Ion chose the location carefully. Not his office, not the Pelaez mansion—somewhere private, quiet, removed from the noise of the city and the prying eyes of media. A small café on the outskirts of Cagayan de Oro, tucked away near the waterfront, far from cameras, reporters, and unnecessary witnesses. He didn’t want chaos. He didn’t want headlines. He only wanted the truth, and he wanted it without interference.
Kaye Pelaez arrived alone. She wore a simple black dress, no makeup, no effort to charm, no attempt to hide the strain etched across her features. Her eyes were red-rimmed, heavy with sleepless nights and fear, and she looked smaller somehow, fragile against the weight of the secrets she carried. She sat across from Ion, her hands folded tightly in her lap, trembling despite her at
