Meanwhile
The garden shimmered with glittering lights, each one reflecting the raindrops left behind by last night's storm. The entire scene glowed like a magical haze pulled straight from a fairytale.
Patricia admired the view as she walked down the stone path toward a large, elegant gazebo nestled at the garden's center.
"This is beautiful," she murmured, eyes wide with wonder.
"It almost feels like I'm back home."
"You miss it that much?" asked Bernard, trailing behind her at a slow pace.
"Of course I miss it," Patricia replied.
"You have no idea how much I just want to bail out and return to the peace and comfort of my home."
She paused at the edge of the pond surrounding the gazebo, watching the colorful fish dart through the water like living jewels.
"Especially my beautiful tree haven—the one Isaac made for me. It's a little paradise in the middle of a vast field."
She smiled softly, crossing the bridge and stepping into the gazebo.
Bernard felt a sharp pang of envy at the mention of Isaac.
He still couldn't understand what that low-life stablehand had that he didn't. He'd even uncovered a dark secret from Isaac's past—one he was certain Patricia would despise if she ever found out.
He'd been tempted to spill it. To use it as leverage. To win her heart.
But seeing her like this—lost in a daze, smiling to herself—he hesitated.
He didn't want that smile to vanish.
She deserved this moment of peace. With the Marathon race looming, and that devil in the bulldog mask waiting to strike, she needed calm. She needed strength.
Even if it meant talking about that bastard, Bernard had no choice.
He sighed, shook his head, and quietly joined Patricia in the gazebo.
There was a long stretch of silence until—
"What's going on between you and Steven?" Patricia asked, breaking the quiet.
Bernard turned to her, caught off guard.
"Huh?"
"You and Steven," she repeated. "I could feel the tension between you two. I didn't even know you were acquainted. When did that happen?"
Bernard sighed.
"I should be the one asking you how you got tangled up with him."
He paused, exhaling slowly.
"Anyway... he and I go way back. Even before I discovered the thrill of the racetrack."
Patricia tilted her head, curious.
"Really? How far back?"
"Middle school," Bernard said. "Third grade. We met at a music contest tryout."
Patricia blinked.
"Music contest? Don't tell me you were one of the competitors."
Bernard chuckled.
"Would you believe me if I said being a horse derby racer wasn't my childhood dream?"
Patricia gasped.
"No way!"
"Yep," Bernard replied with a wistful smile.
"I actually wanted to be a drummer. Rocking out on stage, beating the drums, lost in the rhythm while people danced like wild things."
They both laughed, the sound light and easy.
"But... life had other plans," he added, his voice softening.
"And honestly? I couldn't be happier. Even with all the chaos that reigns in this sport... I'm still glad I ended up here."
Patricia smiled brightly at him.
Bernard looked at her—really looked. His heart thudded in his chest.
She looked ethereal beneath the soft glow of the gazebo lights. If only she didn't belong to someone else...
He would've kissed that smile.
Tasted her joy.
Melted into it.
But Bernard quickly averted his gaze, cleared his throat, and continued.
"Anyway... I met Steven at the music contest tryouts. He was just a first grader. We were both in line—he was going to sing, and I was there to play the drums. He stood right in front of me. We were all nervous, so we started chatting to calm our nerves. Introduced ourselves, talked about our performances... just being friendly." He paused, the memory softening his voice.
"When Steven's turn came, he went up on stage and started singing—but halfway through, he froze. Stage fright. The poor kid was shaking in his boots, staring at all those intense faces in the crowd. I knew he was about to lose it. So... I jumped on stage with my drums and started playing a beat that matched his song. It gave him something to hold onto. He found his rhythm, finished the song perfectly. It was a win-win."
"Wow, that's beautiful," Patricia said, her eyes wide with surprise.
"I never thought you had such a sweet heart under all that thick pigskin. Honestly, it's kind of shocking."
Bernard scoffed.
"What? You thought I was a bully when I was a kid?"
Patricia thinned her lips, shrugged, and raised her eyebrows in a playful maybe.
"Ha! Of course. Typical. I'm still a jerk in your eyes, huh? After everything we've been through? That hurts."
"Hey, don't blame me," Patricia shot back.
"You're the one who came at me all wrong. Of course I got the wrong impression. But I'm glad you didn't turn out to be the worst of my expectations. You might be gruff and rough around the edges, but you're a good man. And that's what matters most."
She grinned.
"You're still a jerk. But a good jerk. And that's... well, that's something."
"Ouch. Seriously? A good jerk?" Bernard said, feigning offense.
Patricia burst out laughing.
"What did you expect? 'A good pig in white silk'? 'A golden jerkass'?"
Bernard chuckled and shook his head.
"Unbelievable. What more did I expect from you, huh..."
He sighed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.
Her laugh was melodic.
And he couldn't get enough of it.
Patricia's laughter faded into a soft smile.
"Anyway... so, did you win the tryouts? Did you make it into the contest?"
Bernard shook his head and sighed.
"No. Even though our performance was good, we were disqualified for breaking the rules."
"Oh? But why?" Patricia asked, brows furrowing.
"We signed up as individuals, not as a duo. The judges couldn't make an exception."
He shrugged.
"But hell... like we cared. We walked out of that room with our heads held high, went straight to the ice cream café, and ordered the biggest sundaes we could find. Ate like there was no tomorrow."
He chuckled at the memory.
"We went home with stomachs twisted in abominable pain, laughing at each other the whole way. Aaah... those were some good times."
Patricia smiled and nodded.
"Sounds like you two were really close."
Bernard exhaled slowly.
"Yeah. We were. Pretty close. Practically best friends—from that day until high school."
Patricia tilted her head.
"Mmm... what happened between you?"
Bernard took a deep breath.
"He confessed."
Patricia blinked, confused—
Then her eyes widened in realization.
"Oh... my," she whispered.
"That must have been... hard."
"Yeah. It was," Bernard said with a sigh.
"Especially for Steven."
He stared into the pond, voice low.
"I didn't know he felt that way about me. I always saw him as a friend. A little brother. But... he didn't feel the same."
He paused.
"And things only got worse when McCoy showed up. Got him tangled in some shady stuff. That's when it all really fell apart. I didn't want to get involved, so... yeah. That's just how it ended."
"Mmm... I see," Patricia murmured.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's all in the past. No big deal," Bernard said with a shrug.
"Mmm... I guess," Patricia echoed softly.
A moment of silence settled between them as they watched the dancing lights ripple across the fish pond.
Then Patricia turned to him, brow furrowed.
"Wait. Did you just say things got worse between you and Steven when McCoy showed up?"
"Yeah," Bernard replied.
"A rowdy guy named Donnel McCoy transferred to our school. The type who didn't care for rules. Mysterious. Shady. I didn't like him one bit. But Steven... he fell hard. Got caught up in whatever McCoy was into. That's when he started to change. Turned cold."
"What else do you know about him?" Patricia asked, her tone casual—too casual.
Bernard raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in his eyes.
"Why do you want to know more about him?"
Patricia caught the shift and quickly chuckled, waving a hand.
"Oh, it's nothing. I just... heard a story about the McCoy family mansion. You know, the one that was abandoned years ago without any sign of foul play? I was just wondering if the guy you mentioned might be related to them, that's all."
Bernard didn't look convinced. He narrowed his eyes.
"Riiight... Well, I don't think he's connected to that McCoy family. The ones who lived here in Costa Rica—in the town of Peruz? They're all dead."
Patricia's eyes widened.
"What? What do you mean dead? What happened to them?"
Bernard sighed.
"No one knows. They disappeared—six hundred years ago. All of them. It's one of those old mysteries that was never solved. But some witnesses claimed they heard screaming and crying one night... and then silence. When people went to check, the entire family was gone. No bodies. Just streaks of blood on the walls and floors. Like something... erased them."
As Bernard spoke, Patricia's heart pounded in her chest.
A strange panic gripped her—deep, primal, and unfamiliar.
The box.
Her father had left it at that place for a reason. Maybe the answers she needed were inside that book he mentioned. She needed to find one. No matter what and get her hands on the truth.
"I am curious, though," Bernard's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.
She blinked and looked up.
"Huh?"
"How did you know about the old McCoy mansion and its story?" he asked, his tone edged with suspicion.
"That history was buried. No one just knows about it. Except a few select elites of the society. So... who told you?"
Patricia's mind flashed back to that night.
She'd been researching her great ancestor—Daniel Plumberry—and Queen Adriana Wiltshire of Arlene, trying to understand how their legacy connected to the strange events unfolding now.
That's when the article had appeared on her screen.
No author. No source. No IP address.
Just... there.
She pulled out her phone and quickly searched for it again.
Nothing.
No trace of the article. No mention of the McCoy family. No record of their connection to the Plumberrys. No abandoned mansion.
It was gone.
Like it had never existed.
Come to think of it... the message just popped up. No byline. No timestamp. No origin.
What the hell? Where did it come from? Who wrote it?
And why did it vanish?
Her thoughts raced.
Strange things have been happening ever since Isaac came back from Costa Rica... ever since he touched that cursed box.
Could it be that?
Could there be some unseen, unknown force tampering with events?
She had to find out.
She had to get to the bottom of this.
All the while Patricia was lost in thought, Bernard watched her closely, trying to read her expression. He could feel the tension radiating off her and wondered what was stirring beneath the surface.
She suddenly slipped her phone back into her purse and turned to him.
"I have to go. Something just came up. I need to get back to the hotel," she said hurriedly.
As she moved past him, Bernard reached out and gently grabbed her arm.
"You're just going to leave like that?" he asked.
Patricia turned to face him, her eyes sharp.
"Yes. I just told you—something important came up. Why are you stopping me?"
Bernard held her gaze.
"Do you really not know why? Or are you just pretending?"
He stepped closer. Patricia instinctively inched back.
His golden-brown eyes shimmered in the soft lighting, almost glowing. She was captivated—drawn in. His feelings were written plainly in his eyes.
He cared for her.
He wanted her.
A strange pull tugged at her chest. Her heart pounded.
Unaware, their lips inched closer.
But just before they met, Patricia turned her face away, breaking the moment.
Bernard exhaled sharply, a bitter snort escaping.
"You know exactly how you feel about me. Your actions say it all."
He leaned in, voice low.
"Don't worry... one day—just one day—you'll stop running from it. And you'll realize you made a mistake ignoring it."
He released her arm and stepped back.
"Good night, Patricia."
He turned and walked away.
Patricia let out a shaky breath, then slowly turned to watch his retreating figure disappear into the night.
"Hmph! The nerve of that jerkass," Patricia muttered, squirming.
"And the nerve of you, Patricia. How dare you feel something for that man!"
She whisper-scolded herself, pacing in frustration.
"I thought you were going to make it clear that he wasn't getting anything from you. You belong to someone else. So what the hell are you doing?"
"Grrr!" she growled, clenching her fists.
Then she took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing nerves.
"I need to get out of here. This place is a trap."
She muttered the words under her breath as she turned and walked briskly back toward the party, intent on leaving for the hotel.
---
Meanwhile
A figure stepped silently from behind the gazebo.
Black jacket. Jeans. Sneakers. A cap pulled low.
His blue eyes followed Patricia's retreating form, gaze heavy with pain.
His fists clenched at his sides as she disappeared from view.
"How can you expect me to trust you now..." he whispered, voice low and broken.
Then he turned and walked away, vanishing into the shadows.
Darkness swallowed him whole as thunder rumbled in the distance.