"Does it still hurt, sweetie?"
Rosella's brows knitted tightly as she gently brushed the hair from her daughter's forehead, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Tala's face contorted with irritation, and her eyebrows arched in disbelief.
"Are you seriously asking me that stupid question, Mother?"
"Tala..."
"Don't you dare stand there acting like the judge and jury, Julio!" Tala hissed, her eyes blazing as she threw her younger brother a venomous glare.
Julio raised both hands up while backing away slowly from his sister's hospital bedside.
Tala jabbed a trembling finger toward the butterfly bandage on her temple, her voice sharp with fury.
"Five stitches, mum. Five damn stitches on my face!" Tala's voice cracked, laced with a mixture of rage and wounded pride. "And all you can manage to ask me is if it hurts? Are you kidding me?"
Rosella's heart twisted as she caught the icy sharpness in Tala's tone and the flicker of pain hidden behind her cold stare. Still, she said nothing. She knew her daughter's anger was only a mask for deeper wounds.
"I'm so sorry, my love," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"You don't have to worry, sis," Belinda chimed in softly, her voice as delicate as a caress. She reached for Tala's hand and gently stroked it. "You still look stunning. The cut's barely visible—it hides perfectly beneath your hair. And if it still bothers you, a quick cosmetic touch-up can erase it completely."
Tala shook her head, her lip trembling. "It's not the scar, Linda," she choked out. "It's my pride... shattered, stomped on." Her voice cracked as tears spilled freely. "Tonight... tonight was meant to be magical."
Her body trembled with sobs. "I was supposed to be the star—the belle of the ball. I planned to dazzle, to turn heads, to captivate my Prince Charming with every step I took. But instead…" Her voice faltered. "I passed out… ripped my dress… and collapsed like a fool in front of everyone."
Belinda exhaled slowly, her eyes clouding with the memory of the chaotic scene.
"I humiliated myself," Tala continued, burying her face in her hands. "I've become the joke of the night… I'm probably trending for all the wrong reasons."
"Correction," Julio interjected dryly, his gaze glued to his phone. "You are trending. We all are. Memes, hashtags, savage tweets—it's a circus out there."
"Shut up, Julio!" all three women shouted in unison, their voices laced with fury.
Rosella rounded on him, her eyes flashing. "If you can't offer comfort, then kindly get out. Your sarcasm isn't needed here," she said through clenched teeth.
Julio rolled his eyes, grabbing his jacket with exaggerated flair. "Whatever. I was just about to leave anyway." He hissed under his breath and strutted out, slamming the door behind him.
"This entire catastrophe… it all started because of that witch!" Rosella's voice dripped with venom as her gaze hardened into ice.
"How is she even alive?" Tala's voice trembled, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield against an invisible chill. Just the thought of Carmelita sent shivers crawling down her spine.
"There's no way she survived that suicidal leap. We all saw her mangled, blood-soaked body sprawled on top of that crushed car roof. That wasn't something anyone could come back from."
"Exactly!" Belinda cut in, her voice hushed but frantic. A shiver ran down her spine as her thoughts returned to the elegant woman beside their new CEO. "Unless… unless she didn't die. Maybe she lived through it because we never actually claimed her body at the morgue."
"Carmelita is dead!" Rosella snapped, her voice sharp with bitterness. "She died five years ago, after dragging my firstborn into his early grave. That woman beside Mr. Jomari is not that poverty-cursed, fish-stinking tramp. Did you see what she wore? The grace, the poise, the diamonds on her neck? That woman had the air of royalty—not someone who has ever tasted hardship."
"Then who is she?" Tala whispered, her brows creasing. Fear, and something dangerously close to jealousy, flashed in her eyes. "She was too close to Nathaniel. You saw the way they walked side by side. Could she be… his girlfriend?"
Belinda's eyes suddenly widened, an idea exploding in her head. "Wait… we all know Carmelita was an orphan, right?"
Rosella and Tala both nodded, their curiosity piqued.
"She bounced between foster homes all her life—until she landed with those lowlifes."
Rosella gave a sardonic chuckle, the memory clawing at her. "The day I first laid eyes on her… she reeked of the fish market. I still don't know what spell she used to lure my son in."
"Where are you going with this?" Tala asked, her tone sharp with impatience.
Belinda leaned in. "What if… she was a twin? An identical twin separated at birth?"
The room briefly fell into a stunned silence.
Then Rosella gasped, a sinister glint flashing in her eyes. "You brilliant girl. That would explain the uncanny resemblance."
"Are you saying Carmelita's twin is from a rich background?" Tala asked, already sensing a threat to her own position.
Belinda shrugged, her voice calm but laced with intrigue. "Stranger things have happened. There are stories where twins have been split at birth, one doomed to poverty, the other raised in opulence."
Rosella's tone shifted to one of warning, her voice laced with urgency. "If that's true, then we must never mention the name Carmelita again. If her vengeful spirit catches wind of our association with Mr. Jomari, it could destroy everything we've built."
"But what if—"
"There is no what-if!" Rosella cut Tala off coldly. "As far as this family is concerned, Carmelita never existed. We have no ties to her. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal, mother," Belinda replied sweetly, like a dutiful little soldier.
"What about Grandpa and the others?" Tala challenged. "How do you plan to erase her from their memories?"
A sharp knock interrupted the tension forcing all heads to snap toward the door.
Luzon entered, a man utterly transformed from a proud and enviable dictator to a weakling with dimmed eyes and sunken face, his shoulders drooping like a man who was about to lose his only child.
"Honey…" Rosella rose quickly. "What's wrong? Did someone… die?"
Luzon let out a heavy breath, each word soaked in dread.
"In a way… yes." He glanced toward Tala, then looked away. "How is she?"
"Tala is fine," Rosella snapped. "Now tell me—did you speak with Mr. Jomari? Did you ask about that… that woman?"
Luzon looked up at his wife as though he carried a corpse on his back. "We're in serious trouble, Rosella. We've angered a god… and now, we must face the wrath of Ray Bardin himself."
"What?!" Rosella clutched her forehead, staggered by the weight of his words. "What did Nathaniel say?"
"Nothing. Not even a glance. He spoke only to Miles… who told me to leave the event immediately and prepare the whole family for a 'proper reckoning' on Monday morning."
"Oh my God…" Rosella gasped.
"Dad, who is that woman?" Tala demanded.
Luzon stared blankly for a moment, then said, "Her name is Ivy Cruz. She's Nathaniel Jomari's personal assistant."
"Ivy Cruz?!" The three women echoed in unison.
Tala blinked in shock—then a slow, calculated smile curled her lips.
"His personal assistant…" she repeated softly, a glint of opportunity shining in her eyes.
"Well, that changes everything."