As Mariely descended the stairs, she spotted Zean sprawled out on the couch, massaging his temples.
"Zean," she called softly.
He turned his head toward her, still clutching his forehead.
"What happened?" she asked with concern, stepping closer.
"Hangover," he muttered.
"What time did you guys sleep?" she asked, gently rubbing his temples.
"Oh, I don't even know. I must've passed out—I woke up here on the couch," he groaned.
She sighed. "Nathan's still asleep, and so are Andrew and Clover."
"I'll make you some coffee," she offered.
"You? How was your sleep?" Zean asked, watching her carefully.
She yawned. "Not good. I kept waking up, taking turns with Clarisse to look after the baby."
He followed her into the kitchen, still pressing his temples.
"I'll grab some ointment for your headache. If it gets worse, take medicine after you finish this. But drink your coffee first, then get some rest," she reminded him while handing him a cup.
Zean smiled faintly. "Thank you."
She returned the smile, fetched the ointment, and came back to find him sipping the steaming coffee. As he drank, she massaged his temples before giving him the medicine.
The house was still quiet; everyone else remained asleep.
"Are you nauseous?" she asked.
He chuckled weakly. "Not really. I just don't want greasy food right now, or I might throw up."
"What soup do you want? I'll cook for everyone later," she offered.
"Anything, hon. I'll just take my meds," he said with a tired smile.
She nodded and leaned into him for a hug.
"I haven't even showered yet—your fiancé still smells like alcohol," he teased.
"You don't. You still smell fine."
"Liar." He laughed softly, hugged her back, and kissed her forehead before sitting beside her.
"Eat some bread first," she urged.
"Join me. After this, I might go back to sleep," he said.
"No problem," she replied with a smile. "Just rest."
A yawn echoed across the room—Veron had just woken up.
"Morning," Veron greeted.
"Morning." Mariely smiled. "Is your boyfriend still asleep?"
"He's up—there he is," she said as Andrew sat nearby.
"Have some coffee first," Mariely offered.
"Is Nadia awake?" Veron asked.
"Not yet, I think."
Veron began making her own coffee while Mariely quietly set out bread.
****
They were sipping their coffee peacefully when Mariely's phone suddenly vibrated on the table. She frowned as a missed call appeared—followed immediately by a message.
"Who's that, hon? So early?" Zean asked, raising a brow.
Mariely sighed. "The number isn't saved."
She opened the message—and froze. Her face paled, her hands trembling.
"E—Edward," she whispered.
Zean instantly snatched the phone, his jaw tightening. "That bastard."
"What is it, Zean?" Mariely asked nervously.
"He actually dared to resurface—he threatened Mariely," Zean growled.
"Let me see." Andrew took the phone, his brows knitting in concern as Mariely's unease deepened.
Everyone knew too well the torment Edward had already put her through.
"Faith, we need to put him in jail," Zean said firmly.
"Who's going to jail?" Nathan's voice rang from behind them; he had overheard.
"Edward. He threatened your sister." Zean handed him the phone.
Nathan read aloud: "I will kill you if I see you. Be careful, Mariely—and your family too."
"Bastard," Nathan spat.
"L-Let's just ignore him," Mariely said weakly.
"Faith, he threatened you. Enough of what he's done. And now he's dragging your family into this," Veron argued.
"But—"
"No, Faith. It's enough. We have to act before it's too late. Who knows what he'll do next?" Zean said firmly.
"Zean's right," Nathan added. "If we file a report and show evidence, that man will end up behind bars."
Mariely fell silent.
"We need to prepare the case against him," Clover, who had been listening quietly, added.
"Ugh, my head," Clover groaned but was quickly distracted when Mariely's phone buzzed again.
Nathan read it aloud: "Don't even think about going to the police. I'm right outside your house. I won't hesitate to pull this trigger, and they'll all be dead."
Mariely gasped, clutching her brother's arm. "B—Brother…"
Another message arrived immediately after:
"To spare your parents' lives, transfer one million pesos to my account. No—since your fiancé is rich, make it five million. Send it today. After that, I'll stop messing with your life."
The room fell into stunned silence. Mariely trembled, while Zean calmly pulled her closer.
"Just give it to him. I'll handle it—five million, I'll pay him," Zean said at last, breaking the silence.
"Zean, no!" Mariely shook her head frantically. "There has to be another way. That's too much money."
"Yeah, give him the money," Andrew cut in.
Mariely frowned at him, but Andrew leaned closer and whispered, "Don't worry. I know this man—he's persistent. But if Edward thinks he can outsmart Zean, he can't. Just let Zean play his game."
Clover scratched his head in frustration.
"Send it, Zean. I'll pay you back—but not immediately," Nathan added.
"B-Brother, no, please," Mariely pleaded.
"Mariely, this is the only way to silence him and protect our parents. Don't worry—we'll repay Zean in time," Nathan reasoned.
"Clover, call the bank manager. Arrange the transfer," Zean ordered.
"Geez, I just woke up and you're already giving me work," Clover muttered with a sigh.
Then Mariely's phone buzzed again. Andrew read it aloud: "Within this day, send it to my account. I'm counting on you, Mariely."
"Whatever. He can wait an hour if he wants," Zean said calmly, sipping his coffee as if nothing had happened.
Mariely stared at him, confused. Her heart pounded, torn between fear and disbelief.
The drowsiness that had lingered moments ago was gone.
Just when everything was finally peaceful, he comes back to destroy it all, she thought, shaking her head.
But what unsettled her the most wasn't Edward's message—it was Zean's calmness. He wasn't the type to throw money away. He wasn't the type to bend so easily.
Five million? she thought, trembling. What is he planning?
Edward wasn't just abusive. He was a storm waiting outside their door.
And Zean—Mariely couldn't tell if he was the shield against it, or the lightning that would strike back.