Chapter 4

RAIN

We drove along the rugged dirt road in Uncle Wart car, the tires crunching over the gravel as we made our way toward Auntie Lori's house. Every bump sent a jolt through the vehicle, and I clung tightly to my duffle bag, worried it might tumble off my lap. The cool night breeze slipped through the slight crack in the window, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and pine. The moon, bright and full, illuminated the uneven road ahead, casting long shadows from the towering trees that lined the path.

Just hours ago, I had been in Alex’s office. While he worked at his desk, I busied myself browsing through the books on his mahogany shelf, occasionally glancing at him as he typed away, his brow furrowed in concentration. Lunchtime came, and we shared a meal of homemade lasagna that he proudly cooked himself. The room had been filled with laughter, the kind of effortless joy I rarely experienced. But that lightness evaporated the moment his phone rang.

I noticed the change in his demeanor immediately. His shoulders stiffened, and his expression darkened as he listened intently to the person on the other end. When he finally spoke, his voice was sharp, authoritative, as though he were issuing orders. Something urgent had come up, something serious. He ended the call abruptly and turned to me.

“I need to leave,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “There’s an emergency. I’m flying out tonight.”

I blinked, confused. “Flying out? Where?”

He waved off my question, his mind clearly preoccupied. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I can’t leave you here alone. It’s not safe.”

I frowned, crossing my arms. “Alex, I’ll be fine. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

But he was insistent, his frustration mounting. “I don’t care what you think you can handle. I’m not taking any chances. You’ll stay with Auntie Lori until I get back.”

Seeing the worry etched on his face, I reluctantly agreed. I knew better than to argue further when he was in this kind of mood.

Now, here I was, far from the villa, as the car finally came to a stop in front of a large gate. Beyond it, a sprawling two-story house bathed in warm yellow light stood at the end of the driveway. The ground was still damp from the rain earlier, and I stepped carefully as I got out of the car, the chill of the evening air seeping through my jacket.

Auntie Lori greeted me with a kind smile, carrying a few grocery bags in her hands. Her weathered face radiated warmth, the kind of comfort you’d find in a grandmother’s embrace. She handed a Tupperware to the uncle wart, inside were left over steaks.

“Thank you so much for helping us, Wart,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “Here, take this for you and your family. A little something from Ma’am.”

Wart grinned as he accepted the container. “Thanks, Lori. And thank you, Ma’am,” he said, nodding at me.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, offering a polite smile.

“You better get going,” Auntie Lori said, motioning toward the car. “It’s late, and your wife’s probably wondering where you are.”

With a quick farewell, Wart climbed back into the car and drove off, leaving us standing in the quiet night.

Auntie Lori turned to me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, dear. Mosquitoes are biting, though I’d rather they be biting Sir Alex instead.”

I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “Auntie, what are you even saying?”

She chuckled, her laugh soft but knowing. “Oh, don’t mind me, child. I’ve been around long enough to know a thing or two about these things.”

I followed her through the gate, marveling at the property. The yard was expansive, with neatly trimmed hedges and flower beds that seemed to glow faintly under the moonlight. A few chickens wandered freely, clucking softly as they pecked at the ground. When we reached the house, I couldn’t help but admire its charm. The front porch was wide, with a pair of rocking chairs positioned next to a small table. Inside, the house was even more impressive. The living room opened up into a spacious area with high ceilings, cozy furniture, and shelves lined with family photos and trinkets. To the right, a few steps led up to the kitchen, its counters gleaming under the warm light. A staircase made of polished wood curved gently to the second floor.

As I set my bag down near the couch, Aunt Lori gave me an encouraging smile. “Make yourself at home, iha. You’ll be safe here. Sir Alex made sure of that.”

I nodded, trying to shake off the lingering tension from earlier. Safe, I thought. But why did Alex seem so sure I wouldn’t be safe anywhere else?

As I surveyed the room, I noticed a man in a wheelchair sitting quietly in the living room, his gaze fixed on me. Before I could say anything, Aunt Loti walked over to him with a warm smile.

“This is my husband, Rafael,” she said, motioning toward him.

I walked closer and gave a small nod out of respect. “Good evening, sir,” I greeted politely.

He smiled faintly, his voice soft when he replied, “Good evening to you, too.”

Auntie Lori turned back to me. “I’m sure you’re tired, dear. Let me show you to your room,” she said, already moving toward the staircase.

I followed her up the concrete steps, glancing around as we ascended. On the walls were several framed photos—families beaming at the camera, a few wedding portraits, and one particular picture of a younger sir Rafael. He looked almost carefree, a rare smile lighting up his face.

When we reached the second floor, she led me into a spacious bedroom. The walls were made of smooth cement, and the furnishings were simple: a sturdy bed with crisp white sheets, a small round table by the corner, and a window overlooking the backyard, where the moonlight softly illuminated the garden below.

“This will be your room,” she said with a hint of apology in her voice. “I hope it’s okay—it’s not much.”

“It’s perfect, Auntie. Thank you so much,” I replied with a smile, trying to reassure her.

As she lingered in the doorway, she added, almost as an afterthought, “You know, dear, the only reason we have this house is because of Sir Alex.”

I blinked, surprised. “Really? He built this house for you?”

She chuckled lightly and shook her head. “Not quite. But he helped us build it.”

I tilted my head, curious. “Why? Did you not have a house before?”

“We did, but it wasn’t like this,” she said, her voice softening as if remembering the past. “Years ago, Sir Alex’s parents gave us work. They owned a big mansion and a welding business where my husband worked. But then, a terrible accident happened—Rafael was injured when a steel beam fell on him.”

My heart sank at her words. “What happened? How did that happen?”

“It was an ordinary day. Rafael slipped on wet cement, and the beam lost its balance. It fell on him before anyone could react. He almost ended up paralyzed,” she explained, her voice steady but tinged with the weight of old pain. “But Sir Alex—he was there. He pulled that beam off Rafael himself. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Alex lifted the beam?” I asked, astonished. “That’s incredible.”

She nodded, a soft smile touching her lips. “He’s strong in more ways than one, dear. That’s why so many people respect him.”

Then, with a glint in her eye, she added, “And perhaps, why someone like you has caught his attention.”

Her words caught me off guard, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “Auntie, what are you even saying?” I said with a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off.

She chuckled knowingly. “Oh, don’t mind me, iha. I’ve seen enough in my years to know what’s in a man’s heart.”

Before I could say anything else, she smiled and stepped back toward the door. “Get some rest now. You don’t want to ruin your beauty sleep,” she teased, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

I let out a deep sigh, setting my bag down on the small table. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside. I turned off the light and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day swirled in my mind, refusing to settle.

Alex’s influence over Auntie Lori's family was undeniable. He wasn’t just their employer—he was their hero. And yet, he carried himself with such quiet restraint, never revealing the weight of his actions or the kindness behind them. It was hard to reconcile the man they spoke of with the stoic, enigmatic Alex I knew.

And then there were my own questions. Why had he been so insistent on sending me here? What was this emergency that had him rushing off so abruptly? And why did he seem so desperate to keep me safe? The more I thought about it, the more the unanswered questions gnawed at me.

I turned my gaze to the window, where the moon hung low in the sky, its soft light casting shadows across the room. I hugged the pillow close, letting the cool night air soothe my restless mind.

With that small hope, I let sleep claim me, though my dreams were filled with fragments of questions that had yet to be answered.

I woke up to the sound of loud, vintage music playing early in the morning. Curious and slightly annoyed, I made my way downstairs. In the living room, I saw Uncle Rafael, eyes closed, swaying gently as if savoring the music flowing from the old speakers. The song was unmistakable—“Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers.

“You’re awake, sweetheart. Come, breakfast is ready. Sorry about the noise; it’s always like this here,” Aunt Lori greeted warmly, busy setting the table. The smell of fresh waffles and crispy bacon filled the air.

I smiled and took a seat at the table. Across from me sat Dasha wearing a complete look of a teenager gangster. She was hunched over, totally absorbed in her phone.

“Dasha, put that phone down and eat your breakfast,” Aunt Lori scolded, hands on her hips. “I’m telling you, staring at that thing all the time won’t make your crush text you back.”

“Mom! That’s so rude! I don’t even have a crush,” Dasha snapped, clearly annoyed and a little embarrassed. “I’m just reading stories on Kindle!”

“Kindle? Isn’t that the app where all those steamy, raunchy novels are? The ones that make Fifty Shades look like a church sermon?” Aunt Lori said, her tone dripping with suspicion.

“Mom! That’s not true!” Dasha protested, blushing as she stabbed at her scrambled eggs. “Kindle is for all kinds of stories, okay? And not all of them are… you know, like that.”

Trying to keep a straight face, I took a sip of coffee, but it was hard not to laugh.

“Well, I saw it on F******k,” Aunt Lori said seriously, crossing her arms. “There was this screenshot someone shared. It said, ‘Spread your legs and let this big dick destroy your pussy'.’”

I choked mid-sip, coffee spewing from my mouth onto the table.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?” Aunt Lori exclaimed, rushing to my side. Dasha quickly got up, patting my back with one hand while holding her phone in the other.

“Mom, please stop,” Dasha said, laughing but mortified. “Next time, don’t believe everything you see on F******k. Kindle isn’t just that—it’s a haven for lonely bookworms like me.”

Aunt Lori softened, her shoulders dropping. “Sorry, dear. I just worry about you. I want you to grow up good and decent,” she said earnestly, her voice tinged with emotion.

I paused, moved by her tone, then blurted out without thinking, “Wait—was Dasha a demon child growing up?”

The room fell silent. Aunt Lori stared at me, stunned, while Dasha burst out laughing so hard she almost knocked over her orange juice.

“Sweetheart, demons aren’t real,” Aunt Lori finally replied, shaking her head in disbelief.

Before I could respond, Uncle Rafael chimed in from the living room. “Hey, do you think that herbal ointment I saw on TV will really make my—you know—stand tall again?”

The entire room froze. We all turned to him in slow motion, utterly stunned.

“RAFAEL!” Aunt Lori shrieked, clutching her chest as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Have some shame, will you?”

Dasha doubled over, laughing so hard she was practically crying. “You guys are too much! I can’t handle this,” she said, grabbing her plate and retreating upstairs.

Aunt Lori dragged Uncle Rafael back to the couch, muttering under her breath about how much of a handful he was. She plopped him down and left him there, still shaking her head.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop myself from grinning. Uncle Rafael's question lingered in my mind. Could that ointment actually work? The idea was so absurd I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Maybe I’d bring it up as a joke to Alex later—his reaction would be priceless.

As I finished my coffee, still trying to suppress my amusement, “Unchained Melody” played softly in the background, mixing with the smell of freshly made waffles and the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the window. This house was chaotic, but in a way, it felt like home.

It had been a few days since I arrived at Aunt Lori's house, and while life here was enjoyable, it was beginning to feel a little repetitive. Dasha’s constant laughter every time I asked a question didn’t help. I was always serious, but she treated everything I said like a joke. Despite my annoyance, I’d grown to like her. She was mischievous but kind in her own way.

Most of my afternoons were spent lounging in the barn at the edge of their property. The old wooden beams smelled faintly of hay and earth, and I’d sit by the open doors, gazing out at the trees that surrounded their home. The tall pines swayed gently in the warm breeze, their branches casting long, dappled shadows on the ground. Sometimes, Uncle Rafael would join me, humming old songs and telling me stories about how he used to serenade Aunt Lori. His favorite was “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley—the song he sang to her under a full moon the night he proposed. It was romantic in a way that made my heart ache. I wished someone would do the same for me someday.

But then there was Rico—Gwen’s irritating older brother. He never missed an opportunity to tease me, calling me names and suggesting that we should “just get married already.” The nerve! He and his best friend, Jairo, were always around, fixing fences, carrying logs, or chopping wood. Jairo was the quiet one—tall, tanned, and broad-shouldered, with a calm demeanor that made him seem older than his years. Despite his family’s wealth, he never acted entitled, and I couldn’t help but admire that. Dasha, on the other hand, didn’t hide her admiration—she had a massive crush on him. Honestly, they’d make a cute couple, and I silently rooted for them.

One morning, I was sitting in the barn, the soft rustling of leaves filling the air, when Dasha approached, holding her phone out to me.

"Maam, Sir Alex is calling," she said, her voice soft.

I sighed. Alex had confiscated my phone after the “incident,” claiming it was for my safety. It felt excessive, but I didn’t argue anymore.

I took the phone and pressed it to my ear. "Is this you, wife?" Alex’s deep voice came through the line.

"No, it’s your imagination," I replied dryly.

"Thank God. I can finally hear your voice. Are you alright there?" he asked, relief evident in his tone.

"I’m fine. Eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner, like a good girl. Nothing new," I said flatly.

"Maybe you should let me have my phone back," I added, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "I promise I won’t go looking for other men. Your pandesal is enough for me."

There was a pause.

"Rain! I didn’t know you could be wild like this," he said, laughing softly.

"Guided by an expert," I teased.

"Whose expert? Are you with men? Tell me so I can put their hotdogs in buns and feed them to cannibals!"

I burst out laughing. "Relax, Alex. It’s just Dasha. You’re so dramatic. Anyway, when are you coming home?"

"Soon, love. Just wait for me. Be a good girl. Daddy’s coming home," he replied, his tone dropping an octave.

Before I could respond, I heard shouting in the background. Alex’s voice turned sharp. "You idiot! Get the money to the garage now, or I’ll—"

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, confused. What was he up to now? Shaking my head, I handed the phone back to Dasha and walked into the house.

Aunt Lori was in the kitchen, chatting with Uncle Rafael. She turned to me and smiled. "Rain, we’re heading to the Castilian villa later. It’s Mr. Castilian’s birthday. Want to come with us?"

"Is Uncle Rafael coming?" I asked.

"No, dear. It’s too much for him to travel. It’ll just be me, you, and Dasha. Go get ready."

I nodded and went upstairs. After a quick nap, I changed into a light blue sundress with tiny floral prints, pairing it with white sandals. I kept my makeup minimal—just a touch of blush and lip gloss.

By the time I came downstairs, Aunt Lori and Dasha were already waiting outside. A sleek black car pulled up to the gate, driven by Uncle Wart. In the passenger seat sat Jairo, his usual stoic expression intact.

Dasha practically skipped to the car, her cheeks pink as she slid into the seat beside Jairo. Aunt Lori and I took the back.

As the car started down the winding road, Uncle Wart teased, "Dasha, are you okay? Or is your heart beating too fast because of Jairo?"

Dasha’s face turned bright red. "Uncle, stop it!" she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched.

Everyone laughed—Aunt Lori, Uncle Wart, and even me, who had joined us. I stayed quiet, glancing at Jairo through the rearview mirror. He didn’t laugh. Instead, he stared straight ahead, his jaw tight.

For some reason, his seriousness unsettled me. Was something bothering him? Or was he just naturally like that?

I leaned back in my seat, the cool leather against my skin, and let the conversation fade into the background. The road ahead was lined with trees, their branches forming a canopy that danced with the sunlight. The warmth of the day and the soft hum of the car made me feel strangely content.

The drive to the Castilian estate was long, and by the time we arrived, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a cool, soft glow over the hills. As we passed through an enormous wrought-iron gate, the car followed a cobblestone path lined with towering oak trees. Their branches intertwined overhead, illuminated by warm string lights that seemed to dance as the car moved.

In the distance, the Castilian mansion came into view—a grand Georgian-style estate with white pillars, large bay windows, and ivy creeping up the walls. Lights bathed the mansion, creating a majestic aura that made it seem like a scene from an old movie. The driveway was packed with luxury cars, from sleek sports models to stately sedans, while off to one side was a surprising line of motorcycles, their chrome glinting under the lights.

As we stepped out of the car, the cool evening air carried the faint sounds of a live jazz band and the hum of laughter. Following a flagstone path, we made our way to the back of the estate, where the party was in full swing. The centerpiece was a vast rectangular pool, its surface reflecting the string lights hanging above like tiny stars. Guests in elegant cocktail attire mingled, holding glasses of champagne and plates of hors d'oeuvres. Waitstaff dressed in crisp white shirts moved gracefully among them, offering trays of food and drinks.

The air was rich with the scent of freshly grilled steak and roasted vegetables. Tables were laden with English delicacies: beef Wellington, Yorkshire puddings, smoked salmon canapés, and an assortment of cheeses with crusty bread. There was even a dessert table with treacle tarts, sticky toffee pudding, and a towering trifle topped with fresh cream and berries.

We were greeted by a striking woman in a floor-length emerald gown adorned with sparkling emerald earrings. She had a warm yet commanding presence.

"Lori, you’ve finally arrived! Come, there’s food prepared over there," she said with a welcoming smile, motioning to the long banquet tables.

Her polished tone and effortless grace made it clear this was the lady of the house—Doña Rosalie Castilian, the matriarch of the family. She turned her sharp eyes to me, scanning me from head to toe with a kind but curious gaze.

"And who is this lovely young woman?" she asked, raising a perfectly arched brow.

"This is Rain, the wife of Alex," Aunt Lori answered cheerfully as she balanced a plate filled with roast beef and potatoes.

Doña Rosa smiled, extending her hand to me. "Welcome to our home, Rain. Please, enjoy yourself."

"Thank you," I said politely, shaking her hand before she excused herself to greet other guests.

The party felt overwhelming. I took a modest plate with some smoked salmon and a slice of quiche and found a quiet corner near the dessert table. Aunt Lori, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying herself, piling her plate high with Yorkshire puddings and gravy.

Dasha, ever the cheeky one, smirked as she watched Aunt Lori. "Mom, you’re going to need a second plate at this rate."

"Let me enjoy myself, Dasha. It’s not every day we get food like this," Aunt Lori replied, clearly unbothered.

As I sat nibbling on my food, I noticed Rico standing by the pool with his usual smirk, surrounded by a group of young men. Jairo was there too, quieter but somehow commanding more attention. Rico’s eyes caught mine, and he raised a glass in a mocking toast, making my blood boil. I turned away, focusing on my plate.

After a while, I excused myself to grab a drink. The champagne was crisp and refreshing, but as the night wore on, I realized I needed to find a restroom. I asked a passing server, who kindly directed me to a hallway inside the mansion.

The villa’s interior was just as grand as the exterior, with marble floors, chandeliers, and oil paintings lining the walls. As I walked down the hallway, I froze. Just ahead, in a dimly lit alcove, I saw Rico—and Gwen.

They were locked in a passionate kiss, their bodies pressed against the wall. My breath caught in my throat. Rico must have sensed me because he pulled away and turned his head. His face darkened, but Gwen only smirked.

I quickly turned and continued toward the restroom, my mind spinning. Weren’t they siblings? Or was there something I didn’t know?

After splashing water on my face to calm down, I stepped out of the restroom and was immediately cornered by Gwen. She was stunning in a scarlet dress that hugged her figure, her lips painted the same vibrant red. But her eyes were sharp and full of warning.

"You didn’t see anything," she hissed, her voice low but full of menace.

I straightened my back. "What I saw isn’t my business, Gwen. Don’t worry."

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Good. But just so you know, Rico and I? We’re not really siblings. Step-siblings, actually. Not that it’s any of your concern."

My stomach churned. "That’s still disgusting," I muttered, stepping past her.

Her cold laugh followed me down the hall. "Careful, Rain. Or should I say… Penelope?"

I froze mid-step and turned to her. "What did you just call me?"

She pulled a photo from her clutch and handed it to me. My hands trembled as I looked at the image. It was of me—wrapped in the arms of a man who looked strikingly similar to Alex, both of us laughing and carefree.

"This isn’t real," I whispered, my voice shaky.

"See to believe," Gwen said with a smirk before sauntering away.

I clutched the photo, my heart pounding. Who was Penelope? And why did she look exactly like me?

I stumbled back toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter and drinking straight from it. The alcohol burned, but I didn’t care. I just needed to forget, even for a moment.

"Rain, what the hell are you doing?" a familiar voice asked, jolting me.

I turned and saw Alex—or at least, someone who looked like him. My vision blurred slightly from the wine.

"Alex?" I whispered, stepping closer.

"You’re drunk," he said, his brow furrowed.

Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Kiss me, please," I mumbled, tilting my face up toward his.

"Rain, this isn’t—" But I didn’t let him finish. I pressed my lips to his, and for a moment, he froze. Then, he kissed me back.

Before I could process what was happening, a loud thud echoed through the kitchen. The man I had just kissed stumbled backward, clutching his jaw. It's Rico who I just kissed!

Standing there, fists clenched and eyes blazing with fury, was Alex—my Alex.

"I came back to this?" he roared.

"Alex, it’s not what you think—"

"Get in the car. Now," he barked, his voice cold and sharp.

Before I could protest, he grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me out of the mansion, ignoring the stares of the other guests. He shoved me into the passenger seat of his car and slammed the door shut before getting behind the wheel.

The drive back was silent. The tension in the air was suffocating, and I could feel his anger radiating off him.

My mind raced with questions.

Who was Penelope?

What was going on?

And how would I explain any of this to Alex?