As the colors of the sky began to fade and the surroundings turned to a copper hue, a black car stopped in front of the old gate of the Navarro residence.
Everything was quiet when a man stepped out — white-haired, standing tall despite his age, wearing a linen suit, holding a cane he didn't really need, and carrying a presence one could never forget.
Don Emilio Dela Vuega, known to the siblings simply as Grandpa Dela Vuega.
Bella ran outside barefoot, holding up the hem of her dress.
"Grandpa!" She shouted before the housekeeper could even greet the old man.
Don Emilio smiled, slightly bending down to accept his granddaughter's embrace.
"Mi pequeña flor," he said softly — his tone showing how much he favored her. "I heard it's your special day."
"Yes, Grandpa! Thank you for coming!"
The old man chuckled quietly before glancing toward the house. "And where is your sister — the lady of the house?"
Just then, Andi came down the stairs, dressed in a simple white blouse and beige long skirt — composed, though clearly tired.
"Good evening, Grandpa," she greeted politely but carefully.
"Ah, Andrea." The old man gave only a nod — no kiss, no hug, as was his habit. "Your home looks… lively."
Andi smiled, though she could feel the cold distance. "It's Bella's day. We just wanted her to enjoy."
The old man nodded again before handing Bella a small box tied with a golden ribbon. "For you, my dear," he said.
When Bella opened it, she gasped — a delicate gold bracelet engraved with "Isabella D.V."
"Wow, Grandpa! It's beautiful! Thank you!" She squealed, jumping with joy.
While they had coffee on the veranda, with Alonzo standing quietly nearby, Don Emilio looked around. "Your parents would've been proud," he said calmly.
Andi stayed silent. She only nodded.
After a moment, Don Emilio turned to Gesly, who had also been quiet. "I heard your birthday is next year."
"Yes, Grandpa," Gesly replied, steady and polite, but with a hint of confidence.
"What would you like then? You know I don't give small gifts."
Gesly smiled faintly, resting his chin on his hand. "I want the whole hacienda."
Andi froze, almost spatting her coffee. "What? A whole hacienda?!"
Don Emilio looked at him — not angry, but rather amused. "And what would a young man like you do with an entire hacienda?"
Gesly tilted his head slightly, as if scheming. "I want to be an agriculturist," he said simply, his tone firm. "I want to plant, to manage land. I want to grow something that lasts."
The old man chuckled. "An agriculturist? Interesting."
Even Alonzo couldn't help but grin. "Didn't expect that from you, bro," he teased.
Andi, still in disbelief, asked, "Wait — I thought you wanted to be a businessman? You said you wanted to follow Grandpa's footsteps."
Gesly looked at her, a small smile on his lips. "I want to be both."
A pause followed.
Grandfather Dela Vuega leaned back in his chair, smiling in quiet approval. "That's the right answer," he said finally. "Learn to own the land and the system that runs it. That's how the real ones survive."
While Grandfather and Alonzo talked about business, Andi watched Gesly.
There was something different about him — his eyes seemed deeper as he stared into his coffee.
She wasn't sure if he truly wanted to be an agriculturist… or if "I want to own the whole hacienda" meant something else.
But in that moment, she chose not to ask. She just smiled, though her chest felt tight. She knew her brother — when he said he wanted something, it wasn't always just a wish.
Sometimes, it was a plan.
Before he left, Grandfather Dela Vuega placed a hand on Gesly's shoulder. "You remind me of your father even though I only met him for a short time," he said. "Ambitious. But don't let that consume you."
Gesly smiled and nodded slightly. "I'll remember that, Grandpa."
As the car drove away, Andi walked back inside.
"The whole hacienda, really?" She asked, trying to sound calm.
Gesly grinned as if nothing happened. "So you'll have somewhere to plant your flowers, Ate."
And she fell silent.
She couldn't tell if he was joking… or not.
---
Less than a week after that dinner, Andi received a call from a secretary — from the main Dela Vuega house.
The tone was formal, almost like a business call.
"Señor Emilio would like to see you in his office this afternoon, Ms. Navarro."
She didn't ask why.
Just hearing her grandfather's name, she knew — this wasn't just a casual visit.
The Dela Vuega main house felt like a museum.
High ceilings, the heavy scent of wood and old books, and every step Andi took on the marble floor echoed faintly — as if someone were listening.
It wasn't her first time there, but it always felt heavy whenever she entered.
"Señorita Andrea, your grandfather is waiting," the elderly butler said, opening the office door.
Inside, she saw Grandpa Dela Vuega behind a massive desk, holding a thick beige folder stamped with the family seal — Dela Vuega y Navarro Holdings.
"Andrea," he greeted, his tone softer now. "Sit down."
She did.
The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the ticking of the old clock.
"Do you remember what your brother said during Bella's birthday?" The old man asked, still looking at the papers.
"Yes. He said… he wanted a hacienda."
He nodded. "Well," he said softly, handing her the folder, "I've decided to give him one."
Andi's eyes widened. "Grandpa— what do you mean 'give him one'?"
"It's one of our old lands in San Felipe, Batangas. It's been in the family for generations. No one's managed it properly since your grandmother passed. So now…" He looked at Andi, his eyes gentler than she'd ever seen. "I'm putting it under your name, until Gesly turns eighteen."
Andi took the folder, her fingers trembling as she opened it.
Inside were legal transfer documents, land titles, and a handwritten note.
Her name — Andrea Dela Vuega Navarro — written in elegant ink.
"Grandpa," she whispered, "this… this is too much."
The old man leaned back, smiling faintly. "For the first time in a long while, I can say this — it's not too much. It's what you deserve."
Silence filled the room.
Grandfather Dela Vuega studied his granddaughter — the spitting image of the daughter who once ran away with a mechanic.
He had hated that for so long.
He had blamed himself for letting her go, for not finding her sooner.
Now, seeing Andi before him — quiet, dignified, with the same strong will and soft heart as her mother — the weight in his chest seemed to lighten.
"Let him have it," he said quietly, almost a whisper. "Let your brother have his dream. And let this be my way… of making up for the years I failed to be your family."
Andi couldn't speak at first.
She stared at the papers — still not quite believing.
She didn't know which was heavier: the wealth suddenly in her hands, or the slow crumbling of the wall that had long stood between her and her grandfather.
"Thank you, Grandpa," she finally said softly. "I'll take good care of the land. Not just for Gesly… but for our family."
The old man nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear."
As she stood to leave, she felt her grandfather gently pat her hand.
It wasn't firm, but it was enough — enough to express something the Dela Vuegas rarely said out loud: affection.
As Andi walked out of the office, she glanced again at the folder in her hands.
With every page, every seal, she felt that what she held wasn't just land — it was a bridge.
A bridge from the sins of the past toward a new beginning.
And at the back of her mind, she could still hear her grandfather's voice: "Let him have it."
But she couldn't help but wonder —
Was it truly given for Gesly… or for Grandfather, to reclaim the daughter he lost long ago — through the granddaughter who stayed?