All Chapters of Byline of My Heart: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Ang unang beses na nakita ko si Sebastian Romano, hindi ko alam kung headline na ba iyon o simula ng pagkawasak ko. Jackpot ba na natagpuan ko sya dahil isa itong malaki at maingay na balitang isisiwalat ko. Ngunit buhay ko ang nakataya rito.Nasa loob ako ng lumang bar sa dulo ng Pier 9. Isang lugar na amoy alak, usok, at mga sikreto na hindi kailanman isusulat sa dyaryo. Hindi dapat ako nandoon. Pero iyon ang problema sa trabaho ko bilang isang journalist reporter, lagi akong napupunta sa mga lugar na bawal, delikado, at puno ng kasinungalingan.Kabado man, natatakot, kailangan kong maging matapang because this is the field and nature of work I chose. Ito yung pinag-aralan ko ng ilang taon and this is my dream. My passion. Ang magbalita, magpalaganap ng katotohanan.“Isla Carter,” bulong ko sa sarili ko, mahigpit na hawak ang maliit kong notebook. Isang tanong lang. Isang quote lang. Tapos lumabas ka na.Pero hindi iyon ang nangyari.Tahimik ang bar, parang huminto ang oras, nang pu

Sebastian’s POVI noticed her the moment she walked in.Not because she was loud, she wasn’t.Not because she tried too hard, she didn’t.That was the problem.Pier 9 is not a place for tourists, especially not at two in the morning. Everyone who steps into that bar knows exactly why they’re there. Money. Fear. Business. Silence.She carried none of those.She walked in like she was pretending to belong, and people like me live by spotting pretenders.Slim frame. Neutral clothes. Eyes that kept moving and not nervously, but intelligently. She chose a seat with a clear view of the room, back straight, posture alert. Observing.Calculating.Reporter.I didn’t need confirmation. I could smell it on her, curiosity wrapped in courage, the kind that gets people killed.“Boss,” Matteo murmured behind me, low enough that no one else could hear. “May babae. Hindi regular.”“I know,” I replied, already taking off my coat.The bar adjusted to my presence like it always did. Conversations died.

Sebastian’s POVI don’t think about women after they leave a room. That’s a rule. One of the many that keeps me alive.Attachment clouds judgment, and judgment is everything in my world.Yet the next morning before my first meeting, before my first cup of coffee, Isla Carter was already on my screen.Not by accident.“Boss,” Matteo said, placing the tablet on my desk. “Ito na yung daily reports.”I skimmed through shipments, accounts, and territory movements. Everything was running smoothly.Predictable.Controlled.Then I swiped.Security stills. Time stamps. Locations.Isla leaving Pier 9.Isla enters her apartment building.Isla bought coffee the next morning.“She left Pier 9 alone,” Matteo said. “Walang kasama. Sinunod ang utos mo.”Good.I stood and walked toward the windows, the city stretched below me like a chessboard. People moved thinking they were free. They never were.“Her routine?” I asked.“Same pa rin,” Matteo replied. “Office sa umaga. Coffee shop sa kanto. Uwi befo

I don’t lose sleep.That’s another rule. Sleep is for men who don’t carry lists of names in their heads, people who crossed me, people I buried, people I spared for reasons I don’t explain.But that night, after dropping Isla off, sleep stayed far away.I stood by the window of my penthouse, city lights blinking like signals I’d learned to read years ago. Somewhere down there, Isla Carter was probably replaying our conversation, dissecting every word the way journalists do.She would write again.I exhaled slowly and reached for my phone.“Matteo,” I said the moment he answered.“Boss?” antok pa ang boses. “May problema ba?”“Yes,” I replied. “And no. Get up.”A pause. Then a sigh. “Sige na nga. Ano’ng kailangan?”“Double her coverage.”“Ayos,” he said immediately. “Pero boss…di ba sabi mo low-profile lang?”“It still is,” I said. “She doesn’t know.”“Eh ikaw?” Matteo asked. “Mukhang alam mo na lahat.”I ignored that.“Two men,” I continued. “Unmarked. No contact. No tails she can fee

Isla’s POVAlam kong hina-hunting na ako ni Sebastian after I received an invitation.Hindi text.Hindi tawag.Isang sobre, maayos ang tiklop, iniwan sa front desk ng apartment ko at walang pangalan ng sender. Pero kilala ko na ang istilo.Dinner. 8:00 PM.La Torre. Private room.—SI scoffed, mababa at walang saya.So this is how you negotiate, Sebastian Romano?All day, pinilit kong magtrabaho pero paulit-ulit bumabalik sa isip ko ang imbitasyon.Hindi ito date.Hindi rin ito threat dahil hindi direkta. Isa itong pause. Isang attempt na pigilan ako bago ko tuluyang banggitin ang pangalan niya sa papel.Makipagsundo.Makipag-usap.By seven-thirty, nakaayos na ako. Simple lang. Black dress, buhok na nakapusod. Hindi para magpa-impress kundi para ipaalala sa sarili ko na hindi ako natitinag ng yaman o kapangyarihan.La Torre was exactly what I expected, quiet luxury, mga ilaw na hindi sumisigaw, mga taong sanay na sa lihim. Dinala ako ng waiter sa isang private room.Nandoon na siya.