Confidential

Chapter Four

The air in Manila hit her like a wall. Thick. Heavy. Familiar.

After thirteen hours on a flight that smelled faintly of reheated meals and stale coffee, Sari stepped out of Ninoy Aquino International Airport feeling the exhaustion clawing behind her eyes. Her carry-on bag was slung over one shoulder, her phone buzzing nonstop with notifications she had no intention of checking.

It had been nine years since she left this city. Nine years since she’d seen the chaos of jeepneys, the heat rising from asphalt, the noise that never seemed to stop.

And yet, somehow, everything looked the same. Only louder. Only faster.

As she walked toward the exit, she noticed it, the cluster of reporters near the arrivals gate. Cameras. Flashing lights. Voices cutting through the noise.

She didn’t think much of it at first. Manila always had its share of celebrity drama. Until she heard a familiar name being yelled over the chaos.

“Elizalde!”

Her head turned automatically.

There, surrounded by microphones and camera lenses, was a man she recognized instantly from the dozens of articles she’d read only two nights before. Matthew Elizalde, in the flesh.

Dark hair. Crisp white shirt. Charcoal slacks. He moved like he owned the floor he walked on, even as security escorted him through the terminal.

For a moment, the press of sound and motion around her seemed to dull. The man exuded a kind of arrogance that didn’t need words, it was in his walk, the tilt of his head, the way the cameras chased him like gravity itself.

“Mr. Elizalde! Is it true you’re suing Howard Doctors for twenty million dollars?”“Sir, what do you say to claims that you leaked the story yourself?”“Is Lindsay Roces really pregnant?”

Sari froze mid-step. Her pulse thudded once, sharp and low.

He didn’t answer anyone. He didn’t even flinch. He simply adjusted his sunglasses and kept walking, the corner of his mouth curving into something that might have been a smile, or maybe a warning.

Before she could stop herself, her voice came out under her breath. “Unbelievable.”

She turned away quickly, pulling her suitcase through the crowd. The last thing she needed was to be anywhere near the circus orbiting that man.

Outside, the humidity wrapped around her like a second skin. Her driver, one of her father’s clinic staff, was already waiting by a black SUV, waving her over.

“Dr. Howard!” he called. “Welcome home!”

She managed a polite nod. “Thanks, Carlo. Straight to BGC, please.”

He smiled awkwardly as he took her bag. “Yes, ma’am. Dr. Arthur and Ma’am Sylvia are waiting at the clinic.”

“Of course they are,” she muttered, sliding into the backseat.

The drive was slow, Manila traffic never changed. Cars honked. Billboards screamed luxury brands and upcoming teleseryes. The city was alive and unapologetic about it. But Sari’s mind wasn’t in the view. It was on the man she’d just seen.

Seeing him in person was different. He wasn’t just another article or scandal headline. He was composed, deliberate, dangerous in that effortless way powerful men often were. And if he truly believed her family’s clinic had leaked his private records, then this fight was going to be ugly.

By the time the car pulled into BGC, her jaw was tight and her patience already thinning. The Howard Women’s & Children’s Center looked the same from the outside, clean lines, soft colors, quiet professionalism. But inside, tension hung like humidity.

Sylvia was waiting at the entrance, eyes anxious and tired. She rushed forward the moment Sari stepped out of the car. “You’re finally here.”

Sari adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “I took the earliest flight I could. Where’s Dad?”

“In his office,” Sylvia said, lowering her voice. “He hasn’t slept much since the news broke.”

Sari gave her a look that was both soft and steady. “Neither have I.”

They walked through the clinic’s quiet hallway, the faint scent of disinfectant and anxiety hanging in the air. Nurses looked up when they saw her, whispering quietly.

When they reached her father’s office, Sylvia hesitated before knocking.

“Just so you know,” she said softly, “he’s been blaming himself. Please go easy on him.”

Sari’s eyes softened for a second. “I’m not here to blame anyone. I’m here to fix this.”

She pushed the door open.

Dr. Arthur Howard looked older than she remembered. His once-steady hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his glasses, the worry on his face unmistakable.

When he saw her, relief washed over his features. “Sari.”

She crossed the room and hugged him, brief but real. “Hi, Dad.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Then, as she pulled back, her tone shifted. Calm. Controlled. Determined.

“All right,” she said, pulling a chair closer to his desk. “Tell me everything. From the start.”