Even before Foca could properly sit down and decide how to deal with the publishing company responsible for the outrageous article, the company moved first.
Out of nowhere, a public statement dropped.
An apology.
They admitted fault. Took "full responsibility." Promised accountability.
And just like that—
the publishing company declared bankruptcy.
Ceased operations. Gone. Vanished.
No long fight. No drawn-out scandal cycle. Just poof.
The reason followed swiftly.
A floodgate burst open—skeletons tumbling out of closets that had clearly been locked for decades. Extortion. Fabricated stories. Public manipulation. Abuse of employees. Executives tangled in money laundering. Sexual abuse cases involving staff. And those were only the ones already substantiated, already headed toward courtrooms.
There were whispers—quiet but persistent—that far worse revelations were still buried, waiting for the right moment to surface.
Watching it all unfold, Foca couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips.
He knew exactly who was behind it.
He picked up his phone, opened the family group chat, and typed a single word.
"Thanks!"
Seconds later, every single message was hearted.
That alone eased a massive weight from his shoulders.
The publishing company was handled.
Now all that remained were Akesh, Adel, and the handful of former trainees who had followed their lead—coming forward with stories that unraveled the moment anyone applied even a shred of logic.
Why they did it?
No one with common sense could tell.
It was messy. Ugly. Reckless.
Foca already knew legal action was inevitable.
The only question left was how far he was willing to go.
Of course, with the story already tearing through the outside world, it didn't take long for word to reach the island.
Phones and social media were allowed—under strict, explicit guidelines tied to airtight NDAs—but doom-scrolling was one of the few freedoms the trainees still had.
And doom-scroll they did.
Kang Ian was the first to crumble.
The moment he realized his trauma had been broadcasted to the world, his body betrayed him. A full-blown panic attack hit—breath shallow, chest tight, thoughts spiraling.
What terrified him most wasn't the public.
It was his parents.
And Silas.
What would they think of him now?
That question alone felt heavier than any hate comment ever could.
Mika wasn't spared either.
The article triggered him so violently that he spiraled—vomiting, purging, shaking. He'd been doing better. Fighting. Healing.
And one article dragged him right back to square one.
Worse still was the thought that the very people who caused his eating disorder—his so-called family—would now see exactly what they'd reduced him to.
That fear hollowed him out.
Jordan, surprisingly, held it together better than anyone expected.
When the others worried over him, he just shrugged lightly.
"Yeah… it hurts," he said quietly. "But I've heard people call me a retard so many times that it doesn't sting as much anymore."
No bitterness. Just truth.
"That was basically my whole life in China. My dad doesn't believe in mental illness. Doesn't believe I'm on the spectrum. He just told me to man up."
The room stayed silent.
"My mom… she wasn't really equipped to raise me because of him. But she tried. She really did. She was the one who convinced my dad to let me go to ballet school—because I loved dancing so much."
He smiled faintly.
"Being autistic and a boy doing ballet? Yeah. Perfect recipe for bullying."
He endured it. All of it.
"When it got really bad and my dad still refused to see it… my mom took me. Secretly. We moved to the Philippines to escape."
His voice softened.
"And honestly? That saved me. I found best friends there. Ride-or-die types."
A pause.
"It's kinda sad. My dad never looked for us. Last I heard, he has a new family now. A perfectly normal son."
Jordan exhaled, then gave them a small, crooked smile.
"So yeah. I'm… okay."
Beat.
"But I'll probably cry later."
And no one laughed.
They just sat with him—letting that quiet bravery speak for itself.
****
For specific trainees—Kang Ian, Mika, and Jordan—Foca made a rare exception.
He granted them permission to receive calls from their closest family members and loved ones.
It wasn't a rule he bent lightly. Contact with the outside world was powerful—dangerous, even—but right now, these three needed grounding more than isolation.
When Kang Ian saw his mother's caller ID flashing on his phone, his first instinct was to run.
To disappear.
To pretend the phone was never there.
His chest tightened, heart pounding so loudly he thought others could hear it. Every unresolved memory clawed its way to the surface. Shame. Fear. Guilt. That old, familiar voice telling him he was too broken to be loved properly.
But therapy had taught him something different.
Let people in.
Especially the ones who love you.
So when the phone lit up for the fifth time, Kang Ian inhaled shakily… and answered.
The moment he heard his mother's voice, whatever walls he had left collapsed.
His parents cried—openly, unapologetically. They kept apologizing, over and over, for not being there when he needed them most. For missing the signs. For not protecting him sooner.
"We love you," they said again and again.
"We've always loved you."
And Kang Ian cried.
Not as the man he was now—but as his fourteen-year-old self, finally getting to speak. Finally being heard. Finally being held, even if only through a phone screen.
It was messy. It was ugly.
It was healing.
Mika didn't receive a call until late into the night.
When his phone finally rang, the name on the screen made his breath hitch.
Jenny.
His older sister.
There was a big age gap between them, but she was the only person in his family Mika had ever truly felt safe with. She worked in healthcare—always busy, always exhausted, living separately from the rest of the family.
Whenever she visited, Mika hid his condition. Smiled harder. Ate better. Lied convincingly.
He never wanted her to see how deeply their family had broken him.
So when her name lit up his screen, Mika hesitated.
One missed call.
Then another.
By the third ring, his hands were shaking as he answered.
"Mika…"
Her voice was soft. Almost motherly.
That was all it took.
Mika broke.
Fresh tears spilled as sobs wracked his body. "Jenny… I'm so sorry," he cried.
"Don't you dare apologize," Jenny said gently but firmly. "You are not the one who should be sorry."
She tried to stay strong—but her voice cracked, tears slipping through despite her efforts.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you during your darkest times. I'm so, so sorry, Mika." Her Australian accent thickened as emotion overtook her. "Please believe me when I say this—you are perfect just the way you are. You don't have to change for anybody."
She took a breath, steadying herself.
"I will always be here for you. Always. You can come to me whenever you need, and I'll come running. I love you, Mika. I love you so, so much."
"I love you too, Jenny," Mika whispered.
He might have been back at square one.
But this time, his support system is stronger than ever.
Jordan received his call almost immediately.
It was his mother.
He answered without hesitation.
In Mandarin—
"Son, are you doing okay? Do you need me to come there?"
Her worry wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.
"Mama, I'm fine," Jordan replied softly. "You don't need to worry too much. Your son is strong. I have really good friends here helping me, so please—take care of your health."
"That's good," she said, relieved but still fierce. "Next time this happens, tell me who did it. I'll deal with them myself, understand?"
A faint smile tugged at Jordan's lips.
"Yes, Mama. I love you."
"I love you too, my son. Stay strong."
After the call ended, Jordan's phone buzzed nonstop.
Messages from his best friends in the Philippines flooded in.
"Akla! Don't you dare believe what them bitches be spouting. Shunga-shunga lang ang mga echoserang fraglet!"
— Half German half Shepherd (Henry) 😝
"Teh, wag papaagos sa mga hanash ng mga bonakid. Gora lang ng gora! You can do it! Jiayou!"
— Marky 💅
"Jordie, don't ever listen to those idiots. They never had the privilege of knowing you. You are amazing, and we love you so much. Jiayou!"
— Allison ❤️
"Babe, we gottchu alright. Keep being amazing! Jiayou!" — Straight Friend Luke😍
Jordan laughed softly through misty eyes.
No matter how heavy the world became, his friends always knew how to pull him back into the light.
And right now—
That was exactly what he needed.
.