OCTOBER 2025
LILLIAN
The scent of Isaac's cologne was the last thing that anchored me to reality before the world went entirely blank.
I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep. One moment I was drowned in the agonizing weight of my own guilt, clutching his pillow, and the next, a harsh, demanding vibration shattered the silence.
My eyelids felt heavy, glued together by dried tears. Groaning, I reached blindly across the rumbling mattress, but my fingers met only the smooth, cool fabric of the sheets. The buzzing stopped, then started again, a persistent metallic ring that seemed to echo from somewhere deep within the room.
I sat up, blinked against the dim light, my hand instinctively dropped to the pocket of my coat. My fingers brushed past the fabric, seeking the hard rectangle of my phone, but instead, they wrapped around something small, cold, and metallic. I pulled it out.
Resting in my palm was a delicate silver chain. Hanging from it was a beautifully detailed pendant shaped like the tight bud of a white lily.
My breath caught in my throat. It was the necklace the strange old woman had pressed into my hand when I bought a gift for Liam and Cassie.
This was the same coat I had been wearing that day. I remembered slipping the necklace into my pocket, intending to deal with it later. Somehow, it had stayed there all this time.
I'd even washed the coat, completely forgetting the necklace was still inside. With everything that had happened; the wedding, Isaac's death, and the chaos that followed, I had forgotten it existed at all.
Before I could process the sudden chill crawling up my spine, the heavy silence of the penthouse foyer shattered.
"Sweep the primary study first. If the ledger isn't there, move to the bedroom safe," a man's voice rasps. Low, gravelly, and entirely unfamiliar.
"Are you sure the asset wasn't moved post-incident?" a second voice replies, muffled but clear.
"The boss said it's in the residence. Move."
Terror, cold and absolute, slammed into my chest. My lungs locked tight. They were looking for something
The heavy, rhythmic thud of boot steps began to echo up the stairs, drawing closer to Isaac's bedroom. They were coming right toward me.
My phone.
Where is my phone?
I scrambled backward on the bed, eyes frantically sweeping the dark sheets. Behind where my head had been resting, the screen blooms to life again. I lunged, pressing the glass tightly against my chest to stifle the sound.
The doorknob turns with a sharp, metallic click.
No time to run to the balcony. No time to crawl under the bed. Moving on pure, primal instinct, I throw myself into the narrow gap behind the heavy mahogany door just as it swings inward.
I press my back flat against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut, holding the air inside my chest until my ribs ache.
Two men stepped into the bedroom. Through the narrow crack of the door hinge, black tactical masks and dark jackets filled my vision. They moved with a synchronized, lethal precision that made my fingers went entirely numb.
"Negative on the nightstands," the first one grunted, tossing a decorative pillow aside. "Clear the walk-in. Check the paneling."
As their backs turn toward the closet, survival overrides intellect. If I stay here, they will swing the door shut. I have to move.
Stepping out from the shadow of the wood, I slipped into the hallway on tip-toe. My bare feet made no sound against the polished floorboards. My heart hammered against my ribs.
I reached the top of the stairs. Safety is one flight away.
But, the universe played a cruel joke.
The moment my foot hovered over the first step, the phone clamped in my hand erupts into a loud, acoustic ringtone. The screen flashed bright: Kuya.
The sound exploded against the vaulted ceilings of the penthouse.
"Someone's out here!" a voice roared from the bedroom.
Heavy, frantic footsteps thunder behind me. I didn't look back. I jammed my thumb onto the green icon, shoved the phone to my ear as I bolted down the stairs, my feet nearly slipped on the slick wood.
"Kuya! Help me! Someone is in the house—!" I screamed into the receiver, my voice cracked.
"Lillian? Lillian, what's happening?!" Liam's frantic voice bursts through the speaker, but the words cut short.
As I hit the bottom of the stairs and lunged toward the main exit, the heavy front door swung open. Another broad-shouldered man stood framed in the doorway, blocking the exit.
"Got her," the man at the door grunted into an earpiece.
I scrambled backward, my eyes wildly darted around the open-concept living room. The closing walls of muscle leave only one path open: the floor-to-ceiling glass doors at the back of the penthouse.
I threw the glass doors open and bolted out onto the terrace, but the boundary comes too fast. The edge of the rooftop offered a sheer drop to the city streets below. In front of me is the sparkling, deep blue water of Isaac's infinity pool.
I turned around, backing up until my heels hit the raised concrete lip of the pool.
The three men stepped out onto the deck, moved in a slow, calculated semi-circle to pen me in. The man from the doorway kept his phone pressed to his ear, revealing a black butterfly tattoo on the back of his hand. He listened for a brief second, his face completely expressionless.
"Copy, boss," he said coldly, and lowered the device. He looked at the other two and nodded.
"Please, don't—" My hands shook so violently the phone slipped from my fingers, clattering loudly against the stone tiles. The two men lunged.
I swung my arms, clawed at their faces, screamed into the open air, but a heavy hand gripped my shoulder, twisting me backward. My foot loses its purchase on the wet tile.
The world turns into a chaotic vortex of freezing water and silver bubbles.
Panic completely paralyzed me. I didn't know how to swim. My lungs gasped for air, but swallowed only the chemical-heavy sting of pool water. I thrashed wildly, my hands clawed at the liquid emptiness, trying to find a surface that wasn't there.
Above the surface, muffled, distorted voices drifted down, sounding miles away.
Darkness frayed the edges of my sight, turned blue into a heavy vignette. The violent thrashing of my limbs slowed into weak, useless ripples. My fingers involuntarily uncurled, and the silver lily necklace drifted away from my palm, sinking slowly into the depths.
My chest is on fire. A strange, heavy numbness began to soothe the pain.
As my body sinked lower, my eyes open one last time. Through the shimmering, distorted lens of the water, the blurry outline of the night sky appears. And there, burned through the darkness, is a perfectly round, impossibly bright full moon.
Then, darnkness claimed me entirely.
***
I shut upright, my mouth teared open as I suck in a massive, violent lungful of air.
My chest heaved rapidly, a sharp pain radiated behind my ribs as if I truly drowned. I am panting, my throat raw and burning, sweat dripped down the back of my neck.
Frantic, my hands flew to my throat, then my chest, scraped against my skin. No water. No wet clothes.
As I pulled my right hand away, a sharp, metallic edge bit into my palm. I looked down.
My fist is clenched completely tight. When I slowly uncurled my trembling fingers, there it laid—shining under the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The silver necklace. The white lily bud pendant is pressed so firmly against my skin that it leaves a deep, red imprint in my palm. It hadn't sunk to the bottom of the pool.
My mind is a chaotic storm of static.
Was it just a nightmare?
No. The terrifying grip on my shoulder, the suffocating, freezing weight of the water in my lungs, and the literal weight of the jewelry in my hand—it is too vivid, too painfully real.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, my knees trembling so badly I almost collapsed. It was only then that I looked down at myself.
I wasn't wearing the black funeral dress, nor the coat.
I was wearing a soft, long-sleeved button-up and loose, silk pajama pants. My usual nightwear.
My eyes darted around the room. I wasn't in Isaac's master bedroom. I was in the guest room of the penthouse—the room I used to sleep in.
A heavy, sickening wave of confusion washed over me.
Closing my fingers tightly around the lily necklace once more, I frantically searched the nightstand until my eyes landed on my phone. I snatched it up, my thumb pressing the home button with a force that nearly cracked the glass.
The screen bloomed to life.
7:06 AM
Monday, October 27, 2025
The breath completely left my body.
I stared at the glowing numbers.
Three months before the accident...
Before Isaac's death.
"No... no, this is impossible," I whispered, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat, turning into a sob.
But the phone didn't lie. The date remained unchanged.
I wasn't just given a second chance, but ripped out of the timeline of my despair and dropped right back into the past.
Isaac.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
Still clutching the necklace like a holy relic, I bolted out of the room. "Isaac!" I screamed, throwing open the door to the master bedroom. Empty. The sheets were neatly made, untouched.
"Isaac?!" I ran down the hallway, my bare feet scrapping against the floor, and threw open the double doors of his home office. The leather chair was vacant, the desk pristine, his laptop gone.
Ramirez Holding.
Panic, sharp and driving, erased every ounce of my hesitation.
I bolted out of the penthouse, bypassing the elevator entirely and taking the private emergency stairs down to the secure underground parking lot reserved exclusively for Isaac.
When the heavy door clattered open, the bright fluorescent lights of the garage blind me for a second. There, parked in its usual slot, is Isaac's sleek black sedan. And leaning against the hood, scrolling on his phone, is Manong Jerry.
"Manong Jerry!" I cried out, my voice echoed wildly across the concrete garage.
When he saw my face, his phone almost slipped from his grip.
"Ma'am Lillian?" He blinked, looking from my frantic expression down to my bare, sock-covered feet.
"Ramirez Holding." I throw open the back door and fling myself inside before the car has even finished rocking. "We need to leave! Now!"
Manong Jerry doesn't ask a single question. The sheer urgency of my grip on the headrest snaps him into gear. He throws the car into drive, and the sedan screeches out of the bay. I slip the white lily necklace safely into my pajama pocket.
The ride is a blur of motion, but time stretched out, agonizingly slow. I sank back into the leather seats, the familiar, rich scent of the car's interior hit my nose—a scent that used to mean safety, now tangled with the phantom taste of pool chemicals. The soles of my socks pressed against the floor mats, cold and damp from my sweat. My mind tries to rationalize the dates, the timeline, the men with the masks, but every thought collides against the single, blinding truth: Isaac is alive right now.
When we reach the towering glass building of Ramirez Holding, I stumbled out of the car before it even fully idles. My pulse thundered in my ears as I run toward the entrance, my socks slipped slightly against the highly polished marble floor of the lobby.
The receptionist's greeting dies on her lips as I lunged past her desk.
I sprinted for the executive elevators, my thumb hammered the upward arrow. My eyes locked onto the glowing digital floor numbers creeping downward.
5... 4... 3... 2... 1.
The doors slid open with a soft, mechanical chime. I stepped inside, the brushed steel walls reflected my disheveled reflection—silk pajamas, wild eyes, tangled hair. The elevator climbed steadily higher, the sudden vertical pressure pulled my chest, making each passing floor feel like an eternity.
Finally, the doors slid open, revealing the bright, bustling chaos of the executive floor. Just a few feet away, framed against the wide glass windows, stood a tall, imposing figure.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a name screamed in my head even though my lips stayed frozen.
Isaac...
He stood beside Marco, reviewing documents with the same calm authority that used to make entire rooms fall silent.
The air left my lungs. My vision blurred with a fresh wave of tears as I stumbled forward.
Isaac turned, his sharp, brown eyes locked onto mine as I stepped in the hallway, my entire body trembled.
"Lillian?" His voice is a low, stunned murmur. His usually sharp, composed expression slipped into pure, unfiltered shock.
Before he can say another word, I threw myself into his arms, my fingers dug into the crisp, heavy fabric of his suit jacket. I clung to him, my tears soaked his shoulder as a choked, desperate sob escaped my lips.
"I-I'm sorry..." I whispered, my voice broken, my breath came short, shuddered gasps as I buried my face against his chest.
Isaac stiffened. His body went completely tense, his arms hovered uncertainly at his sides. I heard the sudden, frantic spike of his heart thundering against his ribs, echoing through my own chest as he feels the heat of my body against his.
"Li-Lillian..." he whispered, an unsteady breath escaped him. "What... what's going on?"
I can't answer. I can't find the words to explain the wild, chaotic storm in my heart, the crushing relief of his warmth, his steady and reassuring presence.
For a heartbeat, the world around us simply ceased to exist. The frantic energy of the office, the ringing phones, and the muffled hum of the city outside all bled into a distant, gray static. His initial shock—that sharp, caught-off-guard tension—evaporated, replaced by a gaze that is heavy with a sudden, aching warmth. He moved cautiously, as if I am made of something fragile, as his arms slowly encircle me, locking me against him.
"It's ok..." he whispered, his deep, steady voice a warm, reassuring echo in the quiet, sunlit office. "It's ok, Lillian."