Chapter 16 : Planning for an escape.

“So like I was saying, we need to come up with something more modern this season,” the textile expert said as she walked alongside Thersa into the boutique that specialized in high end fabrics.

Thersa kept her sketchpad tucked under her arm, her gaze drifting across shelves filled with rolls of fabric...silk, chiffon, organza, linen...all neatly arranged and inviting.

“There are a few more textures we can develop,” the expert continued. “Something with movement but still bold enough to make a statement.”

Thersa nodded quietly. “I want something different. Soft, but not fragile. There’s strength in grace...we just need to show it.”

The expert paused by a rack. “This one,” she said, pulling out a muted rose-toned silk blend. “It’s new. We haven’t tested it on structured pieces yet, but it has potential.”

Thersa ran her fingers across the material, thoughtful. “It’s smooth. Breathable. Maybe layered with mesh or net… but only at the hem.”

“Interesting,” the expert replied “You’ve already been visualizing the pieces?”

Thersa gave a small smile. “Most of it came to me last night.”

There was a beat of silence before the expert added, “After your marriage, I thought you had thrown your career away .”

Thersa’s smile faded, her fingers pausing over the fabric. For a moment, she didn’t speak.

Then, in a quiet but steady voice, she said, “So did I.”

She looked up, eyes clear. “But maybe that’s what makes this comeback worth it. I lost myself... but now I’m designing like I have something to prove.”

The textile expert studied her for a moment, then gave a respectful nod. “I love this spirit.”

She gently lifted the fabric roll and turned toward the front counter. “I want three yards of this. And the navy linen from earlier.”

As the assistant went to prepare the order, Thersa glanced down at her sketchpad. The lines were rough, but her vision was clear. 

….………………..

Just as Thersa turned toward another aisle of fabrics, the glass doors of the boutique slid open again with a soft chime.

Laughter floated in before the figures even fully stepped inside.

Rafael walked in with a relaxed posture. Beside him, a lively lady with a bright smile and effortless charm clung playfully to his arm, giggling at something he’d said.

“Oh, come on, Rafa,” she said, nudging him lightly. “You promised I could pick at least one dramatic gown. You owe me after last time!”

Rafael chuckled softly “You’ll make the designer quit before we even start.”

The lady beamed up at him, clearly unbothered. “You brought me here, deal with the chaos.”

 Rafael leaned against one of the glass counters, his arms crossed as he watched her drift from rack to rack like a child in a candy store.

“What do you think about this on me?” she asked with a flirty grin, holding up a shimmering deep blue fabric against her frame. She twirled playfully then stepped closer to him and rested her hand on his shoulder as she smiled up at him.

“It’s nice,” Rafael said simply  low but polite.

Thersa’s fingers froze mid-stroke over a delicate piece of fabric. Her heart thudded unexpectedly. She glanced up, just in time to catch a glimpse of them.

Quickly, she looked away.

“Let’s move to the other section,” she said quietly to the textile expert, turning on her heel.

As they walked, Thersa couldn’t help but steal a glance back over her shoulder.

 The lady was laughing again, looping her arm through Rafael’s as she piled another fabric into the assistant’s arms, then turned to pick necklaces from a side stand.

They moved aisle to aisle, and soon, their path curved toward Thersa’s side of the boutique. The expert was saying something about layering textures, but Thersa wasn’t listening anymore.

She reached for another fabric to keep her hands busy just as their footsteps neared.

They rounded the corner and suddenly, Rafael and the lady were standing just a few steps away from Thersa and the textile expert.

Thersa lifted her head slightly, pretending to reach for a swatch of fabric, but her eyes found Rafael’s.

Their gazes locked in for just a moment.

Then her eyes flickered toward the woman clinging to his arm, still buzzing with excitement as she examined a necklace.

Thersa blinked, expecting him to say something. A nod. A greeting. Anything.

But Rafael simply walked past her.

As if he didn’t know her.

As if they’d never exchanged words. 

They moved further down the aisle, the woman cheerfully chattering beside him.

Thersa's expression turned cold as she watched them leave. Her brows furrowed, and she felt a sharp pang in her chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much” the lady beamed, turning to Rafael and wrapping her arms tightly around him. “This is the best day ever.”

Rafael gave a small, gentle smile and patted her hair lightly.

Thersa’s lips parted slightly. Her jaw clenched. Her arms crossed.

She exhaled sharply from the corner of her mouth and muttered under her breath, “How rude.”

She turned away with a flick of annoyance in her steps, she buried her eyes in the next fabric roll.

Behind her, Rafael glanced back once, his eyes lingered on her figure before turning away again.

…...

Outside the boutique, the trunk of Rafael’s car was already open as the driver carefully packed about six full shopping bags inside.

“You’re the best cousin in the whole world,” the lady beamed, swinging her arms around Rafael’s neck before pulling back with a grin.

Rafael rolled his eyes, a teasing smirk on his face. “How about Terry?”

She gasped dramatically. “Well… he’s my second favourite,” she said with a mischievous giggle. “When you buy me that Lamborghini Revuelto for my birthday this year, you’ll be my top-top favourite forever.”

Rafael raised a brow, laughing. “Oh? You want your dad to kill us both?”

“He won’t,” she said, skipping toward the passenger side. “Not if he never finds out.”

They both laughed as they got into the car.

 .………………………..

Mondragon walks into his office slowly. He heads to a tall shelf lined with rare wines and selects one of the finest bottles.

He moves to his desk, and sats down heavily in the leather chair.

As he opens the bottle, a memory rushes in like a wave

“I see you were already leaving,” Mon had said as his gaze shifted slightly to the luggage nearby.

“I… I was going to Italy for a business trip,” Mr Saito had stammered, struggling to keep his calm.

“Italy…” Mon repeated, his lips curling slightly. “Oh, che, romantico. Sunset... wine... freedom...” His voice turned cold by the time he said that last word.

Mr. Saito’s smile faded instantly.

“Can I have the document now?” Mon asked flatly.

“W..what document…?” Mr Saito replied nervously.

“You know exactly what I came for. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

There was a moment of silence. Mr Saito swallowed hard and finally mumbled, “It’s… it’s in the study.”

Mon turned his head sharply. “What are we waiting for? Get me to it.”

Without a word, they walked down the hall.

When they got to the study, Mr. Saito's hands were trembling as he pulled open the drawer. He handed the file to Mon, who took it slowly, opened it, then looked back at him.

“I need you to sign here,” Mon said, placing the document flat.

“But…” Mr. Saito began to say, but the words died in his throat.

“You’re such a brave man, Saito. Remember that… even in your grave.” Mon stepped closer, gently straightened his collar, like a friend would.

Then, with calm precision, he pulled out a gun from under his shirt.

“I hope,” he whispered, “when you meet my father… you’ll be able to give him a good reason enough.”

Mr. Saito’s eyes widened in sheer panic.

“Wa..wait..’’ Saito was about to say something but…..

BAM.

One bullet to the head left the words to die on his lips.

The memory faded.

Back in his office, Mon slowly poured himself a drink and raised the glass slightly in the air.

“Cheers... to those who die along the way because of their..... betrayal.

He chuckles darkly and takes a sip.