Semua Bab A Forbidden Night with a Stranger (English) : Bab 61 - Bab 70

THE people of Malaya Village were startled by flames erupting from the construction site. It was barely three in the morning, and most were still fast asleep. Fortunately, CaptainLarry had woken early. Seeing what was happening, he shouted to rouse everyone to put out the fire. They worked together to douse the blaze—they knew if they didn’t, it would spread fast and cause even greater harm. More structures would burn, and the flames could reach the houses; everything would be gone, for every home was built of light materials. “Hurry and fetch water! Move quickly!” Captain Larry called out. If only he weren’t getting older, he would have helped carry water himself, but instead he settled for guiding the younger men and boys. “Yes, Captain Larry!” They obeyed at once, joining forces to fight the fire. It took them over an hour to get the flames under control. The old man’s heart sank. Though they’d stopped the fire from spreading, half the building already lay in ruins. The constru

THE dust had barely settled on the dirt road when Alas slowed the car to a stop. Behind them, the police vehicle rumbled to a halt, and as the engines fell silent, the sound of voices rose from the village edge. Doors creaked open one by one, and people stepped out—farmers with calloused hands, elders leaning on carved sticks, young ones peeking from behind their parents’ backs—all gathering in a quiet, wary crowd. There were no waves, no warm greetings like before, only sharp, guarded stares that cut through the bright afternoon air. Alas and Yna stepped out first, their shoulders set but their hearts heavy. He stepped forward, his voice steady but soft, so everyone could hear without sounding like he was making demands. “Good afternoon to all of you,” he said. “We haven’t come to push our way in or argue. We’re here to bring whatever help we can, and we’ve brought the police to look properly into what happened. We want to get to the truth just as much as you do.” No one moved cl

ANOTHER crisis greeted Alas as soon as he woke up. Lydia called him right away to break the news. He shot out of bed, rushing to check the headlines. Photos of him throwing punches at Janus Domingo were spreading fast across social media. He could barely believe it—who had leaked these pictures? He scrolled through one hateful comment after another. Strangers were blindly believing posts from fake accounts, sharing them everywhere, and painting him as the one who started the fight. His blood boiled before the sun had even fully risen. How did someone manage to take photos of their brawl yesterday? Were there reporters hiding nearby? If not, who was behind this? Janus must be burning with hatred to tell such blatant lies. Let him gloat while he can—he’d successfully dragged Alas’s name through the mud. Alas clenched his fists, then stood and headed for the shower, desperate to wash away his rage and frustration. “Argh! Who’s doing this to me?” he shouted, pounding his fists again

THE phone’s sharp ring cut through the quiet hum of the afternoon, and Alas’s hand trembled slightly as he answered—he’d been checking his device every few minutes since word first reached them that Captain Larry had shut their project down for good. When he heard Yna’s voice, his shoulders dropped an inch, but the relief turned straight to worry the moment she spoke. “Alas, I’m heading to Malaya Village now,” she said, like she was telling him she was just stepping out for bread, not walking straight into the heart of the tension that had torn them apart for weeks. “I need to speak to Captain Larry again, properly this time. I truly believe I can make him see reason. I know he’s not turned hard on us—he’s just scared, and I understand exactly why he feels he has no choice but to close his doors.” Alas gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles blanched. He knew Captain Larry better than most; the old chief had welcomed him like a son when he first arrived in the valley, and h

THE morning sun spilled through the tall windows of Alas’s office, gilding the polished mahogany panels and catching faint dust motes dancing in the air—but instead of bringing warmth or hope, it cast a harsh, unflinching light over the nightmare he had tried so hard to deny. His usually immaculate desk was buried under mountains of documents: balance sheets blotted red, dwindling bank statements, and contracts that had once held so much promise, now nothing more than ink on paper. He checked every figure himself, cross-referenced every ledger, and called his accountants three separate times to verify the numbers—but the truth remained unyielding and absolute. Dela Merzcid Real Estate was BANKRUPT. Every single investor who had poured millions of pesos into the Malaya project had pulled out—all of them, without exception. Their lawyers sent nearly identical formal letters, hiding behind vague, cold phrases like “irreconcilable differences in business philosophy” and “serious concer