I LOVE MY FATHER.

I love him very much despite what happened to our family.

I love my mother too, despite how she’s become a bitter, vengeful woman after Dad divorced her, but I know her to be caring and nurturing deep down, and I intend to bring that woman back.

I love my parents more now as they sit with me in a secret meeting with the people who can make my immediate desires come true.

Days before, I had a very serious talk with them for the first time in years. They’ve always known me to be detached and chill about everything, even in the middle of crisis, but with Mara, I was a mess. I had to tell them. I needed their support. I bared my heart to them.

I told them about my conversation with Grandfather, about my desire to have a family of my own, about meeting Mara, about Mara’s situation.

They were both in tears when I was done talking. They had no words. They only hugged me, told me silently that they were with me all the way.

They both insisted to be part of what we now fondly call Operation: Save Mara. They were both so serious about it that they actually helped arrange this meeting with the President’s approval, no less.

We’re now having a secret meeting with the Secretary of National Defense, the current Ambassador of the US to Colombia, the Director of the FBI and the DEA Administrator.

It lasts for three hours.

When the meeting is over, my parents hug me.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be all right, honey. Mara will be fine,” Mom tells me as she pats my back. I’ve missed this side of her.

I nod. “Thank you for being here, Mother. I appreciate it very much.”

I meet my father’s eyes. “You think it will work?” I ask him.

“You have always been a great chess player, son. It will work.”

I was full of confidence as I discussed the plan with those people, but in truth, I had doubts. I’m taking calculated risks, but even I can’t predict a glitch, no matter how well-laid the plans.

Despite what I told Mara, I wouldn’t want to be put in a situation where I’d need to risk a lot of collateral damage just to save a few lives. When my family’s well-being is at stake, I can be Machiavelli and Sun Tzu combined.

If I go that route, Mara will surely hate me for it.

That woman is a saint. So brave she will drive a lot of men to their knees, including me.

And God, I don’t want her hate.

I desperately want her love.

He’s been gone for two weeks now. I haven’t heard from him. He didn’t even call. What he did was send all my stuff from the penthouse to Everland.

So he plans to keep me here for only God knows how long. Not that I can leave now.

I had to put my back-up plan on hold.

I’m pregnant.

I took the pregnancy test twice.

Both yielded two red lines that further complicated things.

I’m really pregnant.

Mama Zon was elated. I didn’t know what to feel.

I’m carrying Jeff’s baby. Our baby. The result of our passionate lovemaking.

God, I love my baby so much already but just the thought of putting it in grave danger terrifies me.

I had a heart to heart talk with Mama Zon. I finally told her everything. No more keeping secrets or holding back.

She hugged me like a mother and rubbed my back when I cried hard in her arms, fully letting out all the grief that’s been bottled inside me for months.

“You have to trust Jeff, mija. I know he will do the right thing. I’ve known him since he was a baby. He’s a good man.”

“I’m so scared, Mama Zon. I don’t want our baby to be caught in all this. Those people’s connections extend all the way here. What if—“

“Shh. Jeff will never let anything bad happen to you and the baby.”

“But…”

“Trust him, Mara. Just trust him.”

Trust. It’s hard to give it fully under the circumstances. I do trust Jeff to some extent. I know he will protect his child.

His words before we parted were quite emphatic.

I only care about MY family. You understand? I will do everything to protect what is mine, and you are mine, Mara. Mine!

Those possessive words should have brought me over the moon. But it scared me. He’s a very powerful man not only in this country, but in the world.

I’m worried what he’d do to my country.

A message arrives in my little phone.

No, several messages. It doesn’t happen like this. My colleagues are always cryptic when messaging me.

Something has happened. Oh God.

With my heart banging with dread against my ribcage, I reach for my phone and read the messages.

Sanchez will be extradited from Colombia to the US. The madmen are scared what juicy secrets he’d spill to Uncle. Have you been following the news? Canada, Spain and Panama have now openly cut ties with our country. Our three neighbors are all pissed off. Brazil had all but given the President the finger, Guyana continues to fight us over territorial disputes and now Colombia is dropping the madmen’s asses big time, too. It’s falling apart, M. The madmen are falling apart. Hallelujah!

I wonder what brought this on, but it seems that the powers-that-be in Colombia have cut a deal with Uncle. They probably figured it’s unwise to keep ties with a sinking ship, or it will drag them down, too.

Now don’t get me wrong. I haven’t sold my soul to the devil, but I’d rather ally with the folks who don’t want us dead, for now at least.

Here’s the best news. Our petition is back from the slush pile. Maybe they need us for this Sanchez thing. I don’t know. I’m waiting for more developments. A liaison officer from a Congressman in Florida contacted me discreetly. Said they’d help fix my papers and also C’s. Offered us jobs, too.

M, I don’t know what happened. Whatever it is, it’s a miracle. I almost lost hope for us. I hope you’re fine. We miss you. C says hi. I know we will see each other soon. I can feel it. Take care. ~D

I read the messages again and again.

Danton and Celia were my fellow journalists back home. We worked for different networks and news agencies, but we shared the same causes.

Benicio Sanchez was an armed forces pilot with close ties with top-level government officials in Venezuela, and the central figure in our investigation. He’s been incarcerated in Colombia for drug trafficking through a directive from the US Drug Enforcement Administration.

Sanchez’ record as a drug trafficker was legendary in South America. He was reported to have facilitated the transport of cocaine from the border of Venezuela and Colombia to Central America and the Caribbean more than a hundred times.

Colombia used to be a stalwart ally of Hugo Chavez, but relations deteriorated during Maduro’s time as allegations of massive corruption, human rights violations, illegal drug trade involvement, and Colombia’s accusations that Venezuela remains a huge supporter of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia plagued his administration. It has been reported that Maduro asked the Colombian president a few years ago to prevent the extradition of Sanchez to the US at all costs.

But now, Colombia is blatantly going against the Venezuelan government by providing the US with a devastating weapon that could justify a joint United Nations and European Union interference into Venezuela’s internal affairs. This is a shocking turn of events indeed. I still can’t believe it.

What would it mean for me and my colleagues?

A lot. A whole lot.

We would become totally irrelevant to our enemies. They’d focus on Sanchez instead, the man who could systematically bring them all down with the firsthand vital information he could provide. What we know is nothing compared to what Sanchez could divulge to the world.

Sanchez’ extradition and confession would free us from the threats to our lives.

And then it dawns on me.

This is not some random event that happened when I most needed it.

This happened because someone had a hand in it.

A hand so powerful it can influence a country to extradite a valuable prisoner in such a short time.

Oh God.

My tears fall.

I’m so ashamed for doubting him, for thinking the worst in him.

He did not only save my life but Dante and Celia’s, as well.

She’s been calling me non-stop all day.

I know why.

She must have learned about Sanchez already. I know she must be in contact with her friends to be able to get wind of these things so fast.

I’m not picking up her calls despite my entire being craving for her.

God, I miss her so much. Days have never dragged so slow like this, even with my loaded schedule.

But I have to make sure things will push through as planned.

I’ll only be able to breathe easily when Sanchez is finally on US soil.

Sanchez is my leverage. I’ll make sure to have all the information I need to send those bastards’ asses to hell and back at my whim, and ensure Mara’s safety.

I’m glad nobody has died in this operation yet. If the fuckers cooperate and keep away from my business, I’ll keep my fingers off the fucking trigger. If not, they will personally find out how I blow billions of dollars for the sole purpose of making their lives not worth living.

That’s right. Don’t ever touch my Mara, mofos. She has a psycho boyfriend.

She’s calling again.

I sigh and count the rings until it stops.

Mara is safer at Everland. I’ve tripled security around the manor, something she’s not aware of. She won’t be able to leave Everland until I say so.

“Why is he not answering my calls, Mama Zon?”

“He’s answering mine.”

“He’s really mad at me.”

“With good reason.”

“I want to go to him, but obviously I can’t leave the manor.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I want to tell him about the baby.”

“You can text him.”

“This kind of news is best told in person.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t miss the expression on his face when he finds out. Boy, he’d go loco.”

I sigh. “If only he’d come visit me.”

“He will soon, mija.”

“I miss him so much.”

“Text him that.”

I give here a face. “Yikes, cheesy.”

Mama Zon chuckles. “There is nothing cheesy when you’re in love.”

Later that evening as I lie alone in Jeff’s bed— yes, he wanted me to use his bedroom at Everland—I stare at my phone, fighting the urge to text him.

After staring at the shadows in the ceiling for an hour, I give in to it.

I type, “I know what you did. Thank you so much, Jeff. I don’t have enough words to express my gratitude.”

I wait for his reply.

Nothing.

I sigh and type again. “I’m so sorry for thinking the worst in you. I’m so ashamed of myself. You’ve been so kind to me, so generous and that was how I repaid you. Please, forgive me.”

That was serious already. He’d better answer.

Nada.

I sigh loudly. What would make that man respond short of me telling him about the baby? But I don’t want to do that. I really want to tell him in person.

Smiling naughtily, I type again. This might work. “It’s been two weeks. I miss your big, hard cock inside me.”

My cheeks flaming, I touch the send arrow.

Not even half a minute has passed and my phone beeps.

“Chopper picks you up first thing tom.”

I smile widely and type back. “I can’t wait to suck your cock.”

“Shut up.”

I giggle.

“Jeff…”

“What.”

“I miss you.”

I bite my lower lip, praying.

“Go to sleep, Mara.”

Ouch.

I type glumly, “Night. See you tomorrow.”

I turn to my side, sighing. I close my eyes.

I see his handsome face.

God, I do miss him.