1 Prologue

September 7, 2018

7:31 am

Felicia del Mundo

The sun shines bright once more. Why must I wake up this early? I scratch my eyes to help me get a sense that it is morning once more. As I was about to rise from the bed, my lover throws his arms upon me once more. It was as if he did not want me to leave the bed. Much to my annoyance, I throw his arms back to him. I pick up the clothes we have scattered from last night.

"Early bird, I see," my lover says hazily. "Come to bed. It is still early."

I can only give a brief smile. "I can't," I say as I buttoned up my blouse. "I have an interview later. I can't forever be an assistant to some CEO at whatever company. I need to use my skills. What use will my college degree be if I don't find a job that suits me?"

I know he is annoyed by my words, but it is true. I don't want to be a secretary forever. I want to do something meaningful with my finance degree. But, here we go again. Back to the interviews. I can only let out a sigh as I think things through. Suddenly, he embraces me from behind. He feels me from my chest and down below.

"Ah, don't think too much, Felicia," he says as he kisses my cheek down to my neck. "You can do it."

I break away from his kisses and look at him in the eye. I can't say whether what he says is true. Sometimes he speaks much lies that I don't even know anymore. "Do you think I should leave that damned company?"

He lets go of his embrace and puts on his pants. "You can leave," he says frankly. "You can also not leave. That's your world, Felicia. You are forever entwined with the world of the elite. That is one thing you can never escape."

All I can do is laugh at his honesty. Yes, he is right. I cannot escape. This has been all my life. I've been involved with the elite, the children of the elite, the wives of the elite. All in all, it drains me. Maybe if I just do some analyst work I can escape this damned world.

I see him take himself to the bathroom. He always takes a dump in the morning before getting ready. As I comb my hair, I notice something vibrating on my table. I see an unknown number calling me. As I was just about to pick it up, the call ends with a missed call. I have already missed nine of them. I began pulling up the dial and call up, when suddenly, a message from the caller appears on the banner.

"Come to me. I need you. Something happened – Guevarra."

Guevarra. Guevarra. One of the names from my past. I feel my palms sweat that I accidentally let go of my phone. My legs felt like giving up that all I can do is just sit on my bed.

Guevarra. Jonathan Elian Guevarra. What do they need? Can't they let me live my life in peace? Why can't they understand that I want nothing to do with them. I had enough of this. With all the fire burning inside me, I throw the alarm clock beside me.

Fuck it! They're here again.

Carlos, who has been in the bathroom for a long time, suddenly gets out and joins me. "Felicia, what happened?"

He knows. All it takes is just a look in my eye. I rarely get angry. My eyes convey all the fire I have right now. Still, he chose not to say a word.

"They're back, Carlos," I say grimly. "Our pasts have returned. They need me again."

I go to the hospital Guevarra sent me in a text – Hospital de Santo Domingo. It's not that far from my home, but at this rate, it looks like I will not able to make it for my interview. If I know something, it is that my interview will lead to nowhere anyway. The moment they called me, my interview is already cancelled. They will do everything to get my attention.

As I get out of the taxi in front of the hospital, I can already see Guevarra waiting outside. He smiles briefly, but with little sincerity. I can only return the emotion he gave. None of us are glad to see each other.

"What is this, Guevarra?" I ask instantly. "Why intrude my life again?"

"Nice to see you again, Felicia," he says sarcastically. "Is that how you great an old friend after not seeing him for years?"

"We are not friends, Guevarra," I say frankly. "Now, what has happened.

He sighs. I can see his temples aching with whatever the hell had happened. "Come," he beckons for me to follow him. "Come so that you may see."

We walked inside the hospital. I know this one. The hospital for the elite. It is always like that. The elite that can buy the organs of others so that they may continue their own lives and end another's. Such traitors to society. They only think about themselves. If you have the cheque, you can buy the entire world. This is why I know what the disheveled men in the halls have been through. They are victims of organ harvesting (or as the elite would call, organ trade). Fuck it. Even the doctors only care about the dollar signs at each treatment.

Silence fill the atmosphere of Guevarra and I. In the years that I have not seen him, time got the best of him. I see lines filling up his face. His high cheeks droop out of stress. For a handsome lawyer that won hundreds of cases, I can tell that the years have not been kind to him.

As we walk, I can already see the sadness filling up his eyes. Why cry now? But then, I look around the halls. It seems that everyone is crying around here. I see different circles of relatives crying amongst themselves. Then, at the end of the hall, I see a couple crying – the Romulos. It got me thinking. What does this part of the hospital have?

As we enter a room, I can already feel the chills going up my spine. Rows of cadavers can be seen. They are all covered with a white cloth and a toe tag at each of them. I have seen these many times. I'm not even the least bit shock with what the elite can do. "Just kill every last one of them. That's the easy way to go."

Suddenly, Guevarra leads me to a body at the end of the room. Though I have seen this before, I feel a sudden pang of fear for what he may ask me to do.

"Look at this," Guevarra says as he points to the cadaver in front of us.

I don't know what message he wants to convey, but I have no choice. I carefully lift up the cloth from this dead person. As I see the face of the cadaver, reflex gets the best of me. I let go of the cloth and look away.

Dear God? What have I seen?

"Is that – "

"Yes," he replies instantly. "This is Christine. She died in a car accident early midnight. It is said that it happened during the rain."

I can't erase Christine's dead face from my mind. Her cream-like skin is becoming blue due to the loss of life. I can see a wound from her head as if liters of blood poured out of it. Dear God!

I can feel myself shaking and disturbed. I cannot even manage to head for the door and leave this room. When I finally got out, I fall on my knees to save myself from fainting. I want to cry, but there is no sadness within me. I can only feel rage. Why die right now, Christine? Why? We have many problems left unsettled. What can we do now?

Suddenly, I feel Guevarra join me in my thinking.

I round on him. "Why must you shove her corpse before my eyes?"

"I don't know how to bring you here, Felicia," he says carefully. "Though I want to mourn, I have a job to do."

"And what is this 'job,' Nathan? Why can't you just call me at phone and tell me everything? Why can't you give me a chance to mourn? You might have given me some time to ready myself for her corpse."

"Felicia, you know I am Christine's lawyer. Now, as her lawyer, it is my job to settle the inheritance of her wealth. I need to give her wealth to the rightful heir."

"Oh, that's easy," I round on him again. "Just give it to her sister and parents."

"It is logical and lawful choice, but that is not going to happen."

My eyebrows meet as I wonder what he meant. Why can't her wealth go to her family? Then, I see him taking out a folded paper from his suit pocket.

"Read it," he says as he hands the paper.

I carefully unveil the paper. At first, I can't understand. It is in cursive. But then, as I squint my eyes, I understand the contents of the paper.

"I hereby will all my estates, assets, and fortunes to my beloved husband and my beloved son. This will shall be legally binding with my two maids as my witnesses. My lawyer, Attorney Jonathan Elian Guevarra and my dear friend, Felicia del Mundo shall preside over the allocation of my wealth to my rightful heirs. Written and signed on the 28th day of October in the year of our Lord 2017."

And at the end, there are the signatures of her witnesses and her own.

I could almost crumple the paper, but I can't. I hand over the paper back to Guevarra. "Is this legally binding? And, where did you find this?"

"Felicia, this is in her car," he says. "I asked the witnesses if they did sign this document, and they say it is true. They were there on the day Christine signed this paper. Since she signed it too, this is legally binding."

Then, it made me think. Why must I be involved in their problems? Can't they solve it on their own?

"Must I be involved? Must I help you find her husband and son that I never knew or met?"

"I thought that you might now," he says slowly. "You are her closest friend. You may know something about her… past and what happens behind closed doors."

Husband? Son? Dear God. Who are they?