YOU ARE STILL MINE

ENRIQUE SERRANO’S POV

After D.J had told us everything he’d remembered from our parents’ car crash; about how they’d argued over a grandchild, more of the missing seemed to fit into place.

“E.S is G.D.R, tell M.D.R,” I muttered under my breath as my brain connected the dots. “If M.D.R is Martina Dela Reyes…Veronica. Then…” With everything D.J had just said that must mean G.D.R was Gweneth Dela Reyes. Gwenie, the daughter I never even got the chance to meet, “who the hell is E.S?”

And what do they have to do with Gwenie and Veronica?

If one put two and two together, and considered the pictures in the photo album my mother had hidden among her things before she died, a sort of drunken idea begins to present itself.

Mom had collected pictures of the daughter of her husband’s mistress, Elizabeth. Elizabeth Serrano. E. S.

Brian remained silent. But when I saw him off, he said, “Rico, it’s been two years since the accident. Why is he just remember now, after your grandmother told him about Veronica? The timing is rather suspicious, don’t you think? And what he said about the man hanging around after the accident whistling, no respectable assassin is going to pull off a hit and make a mistake like that. They wouldn’t have left him alive, Rico.”

“Are you implying that my brother is lying?” I asked icily.

“No, it’s just…with everything going on with D.J. I mean, he’s been in therapy since your parents’ accident. And six weeks ago he tried to-”

“I know what happened six weeks ago, Brian. I remember it very clearly. It’s not everyday my teenage brother tries to take his life, you know?” I said dryly. “I take it you now believe he’s also starting to imagine things.”

Brian sighed. “Rico… I’m sorry, it’s just-shit, I don’t know what to do about this. I’ve never…with my own brothers, Adrian and the brats can be knuckleheads but I don’t know what I’d do if they ever told me something like this.”

“Of course, you know what to do,” I told him. “You’ll do what you’ve been trained to do. You’ll look into it. And I suggest you start with your Dad.”

He jerked at the words, staring at me with shock. “He would never-”

I cut him off with a raised hand. “The more I hear of the secrets my family keep, the more I find myself wondering exactly what your Dad would and wouldn’t do. He shouldn’t have helped my mom and Veronica but he did,” I reminded my friend. “Odds are he knows a lot more that what we’ve discovered today. I need to see him. But I’ll let you look in things first.”

Brian looked conflicted, so I felt bad when I had to say. “You should know, if I find out that he’s the one that carried out the hit – that arranged the accident two years ago…that killed my mother,” I looked my best friend straight in the eyes, “I’ll destroy him.”

Now, I stood in front of the floor the floor to ceiling windows in my office and watched the sun rise. Brian had left hours ago. D. J was sleeping on the couch in my office, having refused to leave with Ignacio last night.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now, bro,” he’d said sagely. “But don’t worry, you won’t even notice I’m here. I’ve got work to do…research for my blo-something.” He’d stammered at the end, unable to meet my eyes.

“The doctor asked you to rest-”

“I rest better when you are near,” he’d cut in, refusing to budge even after I put my foot down. But then again, had I really put my foot down? Part of me had been wary of the nightmares that would have surely come if I’d dared to fall asleep. I’d been too tired to sleep, but still my mind felt calmer, more stable and anchored because D.J was near.

He used to do this when he was younger; he used to fight and beg to sleep in my room whenever he was scared or troubled by nightmares. I watched the steady rise and fall of his chest now, as he slept. And more than ever before, I was worried for him. What if Brian was right and he was imagining things? ‘With the gravity of everything he’d remembered, wouldn’t that be a blessing in disguise?’ A tiny voice whispered in my head.

I sighed, and penned an email to his therapist. I sent another to his school to inform them that he wouldn’t be coming today for health reasons. Then I placed a call to the landlord of a certain two story building with grass-green gates. Somehow, despite all the things that had happened yesterday, I’d managed to find the time to make enquiries.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who lived on the top-most floor. I’d caught a glimpse of her yesterday night, and now I wanted more.

She owed me more.

Mr. Jose Hernadez picked up on the second ring.

“Good morning, Mr. Hernandez. I hope I didn’t wake you,” I said, when in fact, I didn’t really care.

“Enrique Serrano. You’re a hard man to get a hold of.” He’d been trying to arrange a meeting with me since it became clear that I was moving the headquarters of Highlander Incorporation to his city. He wasn’t the only businessman – or woman – in town who wanted to meet. Lalanita had already begun to receive dozens of invitations to fundraisers and parties, addressed to me. A lot of her neighbors were among the movers and shakers in Cebu, and like Mr. Hernandez, they were eager to meet me. So far, I’d done a good job of avoiding them.

But it had been less than a week.

“To what do I owe this surprise?”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” I lied pleasantly. “I just recently discovered that you own a property I’m interested in. If you don’t mind, I’d love to buy it, for a reasonable price of course. I’d like us to settle the details as soon as possible. Today.”

“Really?” I heard the man shuffling things around. “What property is this?”

I rattled off the address to where Veronica lived.

“The two-story building near the market area?” His interest was piqued. “May I ask why you’re so eager to acquire it? It’s not sitting on a gold mine or some precious mineral deposit, is it? Because that might complicate things?”

I smiled at the older man’s words, embracing the intricacies of striking a business deal. I loved this side of things, the whole negotiating song and dance. It was something I was good at.

“No, not at all. It’s a personal thing actually. My fiancée happens to be one of your tenants, and I thought it would be a romantic idea to gift her the deeds. I hope you don’t think that’s foolish of me.”

Mr. Hernandez laughed. “Of course not. We all tend to do silly things for love, but buying a building is a very good financial investment. That area in particular has a rather good property value.”

“I’m glad you approve. How much do you want for it?”

“How much willing to pay?” And I could have sworn that I heard his smile through the phone. Mr. Hernandez and I concluded our business in less than 30 minutes.

“My lawyers will get in touch with you within the hour, Mr. Serrano.” I liked the man instantly. People that carried out transactions without fuss were true jewels in the business world. “Though I’m not in Cebu at the moment, I look forward to seeing you at one of the community fundraisers one of these days.”

“I’ll also look forward to it.”

Then I put a call through to the local florist I’d discovered after a quick Google search. “I want a bouquet of yellow roses delivered to someone. I want you to send a card that says…” A wicked smile played at my lips. “You know what, I’ll write the message myself. I’ll have someone deliver it.”

VERONICA’S POV

I woke up on the heels of a nightmare. The clock read 3:30 a.m, much earlier than I had set my alarm for, but I couldn’t go back to sleep.

I couldn’t shake off the shadow of my nightmare, and the fear that had started to bloom in my heart since yesterday, when Rico’s younger brother recognized me.

I gripped the freezing cup of iced Americano in my hands tightly as I recalled the look on his face. The way he’d said his name. ‘Oh, yes, the boy had known who I was...and it was clear that he loathed me.’ The thought twisted something painful in my heart. Once – a long time ago – when Enrique used to tell me wonderful things about him, I’d hoped we would be friends.

But now, with whatever he knew – whatever his mother or Lalanita had told him – he was probably disgusted by me. Not only was I the woman who had taken his father’s money and broken his brother’s heart, my carelessness had also gotten his niece killed.

The thought brought another stab of pain to my heart, and I crunched the chunks of ice in my cup to dull it. Ever since the fire, ever since I lost my Gwenie to the flames, I was never the same. I couldn’t stand the sight of fire, could barely stand the touch of heat. Anything warm – a hot cup of coffee, hot food, sometimes, even another person’s touch – always seemed to remind me of the pain my little girl must have endured in that apartment in America.

I’d left her with my neighbor, her babysitter. Just for two hours. I just wanted to take a class at the community college. I just wanted to see if I could do something with my degree despite all the secrecy around my identity, secrecy I had taken on to protect Gwenie. But then…

“A gas explosion,” the firefighters had said, as I’d knelt down in the rubbles of the beautiful home for two I’d sacrificed everything to build.

Five years later, and it feels like I’m still kneeling down in the ashes.

Despite my fears, I stood up when my alarm rang. I went through the motions, took my bath, ate cold toast, got dressed and took my anti-depressants. Teaching at St. Lorenzo’s helped in a lot of ways. It gave me a chance to pretend I was just like every other person. Like every other teacher.

I was determined to have a normal day.

I took a cab to work and strolled into the teacher’s staff room with a cheerful smile on my face. “Good morning, everyone! How was your night, Professor Acosta?”

The Economics teacher grumbled, “Great.”

“Someone sent flowers for you!” Miss Santano said excitedly, pointing at the yellow flowers on my table. Yellow roses.

A shiver ran up my spine as a voice in my head screamed, “No!”

I wasn’t aware I’d whispered it under my breath, but Miss Santano was not listening. “There’s a card, Martina!” she gushed excitedly. “An expensive looking one!”

With shaky hands, I reached for it. The words in it were printed in an elegant cursive I instantly recognized:

“Three things, V:

1) You are still mine.

2) You owe me.

3) 7:00 p.m. today. The Galatea. I’ll send a car.

Only one person ever sent me bouquets of my favorite yellow flowers. Only one person would ever call me V. Enrique Serrano had finally found me.

“He’ll send a car?” I whispered. “Then that must mean…”