The morning sun had already burned the early humidity out of the air when Wes's black SUV eased off the driveway. The city was already fully awake, vibrating with its signature rhythm. The weary groan of aging commuter buses, the cheerful, rhythmic calls of street vendors hawking breakfast specials, and the daredevil weaving of motorcycles darting between lanes with the casual, practiced recklessness of Manila.
Inside the quiet cabin of the vehicle, Mina sat upright in the passenger seat, the seatbelt a familiar, reassuring line across her light floral blouse. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat, practical ponytail—a concession to the persistent, sticky heat she was still adjusting to. Wes, at the wheel, projected a familiar, effortless composure. He wore a crisp navy polo, comfortable khaki pants, and plain, unremarkable sneakers. The only thing that subtly suggested a life beyond the mundane was the matte black Panerai hugging his wrist, a watch understated in its color, yet possessing the kind of weight and sharp precision only a truly expensive piece could convey.
"Where are we going exactly?" Mina asked, momentarily pulling her attention from the stream of colorful jeepneys zipping past her window.
"Greenhills Mall," Wes replied, his voice level. "It's significantly closer than the Mall of Asia, and their electronics section is surprisingly well-stocked. Crucially, it's got a good assortment of restaurants and food stalls to keep you satisfied in case you get peckish later."
Mina grinned, catching the faint hint of planning in his words. "You really do think of everything, Uncle Wes."
He offered a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "Habit."
The twenty-minute ride was easy, a comfortable space filled with casual commentary on the radio's pop anthems, the surprising number of Korean celebrities endorsing products on billboards, and shared, eye-rolling comments about the chaos of the city traffic. Every few minutes, Wes would flick a glance toward her. Mina, pointing out something interesting or laughing softly at her own observations, looked utterly alive, a stark, bright contrast to when she first arrived in Manila.
He bypassed the busy valet area and parked the SUV deep within one of the lower basement levels. He preferred it that way. Quiet, minimal interaction with attendants, and, most importantly, no unnecessary witnesses to their arrival.
As they walked toward the brightly lit mall entrance, Mina couldn't help but observe how easily Wes dissolved into the crowd. He wore no visible designer labels, no loud statements. His presence wasn't about flashy wealth; it was about an innate, quiet confidence in how he moved, a stillness that drew attention only if you were looking for it.
Mina blinked, a thought, quick and surprisingly vivid, flashing through her mind. Just how much more handsome would her uncle Wes be if he ever decided to truly dress up? If he traded the quiet comfort of his polo shirt and khakis for a bespoke suit or a form fitting designer shirt?
The image sent a sudden, unwelcome wave of heat rushing to her cheeks. She instantly banished the thought, mentally shaking herself as they rapidly approached the wide, gleaming entrance of the mall.
The moment they stepped through the glass doors, the climate-controlled air was a welcome relief from the muggy heat. Mina's eyes, wide with contained excitement, darted across the colorful shopfronts.
"Alright," Wes said, leading her into the packed electronics hub. "You take the lead. You're the one who knows what you need."
Mina nodded enthusiastically, her focus instantly narrowing. "The phone hunt begins!"
She stopped at the first store, pressing her face close to the glass display. "Hmm… decent specs, but the camera resolution is weak. This one's cheaper but the battery life is better…"
Wes watched from a slight distance, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips as she moved with the methodical focus of a seasoned researcher.
"Price is eighteen thousand pesos here," she muttered, checking the tags, "but the shop down the hall might have a bundled promo."
He smirked. "Conducting proper market research, are we?"
She turned, giving him a playful, slightly defensive look. "Of course! I don't want to waste your money. I just need something reliable for texting, good photos, and maybe a little video editing. It doesn't need to be fancy."
They filtered through three shops. By the fourth, Mina was crouched low, frowning at two nearly identical black slabs in a glass case.
"This one's twenty-two thousand but has less storage. The other is twenty-five with better overall specs, but—"
"—but?" Wes prompted, hands casually settled in his khaki pockets.
She sighed, glancing at the second price tag with genuine distress. "I just feel bad spending that much. I mean, you already offered to buy it, but—"
Wes cut her off smoothly, turning his attention to the nearby sales clerk, who had been hovering patiently. "What is your latest flagship model? The absolute newest release."
The young clerk blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in focus. "Sir, we just got the newest Galaxy Ultra and the latest iPhone 17 Pro. Both are top of the line."
"Right," Wes said, his gaze returning briefly to Mina, then back to the clerk. "I'll take the iPhone, please."
Mina's head snapped toward him, her ponytail swinging. "Uncle Wes! That's not— I mean— that's absolutely way too much!"
He offered a calm, unhurried smile. "You said you need something for work and videos, yes? Let's get you the best tool for the job. No compromise."
"But I don't need—"
"It's fine," he interrupted gently, his steady gaze silencing her protest. "Think of it as an investment. You're just getting started here. You might as well do it right."
Mina's mouth opened, then closed. She couldn't argue with the quiet certainty in his tone. There was no arrogance in the gesture, no hint of showing off, just an almost military efficiency in choosing the optimal equipment.
The sales clerk, already mentally counting a massive commission, rushed to fetch the box. "Cash or card, sir?"
"Card," Wes said, reaching into his wallet. His movements were quick, efficient, and utterly unbothered, as if an eighty-thousand-peso purchase before lunch was as routine as picking up a newspaper.
Mina stood beside him, still slightly dazed. "You really, really didn't have to do that…"
"I wanted to," he replied simply, signing the terminal receipt with a flourish.
When the small, pristine white bag was handed over, Mina took it carefully, almost reverently. "This is insane," she muttered, peering at the iconic logo. "It's the nicest phone I've ever seen."
Wes's smile deepened faintly. "Then take good care of it. And set up a strong password. No posting dance videos until it's fully configured."
She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "No promises."
They retreated to a coffee shop nearby, sipping iced lattes while Mina, now completely absorbed, began the lengthy setup process. She was all smiles, testing the camera, taking random, candid photos of Wes whenever he glanced away.
He noticed, of course. "Are you taking pictures of me?"
"Maybe," she replied with a mischievous grin. "You're surprisingly photogenic when you're pretending not to care."
He chuckled softly, stirring the last of the ice in his glass. "I'll take your word for it."
Outside, the city's cacophony continued, oblivious to the quiet shared moment inside the small cafe, a man who navigated the world of shadows and a girl rediscovering joy through a fresh start.
Mina glanced up between screen taps, her voice soft with sudden insight. "You know, Uncle… you really surprise me sometimes."
He looked up, intrigued. "How so?"
"You act like a normal guy, just easy and regular, but every now and then you do something that feels… bigger. Like there's a whole other world you're not showing anyone."
Wes paused, the warmth from his coffee cup radiating through his fingers. He met her gaze, his smile steady and impenetrable. "Maybe there is," he admitted. "But not everything needs to be shown."
She nodded thoughtfully, accepting the boundary without pressing for more.
They spent the rest of the morning strolling, enjoying the comfortable mall air, their light jokes and easy companionship blending seamlessly with the weekday crowd. Wes kept the day simple, unassuming, exactly what he needed to be. But Mina could feel the quiet authority beneath the plain clothes, a confidence that couldn't be entirely hidden.
And as they settled down with cold ice cream and refreshments, the true weight of the day settled over Mina. She realized her gratitude extended far beyond the high-end phone or the wonderful, easy hours spent wandering the air-conditioned sanctuary of the mall. What she truly treasured, the feeling that warmed her more than the sun outside, was the simple fact that Wes had become a part of her life.
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To the casual observer, Wes Chai was exactly what he appeared to be: a charming, dotting uncle, enjoying a quiet afternoon treat with his lovely niece, Mina. He sat across from her in a small, artisan dessert shop, the kind that smelled faintly of dark chocolate and burnt caramel. The shop was located on an elevated patio just outside the main thoroughfare of the mall.
But for Wes, this scene was a meticulously crafted piece of camouflage. It was a performance designed to sell the world on the concept of Wes Chai, Family Man.
His single status had been easy enough to excuse in his late twenties and thirties. An ambitious career, a quiet life, all perfectly acceptable and justifiable. But the moment he'd turned forty, the needle on society's scrutiny meter had flickered dangerously into the red. A bachelor living alone suddenly shifted from "eligible" to "a little odd."
Mina, with her innocent charm and bubbling personality, was his perfect solution. Her presence instantly softened the edges of his public persona, transforming the solitary man into "Uncle Wes, the Guardian," a responsible, functioning adult. At least, that's what Dana, the Chief of Public Perception at UMBRA, had assured him when he'd first broached the topic of asking Mina to move in.
He'd chosen this particular dessert shop not for its acclaimed pistachio macarons, but for its strategic positioning. It lay slightly detached from the bustling center, offering a clear, uninterrupted field of view across the sun-drenched parking lot and the sprawling office park beyond.
Wes took a slow sip of his black coffee, the porcelain cup warming his hands. He hadn't spotted his usual observer today. A predictable asian man who favored a beat up '93 Toyota Corolla thinking it would draw less attention in the sea of new cars that was Metro Manila. For a hopeful minute, Wes entertained the thought that his persistent efforts at normalcy had finally convinced his tail's employer to cut their losses.
Then, he caught a glint of sunlight.
It was less than a second, a pinprick of concentrated light reflecting off something polished, cold, and distant. It came from the rooftop of the glass-and-steel data center building, roughly six hundred yards away, a perfect, elevated sightline directly to their seated positions
A reflection off a lens. A high-powered scope, professionally aimed.
Not my tail's usual style, Wes thought, the heat from the coffee suddenly feeling insufficient. That man was sloppy, favoring proximity over precision. This was different. This suggested training, patience, and expensive equipment.
Either his usual tail was replaced, or someone new has tuned in to watch the Wes Chai Show.
His face remained casual, smiling softly as he focused on Mina struggling to get the tiny plastic macaron knife to slice through her pastry. Beneath the table, his thumb moved with economical speed across the secured, encrypted chat on his mobile phone.
He didn't look down. He didn't hesitate. He just tapped the message out to Richard and let him deal with the rest:
STILL UNDER OBSERVATION. USUAL TAIL GONE. POSSIBLE NEW PLAYER.
With the message sent, Wes offered Mina a gentle, natural smile and reached for the pastry, transforming back into the unassuming uncle who was simply helping his niece with a tricky dessert. The show, as always, had to go on.