"Lieutenant, the senator's daughter was looking for you earlier."

Dylan was pulled out of his thoughts by his coworker's voice. He looked up, brows knitting slightly. "Where is she? Why was she looking for me?" he asked.

Sergeant Estrella lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "She ran into Attorney Fontanilla here, so they talked outside. I'm not sure where they went, but they just left," he explained, earning a nod from Dylan.

"I'll follow. I'll just call Attorney first," Dylan said, referring to his uncle, Attorney Damon Fontanilla. "Call me if anything comes up. Did Senator Clemente's daughter visit her father or-"

"No, Lieutenant. She was really just asking for you. Then Attorney Fontanilla arrived, so they talked instead. I didn't get to ask why she came since she didn't even look in on her father," Sergeant Estrella answered again.

Dylan nodded. "You, Elijah, and Aidan handle things here for now. I won't be long."

Sergeant Creed Estrella nodded back and jokingly gave a salute. "Copy, boss."

Dylan couldn't help but shake his head at that. He set his bag down and was about to leave when Creed spoke again, making him pause.

"Lieutenant... were you with Ma'am Brielle yesterday?"

Dylan's brows immediately drew together. He looked at Creed, confused. "No. Why?"

"Ah-nothing. Maybe I was just mistaken," Creed said quickly, shaking his head.

Still puzzled, Dylan brushed it off. Maybe Creed had seen Brielle with her male friends-or her bodyguards. With a small shrug, he headed out of the police station.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his uncle's number. It hadn't even rung long when the call was answered, making Dylan let out a quiet breath of relief.

"Dylan," his uncle greeted from the other line.

"Tito," Dylan replied. "The guys said Senator Clemente's daughter stopped by. Did you talk to her?"

"Oh, about that-yes. We're talking now. Are you still at the station? We're just nearby if you want to come."

"Yes, Tito. I was actually about to follow you. Where are you?"

He scanned his surroundings, trying to guess where they might be. Almost on cue, his eyes landed on the coffee shop a few meters away from the station. "Coffee shop, Tito?" he added.

"Yes, that's right. Hurry-Senator Clemente's daughter is about to leave."

There was a brief pause, and Dylan thought the call was over.

"Are you busy, Miss Clemente?" he heard his uncle ask someone on the other end.

"Not really," came a soft reply.

Dylan frowned slightly.

He straightened. "I'm on my way, Tito."

"All right. We'll wait for you here," his uncle said before ending the call.

Dylan took a deep breath and slipped his phone into his pocket. He adjusted his uniform before crossing the street toward the coffee shop where his uncle and Senator Clemente's daughter were waiting. Maybe-just maybe-she could help with the case. The chances of her volunteering as a witness were slim, but still... there was always a possibility.

He reached the coffee shop quickly and spotted Attorney Fontanilla seated toward the back. Across from him sat a woman, her back turned to Dylan. He couldn't see her face, so he walked closer.

"You've been here long, Tito?" he asked as he took the seat beside him.

He froze the moment he saw the woman's face.

She was clearly younger than him-probably around the same age as his girlfriend. Twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven. She wore a white blouse, her long curly hair loose around her shoulders. She looked... innocent. So far removed from the kind of woman his girlfriend was.

"You must be Senator Clemente's daughter," Dylan said. "I'm Lieutenant Dylan Fontanilla. I'm guessing you already know my name, since you were looking for me earlier?"

She didn't answer right away. Her eyes stayed on him, making him suddenly self-conscious. After a moment, she nodded and looked away. "I-I'm Kaia Clemente," she introduced herself, her voice unsteady.

Dylan nodded. "They said you were looking for me. Why? I assume this is about your father?"

Kaia nodded. "I just wanted to ask if my d-dad is really going to jail. Is there... no way to fix this?" she asked, clearly nervous.

Dylan sighed, disappointment settling in. From her tone, it sounded like she was about to ask for mercy on her father's behalf. He shook his head. "The government prosecutors have filed a plunder case against your father, Miss Clemente. Billions of dollars in misused congressional funds. Billions," he emphasized. "On top of that, he's involved in drugs and prostitution. There's no way out of that."

He saw her swallow hard. It finally seemed to sink in how serious the charges were. And honestly, she looked like someone who had benefited from that stolen wealth. From her clothes alone, she screamed high maintenance. Dylan knew it was expensive when he saw it-his cousin dressed the same way.

If her father went to prison, the money would disappear. No wonder she was here.

"H-how long... how long will he be in jail? If he does get convicted, I mean?"

Dylan studied her face. She was looking down now, hands resting on the table-hands that were visibly trembling.

"Fifteen years," his uncle answered for him. "The charges are heavy. He won't be getting out easily-"

"Only?"

Dylan stiffened. He turned to her slowly. "What did you say?"

She smiled at him... sweet, almost too sweet. "Nothing," she said as she stood. "He might be looking for me since I haven't visited. Tell him I don't plan on seeing him anymore. You can do whatever you want with him. I don't care."

"From the way you talk about your father, it doesn't sound like you like him," Dylan said, frowning. "If you do decide to testify-"

"Nah."

She cut him off immediately. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she opened it as if looking for something. "I don't like associating myself with people like that. I already have enough problems. I'm not adding more."

"But-"

"You were hoping for something, right?" she said lightly. "That I'd beg you to let my daddy walk free? God. I didn't know police officers could be that gullible."

"What are you talking about?" Dylan asked sharply.

She smiled and glanced around the coffee shop. "I know a journalist who saw us earlier. Good thing I acted fast, and that I'm good at pretending. Otherwise, people might think I'm a horrible daughter for wanting my daddy to rot in jail. I'm too smart to fall into their trap," she continued calmly. "If news spreads that I tried to bribe you to free him, that's on you. Clean it up yourselves."

Dylan's lips parted in shock, but before he could say anything, she picked up her expensive bag from the table.

"Call me once you've finally put my daddy behind bars," she said. Then, without warning, she took his hand and slipped something into it.

Dylan gulped.

She smiled at him one last time before turning her back and walking away.

Dylan sat there, stunned.

"Damn."

"What's that?"

He snapped out of it when his uncle spoke, pointing at Dylan's hand. Dylan looked down slowly.

It was a calling card.

Kaia Clemente.

"What's with that face, Dylan? You look miserable."

Dylan frowned even more when he heard his cousin's comment. Iverson dropped onto the seat beside him and handed him a glass of wine. Dylan shook his head slightly, like he wasn't fully there, before taking it.

"What do you want?" he asked, taking a slow sip.

Iverson let out a quiet laugh. "Do I need a reason just to sit with you? Wow. You really know how to make someone feel welcome," he said, shaking his head.

Dylan scoffed. "Then why are you here?"

"Danielle and Maurice told me to check on you. They said you looked like you needed someone to talk to."

Dylan shook his head again. Those two. "Do I really look like I need someone to talk to?" he asked, letting out a bitter laugh.

"You've been sitting there alone all night. You've looked stressed for hours," Iverson said with a yawn. "What is it? Work? That case? The one involving Senator Clemente?" He waved it off. "I already know. Even my dad's stressed because of that. He barely sleeps anymore. Mom yelled at him last night. Honestly? He really deserved some scolding from Mom."

"It's not work," Dylan said quietly. "It's not about that."

And it wasn't. Work was the one thing going right in his life. He was doing well. He's one step away from a promotion. Everything should've felt steady.

"Oh." Iverson turned to look at him properly. "Then that means it's a woman."

He wasn't even asking. He sounded completely sure.

Dylan sighed deeply, the weight in his chest pressing harder. They were so close to finally putting Senator Clemente behind bars. And he had promised Brielle they'd get married once it was over.

"What about Brielle?" Iverson asked. "Did you two fight again?"

Dylan slowly shook his head. "Surprisingly, no. She's been... fine these past few days. She hasn't been getting mad at me over my job."

"Oh." Iverson raised an eyebrow. "Then what's the problem? You should be happy. Your girlfriend's not throwing tantrums for once."

Dylan stayed quiet.

That was part of it, wasn't it? He should be relieved. Grateful, even. But instead, something felt off. Like something was wrong and he just couldn't name it.

"I promised her we'd get married after the case is done," he finally said.

Iverson blinked. "What? But didn't you say you weren't planning on getting married this year?"

Dylan inhaled sharply. "I wasn't. But she wants to. And we've been together for a long time. Maybe my mom's right... maybe it's time."

The truth was, he wasn't ready. Not even close. There were still so many things he wanted to do, things he wanted to become. Sometimes he felt like he and Brielle didn't even fully know each other yet. But he didn't want to lose her. She had already gotten angry so many times because he kept postponing marriage. If he refused again, this time she might really walk away.

"Why does it sound like you're forcing yourself?" Iverson asked.

Dylan sighed and took another drink. "It's not forcing. I'm just... not ready."

"But didn't you tell us before that Brielle doesn't want you to be a cop?" Iverson pressed. "What about that?"

Dylan nodded, his jaw tightening as he drank again. "That's part of the problem. She wants me to quit and take over Inara from Maurice. You know she's not on good terms with our cousins, right? And seriously.. What does she think of my profession? I'm doing well where I am. I don't want to take the business just because I earn less. And I'm not even interested in that life... but she keeps insisting I should just give up my job."

Iverson fell silent.

Dylan drained the rest of his glass.

"If you're really planning to marry her, and that's how she sees your career," Iverson said slowly, "then you need to think about this carefully." He looked straight at Dylan. "You should be with someone who helps you reach your dreams. You don't have to stay with someone who doesn't respect them. Love isn't just about being happy all the time. Look at our parents. Look at the kind of love they have." He paused. "Do you honestly think that's what you and Brielle have?"

Dylan rubbed his temples, frustration pounding in his head. Of course he wanted someone who understood him. Deep down, he knew Brielle didn't.

But he loved her. More than anyone.

Was he really willing to lose her over his ambitions?

He let out a long breath and stood up. "I still have time to think," he said. "I'll deal with it after the case is over."

"You need to choose wisely," Iverson called after him. "Brielle isn't the only person who could love you. What if there's someone else? Someone who understands why your job matters to you?"

Dylan didn't answer. He just exhaled sharply and walked away, ignoring the cousins who greeted him on his way to his room. He was too exhausted to pretend he was okay.

Before going to sleep, he checked his phone. No message from Brielle. Just like before.

He shook his head. Maybe she was busy.

The next morning, he woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing nonstop. Confused by the flood of messages and missed calls, he started reading them one by one.

And in an instant, his world stopped.

It felt like ice water had been poured over him. His lips trembled as he read through the messages. Some were furious at Brielle, some were trying to comfort him. There were too many to process, too many words, all colliding at once. His mind refused to catch up.

They were telling him the same thing.

A piece of news that shattered everything he thought he knew.

His girlfriend, Brielle Clarkson, was set to marry someone else.

And it wasn't him.

"Are you really standing by your decision not to visit your father, Kaia?"

My thoughts shattered when my bedroom door flew open. My aunt stormed in, slamming it behind her. I straightened in my seat and took a slow breath before looking at her. "What?"

"Don't play dumb with me," she snapped. "Do you think I wouldn't find out that you went to the police station but didn't even bother seeing your father? What were you there for, huh? To talk to the cops? To talk to the prosecutor handling his case? Is that what you did?"

Her voice echoed through the room. I looked away.

I stayed silent. I didn't tell her that, yes, I talked to those people. She didn't need to know. And besides, I didn't gain anything from going there anyway. Except for one thing-

"Why, Kaia?" she demanded, stepping closer. "Did you sell your father out to the police? Did you talk? Was this all your doing?"

Just like before, I said nothing. I avoided her gaze, a quiet refusal to answer. She let out a sharp breath, and before I could react, she yanked my hair in anger. I gasped.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to stay calm. I couldn't let her see that I was angry too-no matter how badly I wanted to pull her hair right back. None of this would've happened if she hadn't tolerated my father's sins. If she had stopped him back then, if she had gone against him even once, maybe everything wouldn't have come to this.

"I'm asking you a question," she hissed. "Did you report your father to the police? Was this your way of rebelling? Because if it is, then just fucking stop-"

"I didn't report him," I said calmly, finally meeting her eyes. Her grip was still tight in my hair. "Trust me. I didn't. I told you a long time ago that this day would come and that he'd eventually get caught. And now he has. That's not my fault."

I tried to pull away, but she only glared at me harder. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto mine as if trying to intimidate me. I let out a long breath.

I wasn't a child anymore. I wasn't the same girl who used to tremble at their glares, their insults, their cruelty. I wasn't that obedient, soft Kaia anymore.

They changed me. Why were they so surprised?

"If I find out you said anything against your father while you were there," she warned, "I swear I'll throw you out of this house-"

"I asked the police how long he's going to be locked up," I cut in casually, shrugging. "I needed to know how long I'll be free. Because the moment he gets out, I know I'll be the first person he'll come after for not helping him."

She slapped me.

The sound cracked through the room. My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning. I scoffed. "Why did you slap me?"

"You really think your dad is going to prison?" she shouted. I laughed.

"Obviously he is," I said flatly. "Just accept it. Defending him is a waste of time because he did all of it. And if I help him, people might think I'm an accomplice. I'm not a thief-"

"As if you didn't benefit from his crimes!" she screamed, yanking my hair harder. "Do you think you'd be sleeping in this bed if it weren't for what he did?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "I never asked for any of this. I never told him to steal from the public. I'm a Political Science major. What he did disgusts me. I'm ashamed of him-"

Her palm hit my cheek again.

"He didn't raise you to be like this!"

I laughed loudly and faced her head-on. "You're wrong. This is exactly how he raised me. He raised a monster. He raised his own nightmare. That's his fault for not leaving me with my mother!"

I shoved her hand away with force. She stumbled back, releasing my hair.

I stood up slowly, a smirk forming on my lips. I met her stare without fear... the same stare that used to terrify me when I was younger. Back then, one look from her felt like a death sentence.

But not anymore.

My father once called me a monster while I watched the police take him away. And maybe he was right. I was the monster they raised, and for that, I should thank them.

"I stayed quiet when he brought other women into this house while he was still married to my mom," I said coldly, stepping closer. She instinctively backed away. "I stayed quiet when I caught him dealing drugs with fellow politicians. I stayed quiet every time he hit me when he was drunk or angry from work."

I smiled when I saw fear flicker across her face.

"But do you remember how I begged you?" I continued. "I begged both of you to let me go to my mom's wake. Just that. Just to see her one last time. You didn't let me because you said people might think she died from stress because of him. So even in death, I wasn't allowed to see my own mother."

My voice shook, but I didn't stop.

"I stayed obedient after that. Silent. Until I found out he cut off the allowance for my grandmother back in the province. That's when I couldn't take it anymore."

"The doctor said it was a waste of money to keep supporting her," my aunt scoffed.

"So what?!" I shouted, clenching my fists. "So what if it's a waste? He stole that money from people anyway! Why couldn't he at least help my grandmother? Where was he even planning to use that money?"

She didn't answer.

"I'm done cleaning up his mess," I said through gritted teeth. "If you want to help him, then go ahead. Convince everyone he's innocent even though you know the truth. He's guilty. Of everything. And I will never defend him. I'm tired of obeying him. I'm tired of obeying you. Let me live however I want."

I turned my back on her.

"Step outside this house and you'll never be allowed back in," she threatened.

I laughed.

I turned around and smiled sweetly. "This house is mine. All the documents are under my name. And since he's in prison, nothing changes. What's mine... stays mine."

Money had always ruled them. They raised me themselves so what did they expect? Of course I'd turn out just like them. I'd take what was rightfully mine.

I grabbed my coat and purse, then glanced back at my aunt. She watched my every move, her hatred palpable even from behind. But I wasn't afraid anymore.

I smiled at her... fake and sweet. "Send my regards to my father. And tell him I'd rather die than visit him or defend him. I'm going to live my life without him. Happily."

"You're a demon," she screamed.

I shrugged lightly, still smiling. "Runs in the family, right?"

I walked out of the house with my head held high. I felt no remorse. I didn't know how I'd survive on my own but I didn't care.

As long as I was far away from them.

"Beasts like me," I whispered to myself, "we are meant to live alone."