Chapter 69

Her brother’s cynical words had failed to pierce Yada’s resolve. This morning, she presented herself at the specialized clinic, armed with fresh blankets, homemade pastries, and a determined, albeit naive, lawyer’s focus. The sterile white environment of the clinic felt cold, a stark contrast to the emotional warmth she desperately carried.

To her relief and astonishment, Kannika was awake. Pako sat beside her bed, his large frame hunched slightly as he tried to communicate without stressing her. Yada entered, carrying a sudden burst of domesticity into the room.

“I was telling her that Rouffie is doing well,” Pako announced, rising smoothly.

Yada smiled, setting her provisions on a sterile steel cart. The smell of fresh cardamom and sugar immediately fought with the faint scent of antiseptic.
“Kannika, are you okay?” she asked, rushing to the bedside.

“Not too bad, but—”

“Actually, I—”

They spoke simultaneously, their voices overlapping in an awkward, high-pitched collision that shattered the tension. They looked at each other and broke into a genuine, shared smile.

Pako, perceptive despite his imposing nature, sensed the shift in the air.
“Well, I’ll leave you two,” he said, giving Yada a skeptical, silent look before slipping out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Kannika shifted slightly to face her.

“Does Evelyn know?” she asked.

“No,” Yada said quickly. “No. Even I… wasn’t supposed to know. It’s because—”

“Your whole family is in the police force,” Kannika murmured knowingly.

Yada froze.

Her silence confirmed everything. Her mind fleetingly grasped at Evelyn’s mysterious disappearance—a weight Yada wasn’t ready to place on Kannika’s already fragile shoulders. She had come for something else—something more heartbreaking.

“I would like to make you a proposition… I mean, I… Actually, I know about your mission…” Yada stammered, her well-rehearsed pitch dissolving into a naive, panicked confession.

“Yada,” Kannika interrupted, her brow furrowing with confusion and exhaustion. “Relax and start over.”

“Sorry,” Yada whispered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. She struggled against the unexpected loss of composure in the face of Kannika’s steady, injured gaze. She took a deep breath, forcing the words out:
“I want to propose that you marry me.”

Kannika blinked once, then again. A disbelieving chuckle escaped her.
“Wow. Isn’t that a bit fast? And besides, you don’t even know if I have a preference for women.”

“Am I your type?” Yada blurted out, instantly regretting the intimate, foolish question.
“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean to say it like that,” she stopped, swallowing hard. She pressed on, trying to salvage the argument with data. “I know you dated a female colleague.”

“And who told you that?”

“Some research, but that’s not why. I mean—”

Kannika straightened, wincing as pain stabbed through her ribs.

“So, when you’re interested in a woman, you dig through her personal life? And so my profile pleased you so much that you want to marry me without knowing me?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t— I mean yes—but not LIKE THAT—”

Yada was mid-apology when the door flew open behind them.

It was the Internal Affairs agent, brisk and humorless.
“We need to talk,” they said, facing Kannika.

“No, not now, please,” Yada snapped, stepping between the agent and the bed. “Leave us for a moment.”

“And you are…?” one agent began, his eyes narrowing.

“Her fiancée,” Yada announced, the lie sharp and instantaneous.

Kannika stared at her, astonishment freezing her features.

“Please, outside,” Yada said, flashing her lawyer’s badge—a badge that carried surprising weight here.

He looked at her, then back at the bewildered Kannika, before giving a grudging nod.
“Ten minutes, Madam.”

They left, closing the door firmly.

“What are you playing at, Yada?” Kannika hissed, adrenaline fighting the pain.

“Listen, we don’t have time. We have to get married.”

“And why is that?”

“I know about your adoptive sister. I know they rejected your application.”

Kannika tried to sit up—pain shot through her body, dragging her back into the pillow.

“You had no right,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“I know I shouldn’t have…” Yada said. “But listen—”

“Get out. Ms. Yada.”

“Listen to me, damn it!” Yada told her, fighting tears of frustration.

“Get out, I said!”

“They found a foster family for her.”

Hearing this, Kannika froze. The fight left her, replaced by a devastating dread.
“Wh-what?”

Yada’s voice softened.
“They found a foster family for her. That’s why they rejected your application. If they finish the transfer… she’ll be gone.”

Kannika’s carefully controlled composure finally shattered. Tears began to flow, tracing hot paths down her temples.

“Listen, I’m a lawyer. I can’t force anything on you, but the solution for you to get your sister back before they give her to the family is to have a stable job and a stable home. And you don’t have those. If you marry someone with a stable job, a stable home, good salary, they’ll reconsider. You don’t have time to find someone. So, I’m offering myself.”

“Please, I need you to leave,” Kannika managed, her voice thick with anguish.

Yada stayed still, hating herself for the pain on the woman’s face.
“They will finalize the adoption in one month.”

“Please leave!”

Yada left.

She stood outside the door, tears slipping down her cheeks as Internal Affairs walked past her into the room she had just been thrown from.

Maybe she deserved it.
She didn’t know anymore.

She had expected gratitude, or at least a negotiation, but instead, she had provoked the anger of the woman who had saved her brother.

While she sank onto a bench, trying to steady her focus, a deep, familiar voice cut through her shame.

“I assume you proposed your ridiculous idea to the agent.”

She looked up.

“Dad?”

“Dad!” Yada stood up abruptly, looking around. It was her father, General Khaisang, flanked by a gentleman she didn’t recognize.

“You get this dramatic flair from your mother. If I knew all it took for you to get married was danger, I would have put several daughters-in-law of my choice in danger years ago.”

“Dad, it’s not funny.”

He chuckled. “How did she react?”

“Badly. And now she’s with the Internal Affairs guys.”

Her father patted her on the shoulder.
“I know why you want to do this. Your brother told me.”

Yada sat back down.
“It was crazy of me. He was right.”

“Not wrong, but I also have to support you, just like your idiot brother.”

Yada looked at her father for a moment before he added,
“But tell me, Yaya.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you just doing it because she saved your brother or…?”

Yada made an awkward, telling gesture.
“Yes. Yes, of course.”

He didn’t believe her, but didn’t press.

“Wait here,” he said, and walked in—straight into Kannika’s deposition, followed by the silent man beside him.
“Come on, gentlemen. You’re not going to pressure her barely awake.”

“Sir!” The agents saluted him with profound respect.

“Please, allow me to speak with my future daughter-in-law,” the General stated, smiling benignly.

Kannika looked at him calmly, then her eyes widened as she recognized the second agent who had accompanied the General. It was her Chief of Police.

“Chief!” Kannika said immediately, struggling to sit up straight in respect, while the Internal Affairs agents stood outside.

“I didn’t know you were getting married. If I had known, I would have removed you from the case immediately. Mr. Khaisang is a good friend of mine,” the Chief said, his tone mixing formality with an implicit warning.

Kannika blinked again. Her entire world had gone insane.

The chief nodded with his colleague, then left with the agents.

Once alone, the General moved closer to the bed.
“Listen, I didn’t come here to pressure you, but I am fully aware of my daughter’s proposal.”

“Sir, I wouldn’t want to be indebted to you to that extent. Marriage is not a game.”

“And family isn’t either,” the father said, his voice dropping, his eyes conveying the gravity of a battlefield decision.
“Your sister—if she is worth it—then that must be your priority. And I am already indebted to you for saving my only son. If that bullet had lodged in his head, we wouldn’t be here. So, I speak to you as a soldier and a father.”

Kannika lowered her head, the tears returning.

“Just think, Agent. Even if you were placed on mandatory leave today, your profile will never be good enough in their eyes. Get your sister back first, and then we’ll think of another solution. Having said that, it’s now up to you.”

He looked at her for a moment.
“Get well.”

Upon his exit, Yada was stationed outside, impatient and desperate for information.

“Dad!”

“Give her time to digest,” he said, comforting his daughter before leaving her alone in the hallway.

The strategic gears of the Khaisang family were now grinding into motion, whether Kannika liked it or not.

If Yada was trying to buy time, on Niran Kai’s side, the temporal distortion was becoming increasingly sinister.

Malaya, forced into a mandatory routine between work and the solitude of her apartment, saw the hospital nurses nervously whispering like flocks of unsettled birds. This had been a habit for a while, a side effect of the relentless media drama, but today, the atmosphere was abnormally heavy—sickly, even. She decided to inquire.

She approached a nurse with whom she often socialized, a man named Jules, near the supply room.

“Jules, what’s happening? Everyone looks like they’ve seen a ghost.”

Jules leaned in, his eyes wide and glazed with fear.
“Dr. Marz, Malaya. He’s dead.”

Malaya’s breath hitched in her throat.
“What?”

“They found him dead in a hotel suite in the Maldives. Fire, apparently.”

The hospital, once a beacon of sterile progress, was becoming sinister. First Emilio—demoted. Then Mr. Polo, a shadow of himself. Romaric was gone. Dr. Williams was shot. And now, Dr. Marz is dead.

Malaya panicked. There were barely a few minutes left before the end of her shift.

“Dr. Marz dead?”
So there really was a countdown, a systemic removal of anyone connected to the dirty secrets.

That’s when she thought of Emilio. Makizal had promised Emilio he would suffer the same fate as Mr. Assanago.

If she couldn’t risk seeing everyone currently involved at Niran Kai, she could find one person far removed from the current madness—someone who could clarify her deepest fears.

With a heavy heart, Malaya closed her office, put her phone away, locked it in a drawer, and fled the hospital. She needed to conquer her fears and face her past, even if it meant returning to the dark edges of her trauma.

She walked several blocks and side alleys until she reached a quiet street corner, where she hailed a cab.

After a tense, silent drive through the city’s dense evening traffic, she arrived in a small, unremarkable neighborhood defined by cramped sidewalks and stucco residences. With her heart pounding against her ribs, she finally stepped in front of a small, two-story residence and knocked.

“Who is it?” a voice asked from inside.

She hesitated, the name of her past catching in her throat.
“It’s Malaya.”

“Malaya!” The person rushed to the door and flung it open. “Malaya, come in, it’s been a long time!”

“Are you alone?” Malaya asked, her eyes darting nervously.

“Yes, come in.”

Malaya entered, feeling awkward, the stale, familiar scent of the residence hitting her like a physical force. It was Sophie, a former colleague. They had worked together under Mr. Assanago at the bank.

“It’s been a long time. You left just like that.”

Malaya forced a tight smile.
“And you, are you still working there?”

“Oh, yes. And you know, I’m no longer under general management now.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I was reassigned to the mail room,” Sophie said, a genuine relief in her voice.

“Finally,” Malaya replied.

“But what about you? Where are you?”

Malaya hesitated before whispering,
“Niran Kai.”

Sophie gasped.
“Dr. Williams’ hospital? It’s all over the news. Is she okay?”

“We don’t know.”

Sophie shook her head.
“Oh God. I hope she survives and that dirty journalist pays for his actions.”

After a hesitant silence, Malaya asked quietly:

“Any news about Mr. Assanago?”

Sophie made a strange, pitying face.
“He was arrested recently.”

“But Why?”

“He was found in a motel with a drugged minor, along with a large quantity of drugs and money. According to rumors, he’s facing at least thirty years if convicted. The news isn’t good for him. Besides that, he has many other charges.”

Malaya began to connect the brutal, chilling similarity to Emilio’s impending fate.
Discredited. Imprisoned. Professionally destroyed.

“Malaya, are you okay?” Sophie asked, touching her arm.

“I’m fine, it’s really been a while,” Malaya smiled faintly. “That’s sad news.”

“Well, it’s not yet over the news as they are investigating, but it’s a matter of time before it explodes.”

She tried to have a good time with Sophie.

Perhaps Malaya was right to be worried.
Assanago had been destroyed.
Marz was dead.
Emilio was next.
And after him…

Would she be spared?

Or was her own downfall already unfolding from the moment Makizal set foot in Niran Kai?

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