The figure who stepped into the room was Senior Inspector Ramon dela Cruz, the officer assigned to investigate my accident. Dante stiffened immediately, his hand slipping from my pillow as if caught in a crime.
“Mr. Hayes,” Ramon said coolly, “I think we need to talk.”
Dante attempted a smile. “Inspector, this is hardly the time—my wife is recovering.”
Ramon ignored him and turned to me. “Mrs. Hayes… I’m glad to see you awake.”
Dante’s head snapped toward me. “Anne? You’re—you’re conscious?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice calm but edged with steel, “and I’ve heard everything.”
Panic flickered across Olive’s face. “We didn’t mean—Dante was just emotional—”
Ramon raised a hand, cutting her off. “Save it. The hospital security staff informed me that someone reported suspicious visitors entering your room, Mrs. Hayes. When I checked the hallway, I overheard enough to justify recording the remainder. Everything is documented.”
Dante’s mask cracked, revealing the frantic man beneath. “This is ridiculous! You can’t just record people without—”
“Actually,” Ramon replied, “given the context of a suspected attempted homicide investigation, I can.”
The room turned cold. Dante’s voice grew sharp. “I didn’t try to kill her. It was an accident!”
I pushed myself upright. The pain was sharp, but my resolve was sharper. “Then why were the brake lines cut?”
He froze. Completely.
Olive took a step back, trembling. “Dante… you said—”
Ramon stepped forward. “Mr. Hayes, I have the forensic report. The damage was deliberate. And now,” he lifted his phone, “we have a motive.”
Dante lunged for the device, but two uniformed officers entered instantly, forcing him back. He shouted my name, accusations, excuses—none of it mattered anymore.
As they handcuffed him, his voice broke. “Anne, please… We were supposed to build a life together.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You were building a life with someone else. And planning to erase mine.”
Olive didn’t resist when the officers approached her. Instead, she sank to the floor, sobbing.
When they were gone, Ramon remained, his expression softening. “You’re safe now. But this isn’t the end. When you’re ready, we’ll talk through the next steps.”
I nodded, breathing deeply, letting the weight lift off my chest. For the first time in months, I felt like I could truly breathe.
The subsequent trials took place at the Pasig Hall of Justice. Armed with evidence from my devoted sister, Ate Emilia, and the financial fraud documents my late father had meticulously kept, Dante and Olive were convicted.
Following Dante and Olive’s sentencing, my life began to regenerate. I used the recovered assets and settlement money to establish a foundation, “Lakas ng Babae” (Strength of a Woman), dedicated to helping Filipina women who are victims of domestic and financial abuse.
Six months later, Emilia and I held a small service at the historic San Agustin Church in Intramuros to honor my father. After the service, as we walked along the ancient cobblestone streets, Ramon (now Major dela Cruz) waited for me by the gate.
“Anne,” he said, his eyes warm, no longer holding the sharp focus of an inspector. “I know you are busy rebuilding. But I can’t wait any longer.”
He took out a simple ring—not a flashy diamond, but a ring featuring a South Sea Pearl (the Philippine national gem)—exquisite, valuable, and resilient.
“I have seen the worst in you, and the best in you. I know you don’t need anyone. But if you allow me, I want to be by your side—not to protect you, but to build everything from scratch with you. I want nothing in return, Anne.”
I looked at the pearl shimmering in the late afternoon Manila sun. It reminded me of the resilience of a Filipina woman who survived the storm.
I smiled, tears of happiness streaming down my face. “Major, I am not looking for a husband. I am looking for a companion. And I want the rest of my life to begin with a yes.”
As I said “yes,” Major Ramon knelt, and I saw that my life, after all the loss, had finally found its true peace and beauty.