Lahat ng Kabanata ng FOR HER SAKE: Kabanata 141 - Kabanata 150

Vasquez’s POVThe house was extremely quiet now, too still for a man who’d built an empire on the sound of the continuous movement of people at his beck and call. The tick of the grandfather clock filled the air like a countdown, steady and merciless.His wife had left home on a trip and he had been able to convince her without letting on much about what was going on, to stay back there until the issue was over. She had been skeptical, very much so, as she had always been. Kind, loving and able to sight danger from miles away. She had refused him having anything to do with the supplies but he had been adamant about it and see where it got him. Up, with a very high likelihood of crashing down. Vasquez sat in the dim light of his study, the glow of the desk lamp catching the edges of the old photograph on the table. Three faces stared back at him. His mother. Mateo. Himself, younger, leaner, untouched by the kind of rot that comes with power. There was an actual smile on his face th

Mateo’s POV15 Years AgoSummer was supposed to be good that year.The Vasquez estate was loud with laughter, sunlight spilling through glass, the smell of grilled meat and expensive wine cutting through the air. Family, business partners, and associates filled the long garden table, all pretending we weren’t sitting on top of a machine built to destroy anyone who tried to leave it.It was always nice to leave all of it behind at least once in a year and focus on ourselves and the little ones. Ruby for one had loved the summer holidays, she’d talk about it all through the year then throw a tantrum whenever it was time to leave.I remember the sound of Adam Hart’s laugh, it was smaller than Vasquez’s, quieter, like a man forcing himself to enjoy a world that already tasted like regret. His wife sat beside him, elegant and warm, with that soft way of holding her daughter close even when Amelia wriggled out of her grasp to chase butterflies through the garden or just simply delve herself

Leona’s POVPresentThe hum of the servers was the kind of noise that could drive a person insane if they listened too long, soft, constant, like a living thing breathing just beneath your skin. Leona had been listening to it for hours and she was on the verge of letting it all go and shooting herself in the head.Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against the keyboard as lines of code scrolled by. At first, she thought it was a glitch. A stray process buried under the system logs. But the deeper she went, the more deliberate it looked, precise, timed, surgical. Someone was inside Amelia’s network again.And whoever it was, they knew how to hide. But this time, she was more than ready to nip them in the bud and fetch them out for Gabriel to pounce on them.She leaned closer to the screen, muttering to herself, “Come on, you ghost. Show me where you’re bleeding from.”The connection flickered, then stabilized. A pulse from Vasquez’s old encrypted servers, funneled neatly through Ameli

Kelvin’s POVThe room smelled like polished wood, old liquor, and something else, rot that perfume couldn’t hide.Kelvin had spent most of his life in rooms like this: high ceilings, heavy curtains, a chandelier that threw light like interrogation lamps. They always looked expensive, but they all felt the same, like a coffin you could walk around in.He had spoken to his father about it once, when they still used to talk, about why people with money always managed to buy the blandest things. He had laughed, a husky sound that was hard to hear these days, and had said he would come to love it. Sadly, or not, he never did. Hell, he came to hate it even more. The chandelier that stood in the middle of the room motionless when he was ‘disciplined’ for being a kid multiple times.He had wished it would drop down on him continuously and all the damn fancy lantern knew how to do was be so damn bright, it made all he saw white. He hated coming home, hated the smell of home especially now th

Kelvin’s POV1 Week LaterThe prison smelled like metal and damp air, like regret left too long to rot. He hated the fel that came with visiting a place like this. The last time he had had to was to bail out a friend who overdrank and caused a scene.Being here was like a silent reminder of how much he hated places like this. The walls hummed with quiet suffering, each echo a story that had already ended badly. His boots clicked against the floor as a guard led him and his mother down the narrow hallway.“Five minutes,” the guard said gruffly before unlocking the visitation room.His mother’s hand was trembling in his. She hadn’t stopped crying since the news broke, since Vasquez’s empire came crashing down, piece by piece, the ledgers, the arrests, the headlines. The name she once spoke with pride was now a warning whispered on TV.And behind that reinforced glass sat the man responsible for all of it.His father.Vasquez looked smaller than Kelvin remembered. The tailored suits and