Quinn's Mansion. Los Angeles, California.

"Becks, we are home."

Rebecca's eyes open to Ashley's face staring down at her with a soft smile, hand stroking her hair. Rebecca stifles a yawn that threatens to escape her lips and straightens in her seat, eyes wandering around the seats of the limousine to find them all empty. Through the black tinted windows of the limousine, she catches glimpse of the sky, pitch dark above with stars littered in millions twinkling, and the towering image of the mansion ahead.

She's left a bit surprised Ashley referred to the mansion as home a few moments ago. Her friend never does that. Ashley loves to keep boundaries in anything and everything she does and although she considers all of them her family—and they're the only family she still has—she never refers to the mansion as her home and always resorts to acting like a guest rather than a family member.

Hearing her say home, Rebecca, in her unconscious mind assumed she was at Ashley's house instead of her own. How desperately she wish she is. At her friend's house, she can whine and cry all she want without her brother or mother nagging her or making unnecessary enquires about why she's crying in the first place. The ache in her heart is increasingly becoming unbearable.

She's more than relieved when she steps out of the confines of the limousine. The journey back to Los Angeles was exhausting to say the least. Her mother had done nothing but shower her with kisses and hugs, praising God for bringing back her daughter safe and sound. Beside Ashley, her brother glared at her as if she has cost him a business deal while Ashley kept pestering her with questions about the person she was with.

It was then her eyes welled with tears as she thought of Colby. Steeling herself, she managed not to blink a tear and when her friend saw she wasn't going to answer her questions, she stopped asking and left her alone.

The lights around her doesn't help the uneasiness settling into her stomach, its dazzle making her eyes hurt. After spending time at Daniel's house where the surroundings are more of nature than man's handiwork, it feels strange to be standing on cobblestone instead of lush grass. The very air buzzes of electricity; the extravagant, exquisite structure of the mansion promising her a luxurious king-sized bed and a bathtub filled with hot water. She gives Ashley a small smile as she throws a fur coat around her shoulders, muttering to her about how cold the night is. Although the night isn't as chilly as Ashley is exaggerating it to be, Rebecca holds the coat tighter around her, fighting the sadness which threatens to consume her. She wants to race to her room and sleep forever but for some inexplicable reason unknown to her, Ashley keeps her beside the limousine with her arms draped around her shoulders. Her mother and brother stand a feet away from them talking to some men she hasn't seen before in her life.

Once she stops dwelling on her sadness and pondering, she notices more of these men spilled around the perimeter of the mansion, in the garden, beside the large swimming pool near the gazebo, in the courtyard and among the coconut trees lining the entrance. There are at least two dozen of them—from what she can make out—dressed in fine black suits with dark sunglasses framing their faces. She sees guns tucked inside their pants when they turn, their eyes busily scrutinizing every smallest detail including her. There's no doubt in her mind what these men are but why in everything that's good on this earth does her family need this many bodyguards? And to guard the mansion at nights?

Mostly when they hire bodyguards, they hire at least four to six men to accompany her mother and brother to social events to make bold appearances when needed and necessary. Their main purpose though, was to ward off and prevent the media and journalists who used to swim at the gates of the mansion early in the morning, pleading and shouting for interviews, from entering the mansion forcefully. But after the matter of her father's death and 'the ruined wedding of the century'—as the gossip sites loved to call it—died down, her mother personally sent most of them away, depending more on chauffeurs and a single bodyguard for protection instead of many. Just like her mother, Rebecca doesn't like bodyguards patrolling the house or guarding her everywhere she goes. Not in the slightest, so why this many bodyguards now when they don't need them at all?

She's about to ask Ashley who is busy typing something on her phone when she catches sight of her brother and mother arguing. Fergal's face is all fierce as he exchanges words with Annette. She can't hear what they're arguing about but it's clear by the hard lines set on her brother's face and the heated manner with which he gestures around, that it isn't anything he agrees on. Annette wins the argument—as she always does—silencing a fuming and seething Fergal.

"Come here, my dear." Annette beckons to Rebecca with arms spread wide. While she strides over to where her mother stands with Ashley in tow, Fergal takes off to the mansion, his steps brisk and furious. "What were you two talking about that got him so upset," Rebecca inquires as her mother's arms engulf her around the shoulders.

"Nothing you should worry about my dear," Annette says, waving the matter off gracefully with a flick of her hand. "Your brother is always in a bad mood, you know that." The last part is true. Fergal never seems satisfied with anything which isn't done according to his way, but nobody gets angry over nothing and her brother is no exception. When she sees the bodyguards dispersing to the back of the mansion, she speculates the argument must've been about them but she doesn't press. Her mother won't tell her; she never does.

To her surprise, her brother is still around in the living area when they enter the mansion. He's seated on one of the white couches, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, a stern look on his face. Rebecca can't decipher if his irritation is because of the fight he just had with their mother or simply her. He's been giving her disapproving glances throughout the journey. Rebecca hadn't cared to ask what he's so angry with her about, too caught up in her disappointment that Colby left without a word to her. Even when she told him to wait. But now her brother's stares is starting to grate on her nerves.

"Would you like to take a bath first before we eat?" Annette asks her once they sit down on the couch, a maid already handing her a glass of iced water.

"I will like a shower first. I'm not hungry so I'll probably head to bed after," Rebecca replies, taking a small sip of her water before handing it back to the maid.

Annette eyes her worriedly, "That won't do. You need to eat so you can take your medicines."

Rebecca's stomach churns at the word medicines, recalling the many pills waiting for her in her room. "Mom, I haven't taken them in days," she tries to reason, "and yet I'm fine. No one is dead."

"Don't even toy with the thought of death," Annette tells her severely. "This family isn't having another funeral on my watch. Most especially not yours. So be a good girl. Eat first, take your medicines, take a shower and then retire to bed."

Rebecca sighs, "Mom, I'm fine—"

"Look at yourself," Annette cuts her off by gripping her chin tightly, turning her head this way and that, looking every bit of a protective mother. This is nothing new. Her mother has always been like this ever since she fell sick. Rebecca knows it's an act of love but it doesn't stop it from being any less annoying when it's overdone. "Just look at your face. Your cheeks are all sunken in, so hollow. You've grown so thin. I wonder what would've happened if you hadn't called sooner. You would've turned into a skeleton in two weeks time for sure."

Rebecca pries her mother's hand from her face in a not-so gentle manner, "That wouldn't have happened. The people there took very good care of me. They saved my life."

Annette huffs, "I've imagined the worst kinds of things possible ever since we found your car smashed into a tree. You need to take care of yourself, regain your strength and be the radiant Rebecca you used to be before everything happened, my dear."

Rebecca wonders if that's possible. Every time happiness knocks on her door, every time she thinks she has another shot at it, it slips from her fingers like a lurching eel. Losing Colby is a prime example. "Alright mom," she concedes, defeated. "I'll eat something. Can I go to my room now?"

"Of course my dear," Annette places a soft kiss on her forehead, "Go on. Take a shower and come eat dinner with your family. We're going to make sure a little bit of flesh returns to your body before your birthday party."

Rebecca's eyebrows shoots up, "What?!! Wait. . . . what birthday party?"

"You're turning thirty next week," Annette announces excitedly. "It's a cause for celebration, isn't it? We're going to hold a grand birthday party just for you."

Rebecca can't believe her ears, "Mom, what are you talking about? We never celebrate or hold a function here for my birthday. Not anymore. Why—"

"It's time we forget the past and move on, my dear. This family has gone through so much over the past few years. We deserve to have a little bit of fun and what better way to do that than throw a party for your birthday? It's going to be superb. Moreover, Ashley will be the one organizing it."

Rebecca's gaze swings to her friend who is leaning against the wall, "You agreed to this, Ash?"

Ashley's face reddens, "I couldn't say no. After I informed aunt you called, she thought of your birthday and decided to throw a party for you. We almost lost you Becks. This party will be a remembrance that you returned in one piece and a chance for this family to reunite with you here. I'm sure Sir Leon would've wanted the same thing."

Rebecca glares at her friend. Her father shouldn't be, in no way whatsoever be used as a persuasive tool to get her to agree to this birthday party. It's because of her father she doesn't want the party in the first place. Using him to try and soften her is pointless. "No one is throwing a birthday party here. I don't want it and that's final."

Annette insists, defiant. "Whether you like it or not, we're having this party Rebecca," she declares. "This isn't just for you but for the entire family. This party is going to happen, with or without your consent. And you're going to be there. Period."

"But I don't want to. I don't want this stupid party. It's useless," Rebecca cries, rising up to her feet.

"It's not," Fergal says, speaking for the first time since they arrived.

Rebecca looks up at him, curious. "And why is that?"

"Because of this," he slams a newspaper on the glass table in the center of the living area, making her jump. Annette groans. "The whole country is talking about you, due to nothing more than your foolishness. This party isn't just to celebrate your birthday but to clear your image and ours which you managed to single-handedly tarnish in seconds."

"Fergal, watch the way you speak to your sister," Annette scolds.

"What the hell is this?" Rebecca whispers, eyes wide as they stare at the image printed at the front page of the newspaper. In the image, she's standing at the church where Jeff was getting married in, her hands gripping his collar while his, shoved at her arms, trying to pry her off him. His bride, Alexa, stands at the altar with the priest, looking confused and shocked as Rebecca begs her groom to come back to her. "Who—?"

"A guest took this picture while you were busy making an utter fool of yourself. That's not all. There's also a video of you, clear and audible. In it, you're begging the man who left you and disgraced this family to come back to you," he takes his phone out of his pocket, holding it out to her. "Do you want to see it?" He taunts darkly. All Rebecca can do is swallow. Fergal's gaze snaps to her bandaged wrist. "What happened to your hand? What did you do to yourself, Rebecca?"

"Fergal, please. Let's end it here," Annette pleads, face in her palm.

"Why should I," he retorts, stalking closer to his sister. Rebecca backs a step away. "You slit your wrist, didn't you? Look at me and tell me I'm lying." Ashamed, Rebecca hangs her head. Tears prickle at her eyes as the newspaper falls from her hands. Fergal looks disappointed, "How could you? How could you think of killing yourself for that lowlife?" He bellows, swiftly snatching the newspaper from the tile floor. He holds the image of her on the front page at her face, "How could you make such a fool of yourself Rebecca? Didn't you think about your dignity, self-esteem and respect when you begged the man who left you on the day you were supposed to get married and made a mockery of our entire family to come back to you? This man right here, stole from us and ran away to use that money to marry another woman and when we should've hunted him down and threw him in jail for his theft, you refused, claiming you don't want to see his face ever again. Claiming you want to forget him and you promised you would. So what's this? How could you stoop so low?"

"I'm sorry," Rebecca apologizes with hands shaking at her sides, tears streaming down on her face. Something tells her it's not enough. Not for her brother.

"Sorry?" Fergal scoffs, "You're sorry? That's what you say whenever you make a fool of yourself and we've to pay the price for it every damn time!! Do you know what the truth is? You're selfish. You're insensitive to the pain you cause others whenever you shut yourself in your room or bury yourself under the water in your bathtub, attempting to kill yourself. You didn't think about your family or your loved ones when you slit your own wrist. If it weren't for the people who rescued you, you'll be dead by now. Do you even know what that means? And all for what? For that wretched scumbag Jeff? What about us? We're always there for you but you never seem to notice it!!"

It's Rebecca's turn to scoff at her brother's face, "Always there? Who is there? You?" She hastily wipes her tears away, anger replacing her sorrow. "So now you call yourself a brother? Someone who's always there? Where were you then when I needed you most? Where were you when I was in the hospital for six months? In all those months, did you ever come there to see me? Or when Jeff left me, did you ever ask how I was the next morning? The answer is no!! Because all you cared about was what the media would say and how the incident will affect your precious business deals. A brother who shuts himself from the world and only comes by the mansion when he feels like it and doesn't bother to visit her sister in the hospital even once, doesn't deserve to be called a brother!!"

"Becks please. . . ."

"Ash please. Stay out of this," Rebecca scolds her friend, radiating her full glare back to Fergal. "You don't have the right to stand here and give me lectures about the importance of family. Mom and Ash have the right to scold, lecture and punish me but not you. Because you're never there!!"

Fergal glares back at her, "Perhaps you've forgotten but I am the man in this family," he growls, "since father is dead which you don't seem to care about, someone has to assume responsibilities and cater for this family. When I'm not at home, I'm on a business trip after business trip, working to put food on the table, pay your medical bills and ensure you never lack anything in this life. If I stay at home comforting you, bringing you flowers and visiting you at the hospital, getting late for work just to ask how are you doing every morning, how would you continue to live in this luxury I work so hard to provide for you? Your little paintings can't take care of us, little sis. That's why I bust my ass off every day to preserve the good name father left behind while all you do is give us nothing but headaches."

"That's enough Fergal," Annette shouts as she rises to her feet.

"No mom," he yells while Rebecca cries uncontrollably. Ashley is there by her side but not even her friend knows how to comfort her this time. Fergal has never scolded her like this before. It hurts so much more than she imagined. "She needs to know we won't tolerate her stupidity any longer. She has degraded herself to such an extent that I'm even ashamed to call her my sister and if father was alive, he would've been ashamed at what a fragile and weak person his daughter has become!!"

"Fergal!!!" Rebecca gasps as her mother slaps her brother hard across the face. Annette is now standing between them, looking authoritative and imposing as ever, like the proud and strong woman who personally kicked their father's relatives out of the company when he died and placed her son in their positions instead. "It's enough Fergal. I won't let you use your father's name to insult your sister. Enough is enough."

Rebecca is already rushing up the stairs, her cries echoing back to her. She can hear the sound of Ashley's heels clinking on the stairs as she races after her. Rebecca collapses onto her bed once she reaches her room, sobbing and clutching at the white sheets wildly, the pain eating her away bit by bit. Ashley's arms around her only makes her cry harder. She cries and screams, not only for the pain her brother has inflicted on her with his words alone. But for the love that has slipped away from her hands.

A love that was never hers.

* * *

"For how long will you keep on defending her?"

Fergal rubs the cheek his mother had slapped just moments ago, still feeling the tingling sting not just on his skin but on his heart. He can't recall the last time his mother slapped him. He can't recall for his mother has never slapped him before. The fact that he has been slapped today, for the first time in his life because of Rebecca renders the slap somewhat meaningless for after all, she's his sister. Getting slapped because of her isn't much of a deal but it hurts all the same. "For how long will you keep on defending her," he repeats through clenched teeth. "For how long will you keep on tolerating her stupid behaviour?"

"Remember every time, before you even think of raising your voice at your sister that she's sick." Annette tells him coolly, calmly, but the venom in her eyes is all too clear. This is nothing new for Fergal; no matter what his sister does, even if she were to kill a man, their mother will always defend her. Sometimes he wonder if she'll defend him as much as she's defending Rebecca right now if he were to cause such a disgrace to the family instead. She probably wouldn't, because as she said; Rebecca is sick. He isn't. Her sickness gives her some sort of privilege he doesn't have to do whatever it is she pleases and get away with it. For the same reason his mother is warning him now to be careful of what he says to his sister, he's been patient and understanding for a long time, always turning a blind eye to everything she does, cleaning up her mess and making sure their family's name remains unblemished.

But not anymore. He has far more important things to worry about. Too many things going on in his life and in his head for his sister to add her problems to the pile of his own. "I know she's sick. Why do you think I've kept quiet all this while? I never wanted any of this. I don't even want to meddle in her life but for the past few days I realized, for her to truly comprehend the negative effect her doings has on us and this family, someone needs to tell the truth to her face. What part of father being ashamed of her is untrue," he questions, slamming the newspaper on the table. The image of his sister on the front page still makes him nauseous when he looks at it. "Do you believe if father was alive, he would be happy that his daughter—the only daughter of this family—crashed the wedding of the man that dumped her and in addition begged him to come back to her? Would father be happy she lowered herself to such a pathetic level?"

"What your father would've thought of her is unknown. You seem to have forgotten that Leon is dead," Annette says, voice cracking a bit with thick emotion. Fergal swallows hard at the mention of his father. "If your father was alive, he wouldn't have treated your sister the way you treated her earlier. She has gone through so much over the past few years. With Leon's death, finding out she's sick and that asshole leaving her on the day they were supposed to get married, it's natural for her to behave this way. She needs our love and attention; not your yelling and bashing and most especially, not you using your father's name to insult her. You went too far." Annette takes a deep breath and makes sure she has her son's full attention before continuing, "You've to apologize to her."

Fergal's scoff turns into a laugh of incredulity. He can't believe what he's hearing. "Wait, I have to apologize to her? So now I don't have the right to scold my own sister when she's being childish and stupid?"

"No one is saying you don't have the right but you crossed a line Fergal. You went too far and for that, you've to apologize to her and I'm not taking a no for an answer."

His mother's glare is enough to send her business partners and employees cowering at her feet but not him. He finds it ridiculous every time she gives him that condescending look. He's seen too much of it and learned so much from her to be afraid or intimidated by her. His mother always seems to forget the man he is now is all because of her. 'How can an apprentice who has graduated from apprenticeship be scared of his former master when he has become a master himself in his own right?' "You above all people should know how much I detest saying sorry, most especially for something I haven't done. But you're right mom. Why should I scold Rebecca when it is your fault she's the person she's now?"

"Excuse me?" Taken aback, Annette asks.

"Yes, it's all your fault. If only you'd sent her away when the fiasco of her wedding started and gotten her a good therapist, none of this would be happening. Every time she does something wrong; 'it's alright my dear. We'll fix it.' She hasn't learned to face her problems because we're always there to fix them for her. But that ends here. You better speak to her and ask her to stop her madness otherwise, when she makes a fool of herself next time, I won't clean up after her. I'm sick and tired of everything in this family." He yanks his coat from the armrest of the couch angrily before tucking his phone into his back pocket.

"Come back here Fergal. I'm not done with you." But he doesn't stop, racing out of the living room like a wild windstorm.

Grunting under her breath, Annette slumps back onto the couch with a tired groan. "What am I going to do with this family?" She laments to the large portrait of her husband on the wall. Her husband's handsome face seems to be smiling at her in the portrait. Whether he's mocking her failure to keep the family glued together after his death or he's glad Rebecca has returned home safe and sound, she doesn't know. But she does know things have gotten way out of her control. And she hates it. She's finally gotten her daughter back but it seems she's lost her son. Fergal drifts away from her with each passing second. The fear of him being her downfall in the future gnaws at her soul. 'She has to find a solution for this. And fast.'

When her phone rings and she takes it out of her handbag, she's expecting the chief editor of their communication company to be calling to discuss the press conference they'll be releasing tomorrow to address several issues at the fashion company and unfortunately, matters at home too; particularly Rebecca. Her expectations are dashed once she sees the name written in the caller ID—Amigo. A smile and irritation clouds her face at once. "Why are calling?"

"How is Becca?" The feeling is bittersweet as she hears the voice.

"She's fine," Annette grumbles under breath, feigning indifference, but in her heart, she's feeling all the sensations she experiences whenever she hears this voice. "She's in her room now, preparing for bed. It wasn't as serious as we thought it was. Luckily, she's healthy. Just too lean for her own good."

The person sighs in relief at the other end of the line, "Thank goodness. And here you thought I had kidnapped her. Why did you ever think I can do such a thing?"

Annette rolls her eyes, "You've done much worse. Besides, I was hysterical on the day she disappeared. I was worried and I assumed crazy things. The only possibility for her disappearance was kidnapping. She was with Ashley so I never imagined she'd attempt to kill herself yet again, much less make a scene at Jeff's wedding. I trusted Ashley to have everything under control but clearly things didn't go as planned. The nice little vacation I planned for her at the farmhouse in Orlando turned into a disaster. Someone sent her an invitation to Jeff's wedding and. . . ."

"I saw the video. You should keep an eye on her Ann. Becca is very sensitive. I don't want anything else to trigger another depression in her. Do you understand me?"

Even after all these years and everything she's accomplished, he still feels like he's the boss of her, talks and acts all commanding. "Whatever you say. Rebecca is fine. Ashley is with her now. She'll be alright. I'm going to retire to bed. It's been a long day and I'm exhausted."

"Good. Come quick and open the window for me. I think it's stuck."

"What!!" She glances around to make sure nobody is near to hear her. Except the portrait of her late husband on the wall, who seem to be frowning at her now with disapproval, no one is around.

Holding the phone close to her ear, she takes her handbag and rushes up the stairs, taking two at a time. She's glad he isn't around to see her like this; so frantic and desperate, like a lovesick teenager eager to meet her boyfriend. Once she's inside her room, she locks her door from inside and throws her handbag and phone to the nearest sofa. She quickly heads to the window where she sees the silhouette of a person grunting and trying to open the window with all his might. She parts the white curtains and helps him open it. "You're so crazy," she scolds, stepping aside for him to climb inside her luxurious bedroom. "I wonder how you'll get inside my room once the workers finish work with the tree house and remove the ladder."

He suddenly hugs her from behind, his strong arms squeezing the life out of her. The wind billowing through the ajar window whips curls of brown hair from her face as his stubble grazes the exposed skin at her shoulder, spiraling shivers through her. "Then I'll come by the front gate."

"You wouldn't dare," she says, voice breathless and raspy, fighting a moan that wants to escape her lips as he kisses her shoulder and neck.

"Try me." His teeth sinks down into the flesh at her neck, making her gasp. He sucks at the place he'd bitten, tongue roving around the sensitive skin. He slowly moves her away from the window, his heat enveloping her as they move away from the cool breeze to the large mirror at the dressing area in her room. "You're so tensed Ann. What happened?" His hands begins massaging her shoulders. "Rebecca's back home. There's nothing you should be worrying about now."

Annette sighs and leans into his touch, head falling back on his shoulder. She wants to tell him about what happened earlier, about all the hurtful things Fergal said to Rebecca but she knows telling him that will only anger him more into doing something drastic. "It's Fergal," she says simply, "that son of mine is giving me headaches. He's slipping out of my grasp with each day that passes. He doesn't listen to me anymore. He does whatever he wishes. I'm scared he'll one day turn his back on me and be our downfall."

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head almost sadly but Annette knows better. "Too bad he's your son. This problem would've been solved with just a click of my fingers. Too bad we can't kill him."

Annette looks at his sunburnt face in the large mirror, letting herself drown in his blue eyes. With the room dim, his icy blue eyes seem to shine. What they shine with, she doesn't want to dwell on. He's still devilishly handsome even with the scar marring his face and the wrinkles under his eyes due to aging. The smile he's giving her now through the mirror is worth the nightmares she has every night and the dark memories of all the things they've done together. They've come so far. Too far. For her son to ruin everything they've achieved. "Yes too bad," she agrees, turning in his arms so that she's facing him. His hands immediately comes around her waist, drawing her closer. The strong fragrance of him almost makes her forget what she's about to ask. "What about the. . . ."

"It's done," he cuts her off, nuzzling his face at the crook of her neck, "Not entirely though but we're getting somewhere. He's dead now and soon enough, I'll have it."

Her brows twitch with confusion, "Wait, you killed him?"

His voice is muffled as he replies, "Yes."

She pulls his head up so she can look at his face, "Why the hell did you kill him? He was our only chance to find it and you killed him? How are we supposed to get it now?"

"Ann, relax. There's no way he was going to give it to us. I know him well enough. He had nothing he cared about for us to blackmail him with but his family does. Especially the eldest son."

Annette is puzzled beyond words. She can't understand what he's talking about. Whatever he's saying wasn't in their plans and if it weren't for the fact that she trusts him with her life, she'd see him as a threat. She hates it when she's kept in the loop. "What are you planning?"

He flashes her a lopsided grin, full of mischief and mystery. "You'll see soon enough. You trust me right?"

She doesn't hesitate, "Of course. I trust you more than myself. More than anyone."

He takes one of her hands and kisses the back of it, lingering to kiss his way up to her wrist. "Then leave everything to me Ann," his eyes twinkle as he says it and she lets herself feel the exhilaration of his sweet words of affection. For he's the only that has been able to make her feel this way. The only one. "We'll get through this. Like we've always done." He backs her towards the bed and lays her down before settling on top of her. He entwines his hand in hers on the cream sheets, fingers threading and curling around each other. "Together. I love you Ann."

She trails her fingers along the smooth scar on his face and smiles. She trusts him. If not him, then who else? They've gone through so much together and just like every other time, they'll be a step ahead of everyone. She won't let Fergal get to her. She's her son after all and when the time is appropriate, she'll deal with him personally. "I love you too Arnaldo."