Suddenly, Alexander's phone vibrated. The number wasn't registered. He stared at it for a moment, debating whether to answer, then picked up—he still had a lot to do.
"Hello," he greeted.
"Boss, I just want to report that our target has been located," the voice said.
Alexander smiled. That makes things easier.
"That's good. If you have any additional information, better tell me now."
"B—Boss… Another one of our colleagues has died." The caller's voice was tight with worry.
Alexander was slightly surprised but didn't let it show.
So, they're taking action too… and they're prioritizing the spy who betrayed them. He smirked inwardly.
"Take good care," he said, then ended the call.
How did they find out they had a spy? Do they also operate outside their own group? And who's their informant out there? The questions nagged at him.
He couldn't deny he'd been under surveillance during the campaign. Someone had been watching Don Bernard Fuego's every move. He'd even caught a glimpse—sharp eyes, but a face he couldn't place.
Still, despite those lingering doubts, Giovane had given him a new task. It had long been his duty to spy on Fuego's enemies, especially in the brewing conflict between father and son.
He looked at a photo of Isabel's classmate. He still needed to learn more about her. All he knew was her parents had been killed when Don Bernard eliminated their entire clan—an act that came after Giovane was betrayed.
What a twisted web they've woven. Sometimes he wondered if they'd ever think to align with those in power for the sake of peace.
Lighting a cigarette, he took a slow drag, lost in thought.
There was also Charles—a close relative from the Fuentes family. Alexander still couldn't understand why Charles fought battles he couldn't win.
He made another call.
"Boss, do you need anything?" a man answered.
"Yeah, I've got some work for you. Should be easy. I'll send the details the usual way. And if you do it right… I might have a little bonus for you."
The man on the other end chuckled. "Okay, boss."
Alexander hung up and stepped out of his room. Something caught his attention.
He was at the Fuego mansion, reporting on the organization's affairs—inside and out—while Charles had his hands full elsewhere.
And there he was. The man he'd seen before.
Alexander's gaze narrowed. The man wore a worn-out shirt and faded pants, his shoes scuffed. Thick glasses hid his eyes.
"Have we met before?" Alexander asked.
The man nodded politely. "Ah, yes, sir," he said with a faint smile.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm hoping to get a job here… as a gardener."
Alexander nodded, glancing at the application form. He hadn't heard about anyone applying for work.
"Where are you headed?"
"Someone told me to see Don Bernard for an interview."
"Good luck with that."
"Thank you, sir." The man bowed.
Alexander turned to leave but paused. "What's your name?"
"Rolando Gracias, sir."
Alexander gave him a final look before heading to Don Bernard's office. He knocked.
"Come in," came the reply.
Don Bernard was wearing glasses, reading something intently—likely a background report. Alexander waited.
"How was your visit to the warehouse?" Bernard asked, eyes sharp.
Alexander inhaled slowly. "Just before I came back, I learned there was chaos at the warehouse. Some captives escaped."
"Do you know who the snakes are?"
"Charles is among the suspects," Alexander said.
Bernard's grip tightened, crumpling the paper in his hands. "I told you—why hasn't Giovane killed him yet?"
"Giovane says he's using Charles to catch his accomplice."
Bernard exhaled sharply. "How can he use a traitor like Charles?"
"Trust your son, sir." Alexander's voice was calm; he knew exactly how Giovane thought.
"Have you found out who spread the accusations and photos?"
"Not yet. The snakes are good at hiding."
"You know my political opponents will use that."
"Those who tried to are already being silenced."
Bernard's lips curved into a smile. "Commendable. I can rely on you for this."
"For now, that's all I can report," Alexander said politely.
"You may leave and continue your work."
Before stepping out, Alexander added, "A man has applied to be a gardener."
"Oh, he's here already? Let him in. I might have use for him during the campaign."
"As you wish."
Outside, Alexander saw Rolando waiting. The man bowed again.
"They're waiting for you inside."
"Ah, okay. Thank you, sir."
Alexander watched him enter. Despite his meek look, there's something… off about him.
Too much, Alexander, he told himself. That man's naïve—applying to work here of all places.