Semua Bab Guilty By Appearance: Bab 51 - Bab 60

At three in the afternoon, my phone rings on my desk while I'm filling out patient charts.The screen reads: Damien Ford. My hand freezes over the paper. He almost never calls my direct office line. I take a slow breath and press answer."Hello, Dad.""Snow." No greeting. No asking how I am or how my shift is going. His voice is sharp and businesslike, carrying a rare tone of satisfaction. "I am calling about Saturday evening.""Saturday evening?""Attorney Buenaventura sent a personal invitation to the estate this morning," my father says. "I don’t know why he invited us, but he has reserved the main table for our family—seated right beside his

I watched his tall, quiet figure standing against the dark backdrop of the rainy night.The distance between us felt heavy, but it was no longer the freezing, hostile wall of that night. It felt like a deep, painful sorrow—a private grief that Blake was carrying inside his chest, unable to let go.I moved across the room with quiet, soft footsteps. I stopped right behind him, feeling the faint warmth radiating from his body."Blake," I said softly into the quiet room. "I know why you were cold to me that night."Blake didn't turn around, but his body went completely rigid. "You don't know anything about it, Snow.""I do," I insisted gently. I stepped closer, reaching up to rest both of my small hands against his broad b

Saturday comes slow at first, then all at once.I wake before my alarm, before the sun has fully climbed over the BGC skyline. The apartment is quiet the way it only gets on weekend mornings. The traffic outside is light, and the air is still gray and soft through the curtains. I lie still for a moment with my eyes open, feeling the weight of the day ahead of me.Tonight is the gala.My chest fills up with something warm before I even sit up. I think of Blake standing at my window last night, the way his voice broke over certain words, the way he held me on the couch like he was trying to memorize the feeling of it. I do not understand everything he said. Some of it was strange, cryptic, almost like riddles. But I have decided not to chase every shadow in his words. A man carrying that much weight is allowed to speak in circles sometimes. I only know what I felt in his arms, and what I felt was real.I get up and make coffee. I stand at the kitchen counter in my socks, holding the war

Blake stands tall at the wooden podium. His dark eyes scan the room, passing the bright chandeliers, and stop directly at Table 1—on my father, my mother, and me."Tonight was advertised as a celebration of hope," Blake begins into the microphone. His deep voice echoes through the silent ballroom, clear and chillingly calm. "It was advertised as a night to raise money for innocent children. But before we open our wallets, we must talk about the truth. We must talk about what happens when privileged people commit terrible acts and hide behind their names."An uncomfortable silence falls over the room.Beside me, my father’s brows pull down in irritation. He whispers softly to my mother, "What is he doing? This is supposed to be a charity presentation."My mother frowns, holding her wine glass mid-air. Neither of them knows anything about what Blake is talking about. They sat here tonight believing this was purely an honored invitation for our family."Six months ago," Blake continues,

The holding cell at the police station smelled of rust, cheap floor cleaner, and old rain.I sat on the edge of a narrow wooden bench, my hands folded tightly in my lap. The midnight-blue silk dress—the one I had ironed so carefully yesterday afternoon while dreaming of a new start—was now wrinkled, cold, and stained with dried tears. My grandmother’s pearl earrings felt heavy on my ears, small pieces of a life that felt a hundred years away.Outside the small high window, the gray morning light of Metro Manila was just beginning to break over the rooftops.I could hear the muffled noise from the street below. Dozens of press vans were parked along the curb. Camera crews, news anchors, and curious onlookers had gathered outside the station gates since four o'clock in the morning. Every time a door