

“H-how long… how long will he be in jail? If he does get convicted, I mean?”

Dylan studied her face. She was looking down now, hands resting on the table—hands that were visibly trembling.

“Fifteen years,” his uncle answered for him. “The charges are heavy. He won’t be getting out easily—”

“Only?”

Dylan stiffened. He turned to her slowly. “What did you say?”

She smiled at him… sweet, almost too sweet. “Nothing,” she said as she stood. “He might be looking for me since I haven’t visited. Tell him I don’t plan on seeing him anymore. You can do whatever you want with him. I don’t care.”

“From the way you talk about your father, it doesn’t sound like you like him,” Dylan said, frowning. “If you do decide to testify—”

“Nah.”

She cut him off immediately. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she opened it as if looking for something. “I don’t like associating myself with people like that. I already have enough problems. I’m not adding more.”

“But—”

“You were hoping for something, right?” she said lightly. “That I’d beg you to let my daddy walk free? God. I didn’t know police officers could be that gullible.”

“What are you talking about?” Dylan asked sharply.

She smiled and glanced around the coffee shop. “I know a journalist who saw us earlier. Good thing I acted fast, and that I’m good at pretending. Otherwise, people might think I’m a horrible daughter for wanting my daddy to rot in jail. I’m too smart to fall into their trap,” she continued calmly. “If news spreads that I tried to bribe you to free him, that’s on you. Clean it up yourselves.”

Dylan’s lips parted in shock, but before he could say anything, she picked up her expensive bag from the table.

“Call me once you’ve finally put my daddy behind bars,” she said. Then, without warning, she took his hand and slipped something into it.

Dylan gulped.

She smiled at him one last time before turning her back and walking away.

Dylan sat there, stunned.

“Damn.”

“What’s that?”

He snapped out of it when his uncle spoke, pointing at Dylan’s hand. Dylan looked down slowly.

It was a calling card.

Kaia Clemente.