The train rides soon weren't enough. The twenty-minute sanctuary between stations felt too short, so they began to leak into the rest of the city. They found comfort in crowded night markets and quiet, dimly lit bars where Joie's last name meant nothing.
Eventually, the city itself felt too public. They retreated to Joie's condo—a sleek, cold space paid for by Lolo Tenorio that only began to feel like a home when Alliana's colorful scarves were draped over the chairs and the scent of vanilla replaced the smell of industrial cleaner.
Three months had passed. They never talked about what "this" was. There were no "I love yous," and the word "girlfriend" was never uttered. Joie simply existed in a state of unlabeled bliss, clinging to Alliana as if she were the only thing keeping her from drifting away into the dark.
But it was unfair. Alliana was falling in love with a ghost. She loved the girl who studied late into the night, not the woman who knew how to make a heart stop with a single, well-placed needle.
In the Tenorio world, happiness is a red flag.
"You're humming," Timothy remarked one afternoon in the surveillance hub. He didn't look up from his monitors, but his smirk was sharp. "You haven't hummed or smiled in a long time, Joie. And your heart rate has been remarkably steady during the last three 'interrogations.' You're distracted."
"I'm focused, Tim," Joie snapped, though her hand instinctively moved to her phone.
"She's a marketing director," Stephen said, entering the room like a cold front. He didn't need to ask. Timothy had already mapped Joie's GPS pings to Alliana's apartment. "She's a civilian. A liability."
Joie knew she couldn't hide Alliana anymore. In this family, if you hide something, they assume it's a weapon to be used against them. If you show it to them, it's a pet they might let you keep.
"She's my friend," Joie said, her voice iron. "And you're going to meet her. At the Blue Marlin. This Saturday."
The Blue Marlin Resort was a fortress of luxury. To Alliana, it was a breathtaking five-star getaway with infinity pools and white sand. To Joie, it was the place where the basement floor was stained with secrets.
When they walked into the private dining suite, the tension was thick enough to choke on.
Stephen was at the head of the table, his charcoal suit buttoned tight, his hand never straying far from the concealed carry tucked beneath his ribs. Matthew leaned back in his chair, tossing a gold coin with a rhythmic clink-clink-clink, his eyes scanning Alliana with a predator's curiosity. Timothy sat with a tablet, already bored because he had already read every email Alliana had sent in the last three years.
"Kuya Seth, Matt, Tim," Joie said, her pulse thundering in her ears. "This is Alliana."
"The girl from the train," Timothy chirped, finally looking up. "Alliana Marie. Born in Batangas, top of her class, currently managing three major accounts. No debt, except for a small car loan you're paying off ahead of schedule. Impressive."
Alliana froze, her hand halfway to a handshake. She looked at Joie, then back at the three men. She didn't look scared; she looked intrigued.
"And you must be the 'Overprotective Cousins' Joie mentions when she's grumpy," Alliana said, pulling out her own chair before Matthew could do it for her. "I usually charge for a deep-dive audit of my personal life, Timothy. But for family, I'll give you a pass."
Matthew's coin-tossing stopped. He let out a short, surprised bark of a laugh.
The dinner was a masterclass in psychological warfare. Matthew flirted shamelessly, trying to see if Alliana was a social climber. Timothy threw out complex tech riddles to see if she was a spy. Stephen sat in terrifying silence, watching the way her eyes moved, the way she didn't flinch when the waiter dropped a tray.
Alliana was brilliant. She handled Matthew's charms with a witty deflection, ignored Timothy's prying, and eventually turned to Stephen.
"You look like a man who worries about the foundation of his house, Stephen," Alliana said, swirling her wine. "But Joie is the strongest part of it. You don't need to guard the door so hard when she's the one holding up the roof."
For the first time in years, Stephen's stoic mask slipped. He let out a genuine, dry smile. "She's got spirit, Joie. I see why you like her."
Halfway through the evening, Alliana excused herself to the restroom. The second the door closed, the air in the room turned sub-zero.
Stephen leaned across the table, his shadow falling over Joie. His hand reached out, not to comfort, but to grip Joie's chin, forcing her to look at him.
"She's beautiful, Joie. Truly," Stephen whispered, his voice vibrating with a deadly sincerity. "She has a soul that hasn't been touched by this city's filth. It's a shame that people like us eventually ruin everything we touch."
He let go, but his eyes remained locked on hers.
"Enjoy the color while it lasts, munchkin. But keep her away from the 'Main Work.' Don't let her see the basement. Because if she finds out what we are, she becomes a witness. And if she becomes a witness, I'll have to be the one to clean up the mess. Do you understand?"
Joie felt the blood drain from her face. She looked across the room as Alliana returned, laughing at something Timothy had said. Alliana looked like a burst of sunlight in a room full of ghosts.
Joie realized then the magnitude of her mistake. She hadn't brought Alliana into a sanctuary. She had brought a sheep into a house of wolves, and the wolves were already hungry.