SATURDAY
It had been a week since the accident. Sharlene sat in silence, her hands folded in prayer, hoping—begging—for any sign of improvement from Ashley.
Please, Lord. Protect my daughter. Keep her away from danger.
Ashley. The name echoed relentlessly in her mind, heavy with worry.
Life had been nothing short of cruel. First, the accident that nearly took her daughter. Then Martin filed for divorce and threw her out of their home. Now, she was facing a lawsuit for humiliating Sheila in public. Misfortune seemed to shadow her every step.
She didn't even know who to prioritize anymore. Where could she possibly turn for help to cover Ashley's daily hospital expenses? Every additional day in the hospital only added to the growing mountain of bills.
Stay strong, Sharlene, she reminded herself, letting out a long, weary sigh.
But even that was easier said than done. Beyond the physical world, another problem loomed—the terrifying truth about Ashley's soul being imprisoned. The thought of it made her feel like she was losing her mind.
With nowhere else to go, she had returned to her childhood home after being kicked out by the man she once called her husband.
"Sis, have some coffee first." Vivianne offered her a warm mug.
"Thank you, Vivianne," she replied softly, taking it in her trembling hands.
"What time is the doctor coming to assess Ashley?" Vivianne asked, sitting beside her.
"This afternoon, I think…" Sharlene replied, unsure. "Do you have something to do?"
"Why? Do you need me to buy something?" Vivianne responded, concern etched in her voice.
Sharlene shook her head but couldn't hide the deep thoughts racing through her mind.
"Tashia told me about what happened," Vivianne said quietly, lowering her voice so others wouldn't overhear.
Sharlene looked at her, startled. She hadn't told anyone else about it.
"I traveled last night," Vivianne began seriously.
Sharlene stayed quiet, sensing something important was coming.
"They brought me to a house I didn't recognize. The client with Grandma... she looked about your age. She knew the person locked up in the cell."
Vivianne sighed, her expression troubled.
"And here's the thing… they're involved in Leah's death," she added, her eyes locked on Sharlene.
"Leah?" Sharlene repeated the name, which stung like a shard of memory.
"Yes. That woman we kept seeing at Grandma's wake. I know you saw her too," Vivianne reminded her.
Sharlene gave a slight nod.
"But how did Grandma get involved?" she asked quietly.
Vivianne sighed again, her tone heavier now.
"Leah was one of Grandma's clients. But after she was killed, she asked Grandma Felicia for help. In exchange for peace, Leah offered her wealth. And Grandma… Grandma took the deal," Vivianne said, her voice tinged with bitterness.
"She betrayed Leah and sided with her two clients," Vivianne continued, her words sharp with conviction.
Sharlene's mind buzzed. "Who were they?"
"Fredrick Manuel Santiago," Vivianne replied. "And the woman was named Angely."
Angely. Frederick Manuel… Their names stirred something deep in Sharlene's memory.
"Do those names sound familiar?" Vivianne asked.
Sharlene's brow furrowed, her gut twisting.
"You might be right," Vivianne added gently. "Especially the surname Santiago. That name has history."
"There was an accident ten years ago," Sharlene murmured. "Didn't that couple die in it?"
Vivianne nodded. "And don't you remember? We used to see Sheila Atienza visiting that house back when we were kids."
Sharlene stared at her, the pieces slowly clicking together.
She stood and walked toward her bag, retrieving something she had found earlier at Grandma's house—an old notebook hidden in the back of a cabinet.
"What's that?" Vivianne asked, watching curiously.
"I found it in Grandma's cabinet. I thought it might be useful," Sharlene replied, handing it over.
Vivianne opened it and immediately gasped.
"Sis… these are Grandma's client records. Look—Leah Martinez is listed here."
"Does it say anything about her address?" Sharlene asked quickly.
"Why? Do you already know what happened back then?" Vivianne asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"I need to know," Sharlene said seriously. "My child's future is at stake. I saw Leah in my dreams before any of this happened."
Vivianne only nodded solemnly.
"Wait… I remember now," she said. "The two people who were with Grandma—they were once brought to this same hospital. I remember Grandma used to visit them often, back when she was stronger."
Sharlene looked at her with renewed determination.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Even if things aren't clear yet, I need to start putting the pieces together. I need to find the truth."
This is for Ashley. For my child. She held the thought close, like a prayer.
"Sis… do you need help? I mean, I could try to pitch in a little," Vivianne offered, trying to sound casual. "There's a discount too, right? And Ashley's life is on the line."
Sharlene laughed softly. For the first time in days, her heart felt a little lighter.
"Thank you. I might not be able to repay you now, but thank you."
Vivianne didn't reply. She just looked at her sister thoughtfully.
"Are you really going to let your husband go?" she asked suddenly.
Sharlene paused, then nodded.
"I need to put Ashley first. And besides… he was the one who let go first," she said. "I endured his betrayal, his cruelty, but when it comes to my daughter—I draw the line."
She looked down, then smiled faintly.
"I won't think about that for now. When Ashley wakes up, I'll explain everything to her."
She chuckled, tears stinging her eyes.
"I've made many mistakes, ones I regret… But getting pregnant and giving birth? That was the one right thing in my life."
Vivianne just listened, heart heavy.
"Unlike me," Vivianne replied quietly. "I married for status. I had a child with the wrong man. But if there's one thing I can tell you, it's this—choose the man you're willing to fight for."
"I know you don't regret Ashley," she added softly.
"I'm sorry," Sharlene said, grateful for her sister's presence. "I'm just praying Ashley's assessment results turn out well later."
She sighed, eyes drifting toward the window. Beyond it, hope still flickered.