Chapter 3
1287 Words
The courthouse steps were chaos. Cameras flashed like lightning, microphones shoved into every direction, voices overlapping in a frenzy.
“Governor Vergara, how do you respond to the corruption allegations?”
“Selena Alcaraz, may ebidensya ka ba, o pulitika lang ito?”
“Are the two of you connected personally? May nagsasabi na matagal na kayong magkakilala—”
Selena kept her chin high, ignoring the barrage as she pushed through the crowd. Pero si Damien—syempre—he thrived in it.
He turned toward the cameras, smile sharp and practiced. “These accusations are unfounded. The truth will come out, as it always does. My record speaks for itself—I’ve done nothing but serve this province and its people.”
Flashbulbs went wild. He looked every inch the perfect leader, his voice warm, commanding, parang idolo ng masa.
Then, as if on cue, one reporter shouted, “But what about Selena Alcaraz, Governor? She claims to have evidence.”
Damien’s eyes flicked toward her. Hindi siya nagpatinag. “Ms. Alcaraz is… passionate. I respect her commitment, even if misdirected.” He gave a light chuckle, sending a ripple through the crowd. “Siguro, determination ang napagkamalang ebidensya. I’ll let the court decide which matters more.”
The implication was subtle, pero lason. Doubt spread instantly among the reporters, scribbled into headlines before Selena could open her mouth.
Her temper burned, pero pinilit niyang manatiling kalmado. Losing composure here would be exactly what Damien wanted.
So she stepped forward, microphones turning in her direction. Her voice was cool, controlled. “The Governor is right about one thing—the truth will come out. At kapag lumabas na iyon, wala nang charm o political influence ang makakapagligtas sa kanya.”
Gasps, scribbles, another storm of questions. Pero Selena didn’t stay—dumiretso siya sa sasakyan, sliding into her waiting car before anyone could trap her further.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Damien watching her. That same smile lingered on his lips, pero ibang kuwento ang nasa mga mata niya—mapanganib, mapanghamon.
He was turning the media into his weapon. At alam ni Selena, kung hindi siya mag-iingat, ipipinta siya hindi bilang mandirigma ng hustisya… kundi bilang babaeng sugatan at may personal na vendetta.
The game had left the courtroom. At si Damien Vergara, laging naglalaro para manalo.
Selena sat stiffly in the back of the car, the leather seat groaning under her clenched fists. Sa labas, ang boses ng mga reporter ay parang multo—mas malakas pa kaysa sa trapiko at kaysa sa tanong ng driver kung saan sila tutungo.
“The office,” she replied curtly, jaw tight.
Already, she could imagine the headlines. Governor Vergara dismisses accusations. Selena Alcaraz emotional in court. Tatalupan nila ang bawat salita, bawat kilos, hanggang siya ay ipakita bilang mahina, hysterical.
Her phone buzzed relentlessly—calls from colleagues, texts from journalists demanding a statement, at ilang anonymous numbers na nag-iiwan ng pagbabanta. She ignored them all, isinuksok ang phone sa bag.
She needed focus. She needed calm.
Pero ang katahimikan, parang luxury kapag si Damien Vergara ang kalaban.
Pagdating niya sa opisina, staff were already gathered around the television in the lobby. Every channel replayed clips of Damien’s interview on the courthouse steps. That easy smile, that polished voice, at kung paano niya binanggit ang pangalan ni Selena na parang papuri at insulto sa parehong hininga.
“…Ms. Alcaraz is passionate. I respect her commitment, even if misdirected…”
Selena clenched her teeth. Misdirected? Isang salita lang iyon pero bubusisiin ng mga talk show, isusulat sa mga kolum, ipapabulong sa mga hapag-kainan.
“Ma’am…” one of her paralegals hesitated. “The governor’s team already scheduled a press conference tonight. Nakakakuha na siya ng simpatya. Nawawala sa usapan ang mga magsasaka.”
Selena nodded stiffly, kahit kumukulo ang dugo niya. That was Damien’s strategy—ilibing ang katotohanan sa ilalim ng charm at political theatrics hanggang makalimutan ng publiko kung ano ba talaga ang kaso.
“Let them have their conference,” she said, her tone clipped but steady. “Bukas, tayo naman.”
Her staff exchanged nervous looks, pero hindi siya natinag.
Hindi niya hahayaang kontrolin ni Damien ang kwento.
That evening, the press conference aired live. Ayaw man niyang manood, she knew ignorance was dangerous. She stood in her office, arms crossed, staring at the large screen.
Damien stood at a podium draped with the provincial seal, flanked by politicians, businessmen, even priests and community leaders. Lahat nakangiti, lahat tumatango habang siya’y nagsasalita.
“My fellow citizens,” Damien began, smooth as silk, “our province has endured much. And now, some wish to tarnish our progress with accusations and slander.”
Sympathetic murmurs filled the room.
He spread his hands wide, picture of humility. “I welcome investigation. I welcome scrutiny. Pero hindi ako mananahimik kapag ginagamit ang kasinungalingan para hatiin tayo. Look at what we have built together—roads, schools, hospitals. This is not corruption. This is service.”
Applause thundered.
Selena’s nails dug into her palms. Service? Pinatalsik niya ang mga pamilya, ninakaw ang bukid, at ngayon siya pa ang bayani?
Then came the final blow. That infuriating smile. “Even Ms. Alcaraz, though misguided, has my respect. Her fire reminds me why I serve. And I hope, in time, she will see the truth.”
Another wave of applause.
Her staff shifted uneasily, glancing at her. They expected her to falter. Pero Selena only turned off the screen with a sharp click of the remote.
“Bukas,” she said coldly, “susunugin natin ang halo niya.”
The next morning, Selena stood before her own podium. The press swarmed again, cameras flashing. Unlike Damien, wala siyang mga pari o negosyante sa likod niya. Only the displaced farmers, their families, their tired but hopeful faces.
“Yesterday, Governor Vergara called my evidence a lie,” Selena began, her voice ringing clear. “Ngayon, hayaan nating magsalita ang mga biktima mismo.”
One by one, families stepped forward. Mga nanay na nagkwento ng eviction notices na dumating sa madaling-araw. Mga tatay na naglahad ng bulldozers na biglang sumira ng bukirin. Mga batang kumakapit sa mga binti ng magulang, umiiyak habang nagsasalita.
Every story raw, unpolished, undeniable.
“This,” Selena said firmly, “is what corruption looks like. Hindi istatistika. Hindi tsismis. Mga mukha. Mga buhay. At kahit anong talumpati o photo op, hindi mabubura ang katotohanan.”
The cameras zoomed in. Every trembling hand, every broken voice was captured.
It was a devastating counterstrike.
Pero alam ni Selena—Damien would not take it quietly.
Hours later, her phone rang. No caller ID. She hesitated, then answered.
“You’ve gotten bolder,” Damien’s voice drawled, mababa, mapanukso. “Parading them like martyrs. Clever, Selena.”
Her pulse quickened, pero pinilit niyang gawing bakal ang boses niya. “Clever enough to corner you. The truth is out, Damien. Hindi mo na matatabunan ng media circus.”
He chuckled, dark and unbothered. “Still don’t get it, do you? Truth is fragile. Perception is power. At sa huli, perception ang nananalo.”
“Not this time.”
A pause. Then his breath, warm even through the line. “You’re playing with fire, querida. At alam mong kapag nilaro mo ang demonyo… laging may kapalit.”
The line went dead.
Selena lowered the phone slowly, her hand trembling despite her resolve. She told herself it was anger, not fear.
Pero sa kaibuturan niya, alam niyang nagsisimula pa lang ang digmaan—at si Damien Vergara ay hindi ordinaryong kalaban.
He was a storm, a shadow, a temptation she could not afford.
At bukas, muli silang magkikita sa korte.
- Writer
