Chapter 35
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Estela lay unconscious for three days and nights.
When she finally opened her eyes, the harsh glare from the overhead lights forced her to squint. Everything was too bright.
The room was crowded–men, women, old and young–all standing around her hospital bed.
At the front stood Reggie, his hair white, dressed in a neatly pressed navy suit. Though in his sixties, his gaze was still sharp, commanding.
When he saw her wake, his stern face softened. “Estela, you’re awake?”
Voices erupted around her.
“She’s awake!”
“Are you okay? How do you feel? Someone get the doctor!”
“Estela, you have no idea how worried we’ve been while you were unconscious!”
The hospital room buzzed with overlapping voices and movement.
Estela’s throat felt raw, her head throbbed. She couldn’t speak–could barely keep her eyes open.
Off to the side, Rosalyn muttered sarcastically, “Guess that’s what you get for ignoring Josh. Fine. You’re awake now, so whatever.”
“Rosalyn,” Reggie’snapped. “If you want to live a long life, try keeping
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your mouth shut.”
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“Dad!” she protested, clearly unwilling to back down.
‘What have I said that is so wrong?‘ she thought.
But a sharp glare from Reggie shut her up immediately.
Then, the two children approached the bed.
Rowena twisted her fingers anxiously. “Mom. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
Josh lowered his head, voice shaky with guilt. “I’m sorry too, Mom.”
Estela’s eyes stayed calm. She said nothing.
Reggie let out a long sigh. “Estela, I know you’ve been wronged. What the children did was inexcusable. They stood by when you were trying to get that painting–and then tried to cover it up.”
“But they’ve admitted their mistake. They came to me themselves, told me everything. They even went to the church to chant and pray for your recovery. You’re their mother. Blood is still blood. Now that you’re awake, can we just let this go?”
In the corner, Wilford’s face darkened.
“Reggie,” he said, his tone sharp, “I can’t let you gloss over this. Are you seriously blaming what happened on a broken stool? What kind of house can’t even provide a chair sturdy enough to stand on?”
He’d come rushing the moment he got the call about Estela’s accident.
He didn’t believe for a second that Estela would be careless enough to fall–especially not while trying to retrieve a painting Keven had given
her.
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Knowing her, she would’ve been cautious to a fault.
There had to be more to this than they were letting on.
But before Wilford could even demand answers from the Leon family, Reggie had already flown in from Zrefast.
He showed up with the two kids in tow, spun a long–winded, diplomatic story, and even handed Michal a check. Michal took the money without blinking and disappeared.
Wilford hadn’t dared tell Keven the truth.
Still uneasy, he’d been staying at the hospital, keeping watch.
Reggie’s sharp eyes flashed with calculation. “Wilford, we’re all family here. The kids already know they messed up. They’re Estela’s children, after all. Maybe. we should hear what she wants.”
Vance arrived just then with the doctor. When he saw Estela awake, a flicker of relief crossed his face.
But the next moment, Estela turned to Wilford, confusion written all over her face, and asked, “Wilford. who are these people?”
The room fell into a stunned silence. It was like a thunderclap had just hit.
Rosalyn couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Estela, what kind of act are you pulling now? You don’t have to recognize us, but Rowena and Josh are your children!”
“I have kids?” Estela blinked as if she’d just heard a joke. “Lady, are you serious?”
She gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “Didn’t I just hear someone say they watched me get hurt and didn’t lift a finger? Are you sure they’re
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mine? That’s disgusting. If I had kids like that, I’d rather get sterilized.”
You could hear a pin drop.
Rowena and Josh stood frozen, on the verge of tears but too scared to
cry
They were devastated that Estela didn’t remember them–but deep down, both silently wished she wouldn’t remember what happened yesterday.
Vance’s temper flared. “Doctor, what’s going on?”
The doctor responded calmly after a short pause. “She hit the back of her head pretty hard. Memory loss or confusion is common. This could last for a while. I’d advise the family not to provoke her. Any emotional stress might worsen the condition.”
Everyone gasped.
She wasn’t faking it. She really had amnesia.
Reggie went quiet for a long moment before speaking, “All right. Everyone out. Let’s give Estela some space to rest.”
With his word, the
Om cleared quickly.
Only Vance and Wilford stayed behind.
Vance stared intently at Estela’s good eye, trying to read something in her expression. “Now that it’s just us. if you’re upset, you can tell me.”
Estela rolled her eyes and sniffled. “And you are?”
Vance’s jaw tensed. “I’m your husband.”
She looked like he’d slapped her. “Seriously? My taste is that bad?”
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She turned to Wilford for confirmation.
Wilford, hands casually in his pockets, replied, “Nope. He’s lying. Ignore him.”
Vance’s face turned stone–cold. “Wilford, are you seriously going along with her act?”
“Mr. Leon,” Wilford shot back, voice sharp, “you heard the doctor. Don’t agitate my sister.”
Eventually, Vance stormed out without another word.
Wilford poured Estela a cup of water.
She sipped slowly, then suddenly said in a low voice, “Don’t tell Grandpa anything.”
Wilford blinked. “Estela. did you remember something?”
Estela tapped the side of her head and gave a bitter smile. “I remember everything. The Leon family is disgusting. If Vance won’t sign the divorce papers, fine. As for those kids, I don’t want them either.”
She still remembered that moment–how they yanked her off the stool, no hesitation, no fear of consequences. They didn’t think of her as a mother. That wasn’t an accident.
That was attempted murder.
Reggie had come all this way just to protect them. And in that moment, Estela finally understood the saying: like father, like child. The rot went all the way down.
She gave a tired, bitter laugh. “Once the separation period’s up, I’m filing for divorce. Help me keep it quiet, okay?”
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Wilford looked at her–the girl who’d once believed in love, in home, in family–now burned out and hollowed by betrayal.
He swallowed hard. “Estela. this is my fault. Back then, I should’ve-”
