Frozen Vengeance: The Last Meal

chapter 7

The Village Talks

Mrs. Padernal had lived on Mahogany Street for thirty-one years, long enough to consider herself the unofficial historian of every scandal the block had ever produced, and she was not about to let this particular piece of news go unshared.

She arrived at the Ongpin residence at nine in the morning, still in her walking clothes, practically vibrating with the effort of holding the information in during the two-minute drive over.

"Elena!" she called through the gate, waving off the househelp who tried to intercept her. "Elena, have you heard? Do you know who bought the Ferrer lot?"

Elena appeared at the door, mildly annoyed at the interruption, still in her housedress. "Bakit naman, Connie, ang aga-aga—"

"Your son-in-law!" Mrs. Padernal announced, practically glowing with the delivery. "Rafael! He bought it — cash, in full, three hundred forty million, no bank financing at all! Ang swerte niyo naman, ang galing pala ng manugang niyo!"

By nine in the morning, Mrs. Padernal had already told three neighbors.

By nine-fifteen, two more knew.

By ten, the village group chat had become unusable.

Who bought the Ferrer lot?

How much?

Cash?

Was it really Rafi?

The questions multiplied faster than anyone could answer them.

Mrs. Padernal considered herself uniquely qualified to provide answers even when she did not possess any.

She arrived at the Ongpin residence wearing walking shoes and carrying the expression of a woman who had just discovered a national scandal.

"Elena!"

Elena came downstairs, irritated.

"What happened?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"The Ferrer lot!"

Elena frowned.

"What about it?"

"Sold."

"To whom?"

Mrs. Padernal leaned closer.

"Your former son-in-law."

Elena's face emptied.

"Rafi?"

"Rafael himself."

"How much?"

Mrs. Padernal waited dramatically.

"Three hundred forty million."

Elena laughed once.

It was not a happy laugh.

"That's impossible."

"I saw the deed transfer notice."

"Cash?"

"Cash."

The word changed the room.

Elena's expression went through several stages in rapid succession — confusion, disbelief, and finally something that looked suspiciously like calculation.

"That's not possible," Elena said slowly. "Rafi doesn't have that kind of money."

"Well, he does now," Mrs. Padernal said, delighted to be the one correcting her. "The whole village is talking about it. Some people think he must have won something, or maybe a big inheritance came through — either way, aba, that house is worth a fortune, and it's right across the street!"

Inside the house, Don Ramon had been listening from the sala, phone forgotten in his lap, his face slowly transforming from irritation to something far more interested.

"Ramon," Elena said, turning to find her husband already standing, "did you hear that?"

"I heard," Don Ramon said, already moving toward his desk, mind visibly racing through implications. "How is that possible? He had barely any savings a month ago. Where would he have gotten three hundred million pesos?"

From the hallway, unnoticed by either parent, Bel had stopped dead in her tracks, one hand braced against the wall.

She hadn't told them yet — not about the DNA results, not about the reason Rafi had walked away from the marriage so easily, not about any of the details she'd kept carefully buried since the annulment finalized two weeks ago. As far as her parents knew, Rafi had simply left, ungrateful and cold, and Bel had let them believe whatever version made her look least at fault.

Now, with this new information detonating through the house, she understood with sudden, sick clarity exactly how badly that decision was about to backfire.

"He must have hidden money before the annulment," Don Ramon said, already pacing, already building the narrative that would let him feel entitled to whatever was coming. "That's the only explanation. He knew something was coming, he cashed out something big, and he made sure it happened right after the papers were signed so none of it would count as shared property."

Don Ramon appeared from the sala.

"What are you talking about?"

Mrs. Padernal repeated the story with increasing pleasure.

Don Ramon's expression became thoughtful.

Rafi had always been useful to him because Rafi never complained. He had paid bills. He had rescued family members from financial trouble. He had signed documents without demanding to see every detail.

The possibility that such a man had possessed enormous resources all along was difficult to accept.

"He must have hidden something," Don Ramon said.

Elena's eyes narrowed.

"During the marriage?"

"Where else?"

Bel had been standing in the hallway.

She had heard every word.

The money itself did not surprise her as much as the timing.

Annulment.

Lottery.

Property.

Rafi had done everything after the separation.

He had been planning.

She suddenly understood that the man she had considered predictable had been moving pieces across a board she could no longer see.

"Mama," Bel said carefully, "we shouldn't assume anything."

Elena turned.

"Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not."

"Then call him."

Bel's stomach tightened.

She knew exactly what would happen if her parents confronted Rafi.

The DNA results would surface.

The affair would surface.

Marco would surface.

Everything she had carefully separated into different compartments would become one enormous disaster.

"That's fraud," Elena said, eyes lighting with something almost gleeful. "If he hid assets during the annulment proceedings, we could contest it. Bel is entitled to a share."

"Mama," Bel said carefully, finally stepping into the room, "I don't think—"

"You don't think what?" Don Ramon rounded on her. "Anak, do you understand what this means? Three hundred forty million pesos, cash, and he's living right across the street like it's nothing. Whatever windfall that man got, some of it is rightfully yours. Nine years of marriage — the law is on your side."

"We should call Marco first," Bel tried again, feeling the situation slide out of her control with every passing second. "Talk to a lawyer before we—"

"There's no time to waste," Don Ramon cut in, already grabbing his car keys off the entry table. "Elena, get dressed. We're going over there right now."

"Papa, wait—"

But nobody was listening anymore. Don Ramon was already halfway out the door, Elena hurrying to keep pace, both of them fueled by the particular righteous entitlement of people who had spent nine years believing every peso Rafi ever earned belonged, in some fundamental way, to them.

Bel stood frozen in the hallway, watching her parents march toward a confrontation that was about to expose exactly what she'd been hiding from all of them, with absolutely no way left to stop it.

Don Ramon was already reaching for his keys.

"If he thinks he can walk away with three hundred forty million after nine years of marriage, he's mistaken."

"Papa."

"What?"

"Don't go."

He stared at her.

"Why?"

Bel could not answer.

Because she had lied.

Because Rafi had known.

Because the annulment had already been finalized.

Because the money was not hers.

Because the man across the street no longer needed anything from them.

Elena grabbed her handbag.

"Come on, Ramon."

Bel watched them leave.

For years she had believed her parents would protect her no matter what she did.

Now she realized they would protect themselves first.

She followed.

Not because she wanted the money.

Because she was terrified of what Rafi might say.