"Dad—"
"You rascal!" Alfonso bellowed, cutting off his firstborn before he could utter another word.
"You disgraceful fool! How dare you drag my name through the mud again?" He pounded his chest in fury, then coughed violently.
Here we go again with the 'my name...my legacy' sermon... Luzon muttered to himself, instantly regretting coming home last night.
"Have you seen the papers?" Alfonso hurled the morning bulletin across the room. Loose sheets fluttering like wounded birds through the air.
"We've become a joke! A stain on this city's face. What kind of curse did I inherit, to be plagued with such a senseless son and his shameless family?"
"Dad, how could you call your own family—"
Luzon ducked just in time as the old man's cane came flying at his head, smashing into the wall and shattering a priceless antique vase.
Luzon flinched at the crash, heart pounding from both the shock and his father's fury.
"Dad! Do you want to kill your only son?" he yelled, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Shut that stupid hole in your face you call a mouth!" Alfonso thundered, his whole frame shaking with fury. "You might as well be dead already because everything you and your family touch turns into poison."
Luzon's brow furrowed, lips tightening as though battling words he couldn't say aloud.
"Do you know how long it took me to secure a partner for AML Dynamics?" Alfonso's voice cracked with bitterness.
"The rejections… the humiliation… the sacrifices I made to keep this family above water. We were a breath away from bankruptcy when Ray Bardin came through. And you had the audacity to insult his team?! Nathaniel Jomari speaks for Ray Bardin himself."
Luzon's expression darkened. Shame flickered in his eyes as the disgrace of the previous night replayed in his mind—Miles' cold stare and the humiliating confrontation.
"Father, we didn't mean to cause a scene. We were… startled."
Rosella stepped into the room, poised for battle. She had heard the shouting from her bedroom and knew her husband wouldn't survive his father's wrath alone.
"Startled? What nonsense is that?" Alfonso snapped, turning his glare to his daughter-in-law.
"What Mom's trying to explain," Belinda interrupted, still in her pyjamas, eyes heavy with irritation, "is that we saw someone who looked exactly like Carmelita."
Alfonso froze. His nostrils flared. One brow lifted, while his lip curled in disbelief and disgust.
"Are you trying to get on my nerves?"
"No, grandpa. We all saw her. Tala even fainted and hurt herself in the process." Belinda explained, treading carefully.
"Linda, be a dear and show your grandfather the photo. Seeing is believing," Rosella said calmly, giving her husband a silent signal to let her steer the storm.
"Okay, Mom." Belinda unlocked her phone and scrolled to the photo she'd saved from social media—the stunning Ivy Cruz, posed confidently beside her boss.
"Here, Grandpa," she said gently, holding the phone up to his face. "This is the lady we saw yesterday. She's the reason we all panicked."
Alfonso's eyes widened. His jaw slackened and anger gave way to pure horror.
"No..." he whispered. Snatching the phone, he fumbled for his reading glasses and studied the image with trembling hands.
"Doesn't she look like Philip's widow?" Belinda murmured, her voice a mix of fear and curiosity.
"Impossible..." Alfonso's legs gave out. He nearly collapsed, barely caught by his son and granddaughter.
"Belinda, get your grandfather some water, quickly." Rosella sprang into motion, the perfect image of a caring daughter-in-law—now that the pompous old man was shaken.
"She died!" Alfonso looked up, horror swimming in his eyes. "Carmelita is dead. How can she be alive?"
Rosella saw her chance.
"That's not Carmelita, Father.
"What do you mean?" Alfonso shot her a venomous glare.
"Grandpa, here is your water." Belinda handed him a glass, her voice soft.
"Thanks." Alfonso took it, barely acknowledging her, still fixated on Rosella's explanation.
"The woman in that picture isn't Carmelita," Rosella continued smoothly. "That vile girl who shamed our family, with her adultery and unwanted pregnancy, drove Philip to his death and then jumped to her own death—that woman is gone. Tossed like the trash she was into the earth. She is forgotten. Whatever remains of her is dust and dirt."
"Then explain the photo!" Alfonso snapped. His voice was ice now—cutting, skeptical, and furious at Rosella.
"Her name is Ivy Cruz. We believe she comes from a wealthy family," Rosella said, her tone cool and calculated. "Unlike Carmelita, who was orphaned and raised in a poverty-stricken orphanage…"
"Hmm..." Alfonso muttered, eyes narrowing.
Even the maids paused to listen, pretending to clean up the shattered vase.
"We suspect Carmelita was an identical twin—separated at birth. If that's true, Ivy could be her biological sister. But we must tread carefully. We cannot resurrect the past. As far as anyone is concerned in this family, we do not know the woman named Carmelita."
Rosella ended with a smug smile, confident in her twisted brilliance.
Alfonso, however, looked at her with undisguised disgust.
"Finished vomiting your madness?"
"Father—" Rosella stepped back, the air tightening as Alfonso's anger reignited.
"I made mistakes," Alfonso rasped, his heart hurting afresh. "Five years ago, I should've looked deeper into that man who vanished after claiming to have seduced my granddaughter-in-law. Maybe Carmelita was blackmailed. Maybe she was broken. Maybe I pushed her to that ledge. But listen well—none of you will insult her memory with your convenient fiction."
He pushed himself to his feet, trembling—more from something deeper than rage. He stormed to the doorway and stopped, something sharp flickering behind his eyes.
"Did it ever occur to you," he said coldly, turning to face them, "that we never found her body? What if she didn't die that night? What if she survived the fall?" He took a long breath.
"I've seen many things in my lifetime… and I know the woman in that picture. She's no stranger to me. She is Carmelita. And I will prove it."
With those chilling words, Alfonso stormed out, leaving a stunned and terrified family in his wake.
-
-
It was mid-afternoon in the grand estate's expansive library.
Golden sunlight spilled generously through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room's curated mix of literature and abstract art.
Nestled in a sleek lounge set like two executives mid-strategy, Hiraya and her son, Griffin, sat before an open laptop.
Between them, a tray of freshly baked cookies, fruit slices, and juice added a cozy charm to the high-stakes meeting of minds.
On the laptop screen, a list titled, 'Top Ten Elite Elementary Schools in LampStone' was displayed
"Mummy," Griffin said, squinting thoughtfully at the screen like a pint-sized analyst, "what do you think about Lumin Academy?"
Hiraya blinked—trying not to smirk. That happened to be her top pick too.
"Oh?" she said, arching a brow. "Why Lumin?"
Griffin straightened his spine, cleared his throat with all the authority of a tiny boardroom chairman, and began:
"Well… statistically speaking, compared to the rest, Lumin Academy ticks all the boxes. It's a world-class school with an international curriculum, a heavy focus on STEM, and—bonus—it doesn't treat kids like clueless jellybeans.
Hiraya tried to hold back a laugh as she took a sip of juice.
"It has chess, coding for mini-programmers, Scrabble, music, robotics, logic games, and… fencing."
"Mm-hmm…" Hiraya hummed into her glass, her eyes gleaming.
Griffin narrowed his gaze. "Okay, what's funny, Mum?"
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. Your eyebrow did the talking. Is this because I like swords? I told you—I prefer strategy over stabbing."
Hiraya laughed. "Exactly! That's my boy. A general, not a gladiator."
"Fine. But I am polishing my Taekwondo just in case I need to defend your honour."
"Oh, what would I do without my little bodyguard?" Hiraya teased, reaching over to ruffle his ginger curls.
He giggled, then resumed his serious face. "Also," he added, "they have a rock wall, a zipline, and a real obstacle course. Basically, it's Hogwarts—minus the owls and existential danger."
Hiraya nodded in approval. "It definitely sounds like your kind of place."
Griffin glanced back at the list, finger scrolling like a seasoned CEO reviewing investment options.
"So… is that your final choice, boss?" Hiraya asked with a smile tugging at her lips.
He paused, theatrically contemplative, then looked up. "I think I'll visit both Lumin Academy and Hartwort Academy. I want to see which school smiles with their eyes… and talks to me like I'm not four."
Hiraya burst into laughter. "Deal. I'll call and set up a meeting for tomorrow."
They exchanged a look—equal parts respect, affection, and mischief—sealed in the kind of silence only soulmates understand, no matter their age.