Martin was at the hospital today—not to visit his daughter Ashley, but to check on a patient whose father of Manuel Santiago, was still alive. Yet, due to his old age, the man was slowly deteriorating.
The Santiago tree hasn't withered yet, Martin thought silently. The old man had been placed in a private room, guarded closely, and Martin could only chuckle at the sight of the posted security.
He shook his head. His parents had always warned him not to meddle too deeply with the Santiago family. They carry a secret no one's dared to uncover.
He was lost in thought, wondering how he'd even begin to approach the old man—or if he should at all. His train of thought was suddenly cut off when he caught sight of a woman. His brows furrowed in recognition, even from behind.
Damn that bitch. He scowled to himself. She wasn't with Justine this time. The infamous lover was nowhere in sight. Sheila had come to the hospital alone.
Curiosity tugged at him more intensely now, and he could only shake his head.
I really need to follow that woman, he thought, though he couldn't get any closer because of the guards surrounding the private room.
If you're going to use me, Sheila, then I'll use you too.
He turned away. On his way out, he bumped into Vivianne, who raised an eyebrow at him and walked past in silence, ignoring him completely.
Martin exited the hospital. His thoughts were all over the place now, swirling with fragments from the past—particularly the long-forgotten crime in San Mateo, where the bodies of a couple were discovered.
That was long ago, he mused. They closed the case, unable to identify the culprit behind the brutal murders.
He recalled bits of a conversation he had overheard.
Did that couple have children? He found himself asking again.
He sighed. I need to go back to San Mateo. Maybe I'll find something.
He immediately started driving. He didn't fully understand why this memory was resurfacing now. Then he recalled the bracelet Sharlene had once been holding. There was something familiar about it—something buried in his mind.
Closing his eyes, the face of his daughter Ashley flashed before him. Why did that suddenly come to mind? he wondered. She looks like someone I once knew… someone I've forgotten.
He brushed it off and focused on the road. He was heading to his parents' ancestral house. He would rest there for now and consult with their former household staff. It was his day off, and he could spend it however he wanted.
Both of his parents were long gone now. They had died natural deaths—no foul play. He was thankful for that, even though their illnesses had taken them too soon.
"Sir, you didn't even let us know you were coming," the caretaker said as Martin stepped out of his parked car.
"I just felt like coming here," he replied curtly.
The caretaker nodded without pressing further. Martin noticed a few young people loitering near the boarding house next to their old home.
"Why are there kids there?" he asked as he tucked away his car keys.
"They said they were doing a project, sir. Something about studying old homes. They mentioned visiting the Santiago mansion," the caretaker explained.
Martin nodded and headed inside to rest.
"Call me when dinner's ready," he instructed the housemaid, who simply nodded in return.
Lying down, he allowed himself to relax. He missed this place more than he'd realized. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
"Why are you here?" a young Martin asked a little girl.
She looked at him but said nothing.
"Where are your mom and dad?" he asked again.
"I don't know. I just woke up here. I don't even know my parents' names," she said softly, sadness clouding her eyes.
Martin noticed the bracelet on her wrist.
"Do you remember who gave you that?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I'm scared," she said suddenly, covering her face and beginning to cry.
Martin, around four years old at the time, just stared at her.
Ashley! Martin suddenly jolted awake.
A dream, he told himself as a knock sounded at the door.
"Sir, dinner is ready," the maid announced.
Martin scratched his head and opened the door. "Okay, I'll be down," he replied, making his way to the dining room.
Dinner was already served. He took his seat and gestured for his wine glass to be filled. The maid did so without question.
As he ate in silence, he decided to break it.
"Wasn't there a case a long time ago—about two bodies being dumped?" he asked the caretaker.
The staff looked at one another in surprise. The caretaker finally nodded.
"Yes, sir. That news was all over town back then."
"Did the couple have a child?" Martin asked casually.
"You were still young then, sir, when that case happened. Yes, it was rumored the couple had a child. No one knew if the child died or was taken in by someone."
"So, no one here knows who that child might be?" Martin asked, pausing his meal.
"Ah, excuse me, sir. But do you remember that little girl you used to talk about with sir and ma'am? You once asked if you could help her—she didn't have any memories or know where she lived."
Martin furrowed his brow. "Really? I met a girl like that?"
"Yes, sir. You were quite mischievous then, but your parents were quick to act and tried to help."
"What happened to her?"
"They couldn't find her, sir. Last we heard, she became a beggar."
Martin nodded slowly. Did that dream really happen? he wondered.
He sighed, his mind returning to the bracelet the girl had worn—a memory that still lingered.
Could she have been the child of the Gonzalez family? Martin thought, swirling the wine in his glass.