The wind blows as softly as the seashore ravishing waves delved into the sand dunes. The spirit of placidness belongs to the trees surrounding the bench, where Benjamin Gustilo was waiting for Marco Junior. At the far end of the park, the black Mercedes Benz was silently parked with nothing to see of the car's exterior. Not to be seen the interior by people who have nothing to do with it.

Ben Gustilo still sitting at the bench looking straight at the water fountain that exudes its colors and rhythm for ten minutes. He glanced sideways to the left and saw the handsome man approaching him, "Hello Papa Ben, I...