Bryan's POV Emelda and I sat shocked and confused for a while as we tried to process the information we had just heard. “What do you mean?” Emelda asked, her eyes still widened in shock as she stood up abruptly, panic and fear evident in her eyes. “Kids, what kids?" I asked, my voice trembling with emotion as I stood by Emelda's side, totally lost. I forgot Emelda had broken the news about her pregnancy a few months after we had separated. "Our kids, Martha and Marco," Emelda answered, her calm voice turning sharp. Ignoring Emelda's outburst which was obviously due to the emotions whirling up in her inside, I turned to face the driver who had delivered the news. His face was pale and drawn as he stood before us, he was shaking from too much adrenaline brought about from the fear he felt. “When and where did this happen?” I asked, my voice cracking as I tried to gather any information that could be helpful. "Just an hour ago," the driver said, his voice barely audible as
Bryan's POVImmediately, I reached out to Emelda, my hand on her arm as I tried to calm her, my words soft and reassuring as I spoke. "We have to trust the police, hun." After much struggle, I was able to calm her down as she listened to my words. “Will we get them back?” She asked, her words not seeking an answer but a strong reassurance. “We will hun. We will.” I answered. Taking Emelda by the hand, we sat on the long bench at the waiting area. “No, I can't wait anymore.” Emelda voiced as she suddenly stood up. She was scared and frustrated. “It's either you and your team move in now or be prepared to have a dead woman in your station.” Emelda threatened, her eyes red hot. As Emelda's words echoed through the station, the officer's demeanor changed, his face tense and focused as he nodded to his colleagues, his words quick and decisive as he ordered them to take action.Within minutes, the police had mobilized, their cars speeding through the streets as they headed towards Nat
Emelda's POV The hot rays of the scorching sun pierced through the white cotton curtain, smooching my wearied skin as I bent over the kitchen floor. The kitchen floor was as stubborn as a mule as it laid unyielding beneath the almost worn out brush I held in my hands as I scrubbed away at the stubborn stains on it. "Arghh!" I let out softly. I was exhausted and my back aches due to the hard chores and labor I had been subjected to by my stepmother. As I scrubbed further, tears rolled down my eyes as past thoughts of how I never had to do anything because my dad would always provide a maid. After my mother died with my baby brother during childbirth, I became the next most important person in my father's life until he met Juana, my stepmother. And after his mysterious death last year, everything became worse. My mind wandered back to the first time I met Juana. After years of grieving over my mother, and with the responsibility of taking care of me, my father decided to remarry
Bryan's POV "Argh!" I let out softly, my forehead furrowing as I tried to sit up, holding my head which was pounding furiously. The scent of the early morning sun rays and its warmth mixed with the scent of the sunflowers sitted calmly in the ceramic vase close to my window filled the room. As I stretch lazily, blinking away the haze of sleep still heavy on my eyes, I realize I'm not alone. A woman is lying next to me, the sheets pulled up to her chest. "Hassshh!" I sighed as I struggled to recall the events of last night's party. I had gone out like every other night, and had returned drunk. Quickly, I tap her shoulder. "Get up," I say gruffly, "It's time to go." "Uhmmm…" She muttered softly, her tone showing she was still very much sleepy. "I need more sleep." "Yesterday night was so good that it took all my strength away." She added, a flirtatious smile appearing on her face as she ran her hands across my hairy chest. "Get up and leave!!" I growled with a frown. "Fine
(Jonathan's POV) I sat on the edge of my bed as I dial the caretaker's number, my mind filled with the events of the past hour. Dealing with Bryan is always draining. As the phone rang, my eyes drifted to the framed photograph on my bedside table. It was a picture of my son, Bryan Jr's father and his wife, smiling and happy. They were the picture of perfection, the embodiment of everything I had worked for. But all that had been taken from me in an instant, in the blink of an eye, in the crash that had claimed their lives and left me a broken man. "Good afternoon sir." The caretaker's voice echoed through the phone. I swallowed hard the rising thoughts of my dead son, recollected my thoughts and focused on the task at hand. "Good afternoon," I replied, my voice terse and businesslike. "I need to discuss a matter of some urgency." The caretaker, accustomed to my no-nonsense tone, quickly agrees to meet with me. "Of course, Mr. Rodriguez," he answered. "Is there anything I
(Jonathan's POV) "You can stop here," I uttered softly to my driver, who like the caretaker had served me for years. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself." "Okay sir," he responded, parking the car a few meters away from the bus stop. My skin was instantly grazed by the hotness of the sun as I stepped out of the limousine and began to walk towards the commercial bus that was still taking in commuters. "You can sit over here sir," a young teenage boy gestured towards me as I scouted for a seat. "Oh, thank you." I nodded, a faint smile visible on my face. As the wheels of the bus began to move, my mind wandered back to that fateful day when I met Emelda. It was one year to the day since I'd lost my son and daughter-in-law in a car accident, and filled with grief and sad memories of them both, I'd sought solace in the bottom of a bottle in a bar which I later found out was owned by Emelda's stepmother. The liquor had numbed my senses, dulled my pain, but only for
Emelda's POV As I walked into my room, my stomach gave out a rumbling noise, accompanied with a sharp pain. It was obvious; hunger pangs. I hadn't eaten since the previous night and it was past noon already. Holding my stomach so tightly, I collapsed onto the bed as my aching muscles due to cleaning and cooking yearned for rest. I was exhausted and it was clearly visible on my face. Just as I'm about to drift off to sleep, the door opens, and my stepsister, Natasha, barged in. "Emelda," she snapped, her voice shrill and accusatory. "Why haven't you cleaned my room yet?" Rubbing my eyes, I sat up, "I was busy," I replied, my voice quiet. "Busy?" Natasha repeated, her voice dripping with disgust. "Busy doing what, exactly? You're just simply lazy, Emelda, a worthless little servant." I bit my lip as I tried to hold back the anger rising within me. "I'm not lazy," I answered back, my voice stronger now. "I work hard for this family, and I deserve some respect." Natasha's fa
Emelda's POV It was two in the afternoon when the cab which carried us from the bus park came to a halt in front of an old dilapidated apartment complex. "We are home, " Jonathan announced before stepping out of the vehicle and walking over to the other side of the car to help me out. As my silver sandal heel kissed the floor, a knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I stood still for some time as I looked around what was now my new environment and new home. I was jolted back to reality immediately Jonathan who had been talking to the cab driver tapped me softly on my shoulders. "Shall we?" He beckoned, a weathered smile on his wrinkled face. He was a good man, but I couldn't help but feel disgusted that he had gone past me and made a deal to marry me, like I was a property easily sold and bought. Still overwhelmed, I only nodded as I followed him. As we made our way up the stairs, the stairwell leading up to his unit reeked of stale cigarette smoke and mildew, and the d