The First Diary

September 10, 2018

8:43 am

Felicia del Mundo

Morning. I should really be at work right now, but this should only take an hour's worth of my time. I carry the box on one hand and my briefcase on another. I walk in strides that I walk pass students rushing for the train station. As I walk, I cannot help but remember my argument with Carlos yesterday.

"How did you get this?" I asked instantly out of fury. How could he keep secrets from me? He made me believe all along that he gave me this necklace. He made me a fool to think as such, when in fact, it was Christine all along.

Carlos can hardly speak. He falls back to our bed in utter regret. He sits with his head in shame, as if he cannot believe what he did. "Attorney Guevarra gave me the necklace," he said slowly. "He said that that necklace is meant to be given to you in the unlikely event that Christine should die. Now that she is dead, the necklace is now yours."

What is this foolish reason? I can feel myself preparing to throw the box at him. As I was about to throw the box, I can feel my temper dying down. Right, this is not Carlos's fault. "Are you in correspondence with Guevarra all along?" I said, trying to calm myself down. "Do you know something that I know nothing about?"

He rose from where he sits and began taking me into his arms. "No, Felicia," he said consolingly. "I would never fool you. I will always tell you everything that is related to our pasts."

He placed his arms over mine and began rocking me like a child. Slowly, I begin to feel gentle with him again, but I still have my questions. "Then why didn't you just give the necklace earlier without making me think that it came from you. You could have just said that Christine wants me to return this necklace back to the store for some goddamn reason."

He patted my cheek as if to console me again. "Felicia, if I told you that that way, you would not even want to open the box. I know you and Christine had your share of unsettled differences years ago. Maybe, there is a reason why she would want you to return this necklace. I will always be yours. Not even my past can take me away from you."

I looked at him again. All I can see is desire gleaming from his eyes. I threw the box to the side without any hesitation. In a surge of a moment, I took his lips into mine and so did he. Our tongues met like swords in a battlefield. Suddenly, clothes were all over the place. That was just the beginning of an act of love.

As I walk into this upper part of town, I can already see various affluent men walking amongst themselves. They walk in their suits and ties, not minding the heat of this country. Women walk with their shades on their eyes, briefcase on one hand, and a trench coat over their body. I walk in a forest of buildings competing for the tallest building title in this country. As for me, I mind not any of them.

A little more walking, I see this mall 15 storeys high. I look at the box once more, and I am right. This is the right address of the jewelry store. I walk inside the mall. Much to my surprise, the guards began expecting me thoroughly. A metal detector is not enough. They felt my body for any inconspicuous weapons of any sort. They even checked my briefcase thoroughly by having me open each pocket of it right before my eyes. This is one freaky mall.

As I pass security, I can finally marvel at the beauty of this place. Escalators are all over the place. Chandeliers are thrown everywhere as if it does not cost a fortune. The pillars of this mall are Corinthian in inspiration. A golden fountain lies at the heart of this ground floor. In fact, every corner of this mall is laden with gold.

I look at the address on the box once more. They are at the eighth floor of the mall. I see the elevator by my side and began to rush for it. Just in time, right before the door is about to close, I get in on time. I can tell that my fellow passengers are giving me the looks. Even the elevator girl gives me a sharp gaze. The hell with all of you. I am a passenger like any of you. Once again, I check the box. I must not get the name of the store wrong. It is called Shimmers. I open the box to check whether the necklace is safe in its place. Good. It has not moved a bit.

As I close the box, I look around my fellow passengers. Are they in awe of what I am carrying? Is it because I am carrying an expensive necklace that suddenly you think I am higher than you? Those that looked at me with scorn, now gives me a pleasant smile. Fuck you. I know what you are doing.

Oddly enough, it looks like I am the first passenger to go. It's first stop is the eighth floor. As I leave, I can already see those passengers waving me a goodbye. Psh! I know that you are trying to get on my good side. Sorry, people. I am just a CEO's secretary. I have no money like you.

I walk around this mall. As I walk, I can already see designer stores flaunting their wealth around me. Whether it be Prada, or Louboutin, or Louis-Vuitton, or Gucci, you could already see the tags of expensiveness screaming from their throat.

As I walk, I now find a jewelry store right before my eyes. I see the name. Shimmers. I look at the box again. Shimmers. I can see that they are only starting their day. They are doing their inventory and quality check.

I walk with my heels clattering at their shop. Nothing screams fancy than a Louboutin at your feet. I can see the salesladies judging me from head to toe. As I reach the counter, I place the box on their display.

"I would like to return this jewelry, please," I say as confidently as possible.

The cashier already began giving me the look. I suppose she thinks that nobody walks out of this store and returns as an unhappy customer. But today, that will have to be me. She opens the box and looks at the jewelry. I can tell that she, too, is shocked that I am returning a black diamond necklace.

"Madame, are you sure you want to return this?" she asks, with controlled excitement in her voice. "This necklace is quite rare and – "

"I am absolutely sure," I say with a smug smile. "A friend of mine just gave me it to me, and I am not pleased to have such. . . jewelry."

I can see her giving a nervous smile. She suddenly swallows some saliva that got stuck in her mouth. She raises a finger to indicate my patience. "I'll be back with my manager," she says hesitantly.

She leaves me with the display all around me. The gold is pure 24k. The silver appears to be high quality Italian silver. Even the diamonds are hundreds of carats in nature. No price tag is attached to each item. Of course. Who would look at the price tag when the elite could buy a human organ?

Suddenly, her manager appears. He is a no-nonsense man with a sharp moustache on his face. His haircut is cut clean, with no imperfections for impression. His suit is sharp, sharper than a swordsman's sword. His hair, graying from age, is still kept well-kempt. Lines are all over his face, but he is still a jeweler.

"You wanted to return a jewelry, madame?" he asks gently. "No customer has ever returned a jewelry in our company's history. Why return it? What makes you unsatisfied with our service?"

"No unsatisfaction, sir," I say smartly. "This diamond necklace was just a present from a friend. I wanted to return it back here. I understand that Christine Romulo is one the richest heiresses and businesswomen in the country. I shan't want to keep this as a reminder of her death."

Suddenly he thinks for a minute. He pulls up a fancy book from under the counter. The book is bound in leather and golden thread. Even the handwriting is in gold as he opens the pages one by one. It is like a logbook with names, but I cannot understand what they mean. I see him glide his fingers across the page. Suddenly, he stops at a familiar line of text – Christine Romulo. Then, across her name, there is mine.

Astounded with what he saw, he shakes his head for a minute to get a sense of the world. I see his wide eyes still in shock of whatever anything means right now. He first carefully hides the book under the counter again. As he shows himself again, I see him trying to prepare his words. With his hands folded together as if in prayer, he finally begins to speak.

"So, you wish to return this jewelry?" he asks again.

"Yes," I say patiently.

"Good. Ummmmm, may I have some identifications first?"

I don't know what that means, but ok. I pull out my wallet as I browse through my identifications. I just give him my driving license. He scrutinizes it as if he cannot believe that it is me in the picture. He should not worry. I only had my license updated months ago. Of course, the woman in the picture is me. He returns it back to me.

With widen eyes and speechless tongue, all he could do is let out a sigh. "Right, follow me, Miss del Mundo."

He beckons me into the jewelry store's storage. Inside the storage is a tight hallway of displays of various jewelries. I can see the more expensive models being displayed here. From the rarest of pearls to the purest of diamonds, you can see it all around here. At the end of the hall is a door that of a vault. I see him entering a passphrase, then scanning for fingerprints, then a facial recognition, then a retina scan. That is only when the vault opens, revealing many safety deposit boxes.

As he guides me in, he appears to count the number of the safety deposit boxes around him. He turns back to me and he can see my awestruck face. "Miss del Mundo, have you any idea what returning that necklace means?"

"No," I say frankly. "In the box of the necklace, it says that I should return it here if I don't like it. She expects that I would return it anyway and I should do just that. Her lawyer handed me the necklace after her death. Does that mean anything to you?"

I look at him, and he still appears stunned with the matter. "No. We keep safety deposit boxes here for the keeping of important items. In the case of a certain death, we urge the depositors to give a sign to a close relative or friend to claim the important item from us. In your case, it is the return of one of our most prized models of jewelry."

We stop at a certain deposit box. He pulls out a set of keys chained to his belt. There are no names attached to the boxes. Only numbers. This is possibly for confidential reasons. What can I say about this jewelry shop. It is great at keeping things confidential. This seems to be the safety deposit of the rich. Nothing says hidden like a jewelry shop. No one expects anything deep to be hidden in here.

When he finally opens the box, I see him pull out a book and a few paper notes. "There, that is all Miss Romulo handed us a year or two ago. Do keep it safe, Miss del Mundo. You are the only one entrusted with those documents. Whatever it contains, it must be that important."

I exit the jewelry store with my head held high. I know I cannot open this book inside the store. Instead, I retreated to some open sitting place at this mall. No one seems to be bothered to sit in this mall. It seems fitting that I can read this book in peace without any interruptions.

I lay down the book on my lap. It is just a simple journaling book with the cover made of blue leather. Before I opened the book, I looked at Christine's note.

"Felicia, thank you for returning the necklace to the store. I suppose you now know that I entrusted you to help him give my fortunes to my heir. I could tell you right here and now who it is, but if I do, I know you will burn the will as if It had not existed.

I know you cannot trust my wealth to my chosen heir, that is why I need to make you understand first. You can only find out my chosen heir as you read my diary. There, I have written notes in various places to selective clues on who my heir is. I need to make you read this book.

And, also, rise from where you are sitting. I know that your anticipation in reading my special document from the jewelry store. Don't read it in the open. I know how your mind works."

Wait. . . How did she know that I would sit and read this at the mall?