Everyone froze.

A convoy of black SUVs rolled into the yard. Doors opened in synchronized motion. The mayor stepped out, flanked by councilors and security.

“It’s the mayor,” Ricky whispered. “Be professional.”

Sheila hurried forward. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mayor. I’m Dr. Sheila Reyes—”

The mayor didn’t pause.

He walked past them, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

There, in front of the sink, stood Carding, sleeves rolled up, rinsing plates.

The mayor stopped, removed his hat, and bowed slightly.

“Ninong Carding,” he said respectfully, kissing his hand. “Apologies for arriving late.”

The entire house went silent.

“You… know him?” Ben stammered.

“The farmer?” Ricky added.

The mayor smiled.

“Farmer?” he repeated gently. “Don Carding Reyes is the largest landowner in this province. The mall, the university campus, the housing complex — they stand on his land.”

Faces drained of color.

“And more than that,” the mayor continued, “he funds scholarship programs for hundreds of students every year.”

Their mother stepped forward, tears shining in her eyes.

“Do you remember the scholarships that paid for your education?” she asked quietly.

The siblings exchanged confused glances.

“That money didn’t come from the government,” she said. “It came from your brother.”

“When your father passed away,” she continued softly, “Carding left school. He worked the fields day and night. Every peso he earned went toward your tuition. He asked me to call it a scholarship so you wouldn’t feel ashamed.”