The hacienda had settled into a rhythm that felt almost like peace.
Every morning, Bianca woke to the crow of roosters and the soft murmurs of Lydia preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Ramon was usually outside, repairing fences or tending to the small vegetable plots near the back of the mansion, while little Paolo trailed after him, asking endless questions. Bianca had come to love the simple predictability of these mornings—the laughter of a child, the smell of rice steaming, the way the air always felt fresher here.
She would spend hours with the animals, scattering feed and filling troughs. Pochi, the goat, was still her most demanding companion, bleating until she acknowledged him. She could swear the goat had learned to "complain" louder just for attention.
Lara, meanwhile, had appointed herself the mansion's "project manager." She scribbled lists of repairs and reorganized furniture. "If we're going to live here," she said one morning, her hair tied up in a messy bun, "this house should feel alive, not like a museum."
Bianca only smiled. "One step at a time."
The orchard was thriving. Where once the trees had been brittle and forgotten, now their leaves gleamed deep green, their blossoms fragrant. The guava tree that had awakened first still bore baskets of fruit, enough that Bianca had shared not only with the villagers but also with Lydia's family.
Paolo adored them, always asking, "Ate Bianca, can I have another sweet guava?" while juice ran down his chin.
Bianca should have felt content. But she couldn't shake Kaloy's words from that night on the veranda: Peace never lasts long.
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The first sign came in whispers.
When she and Lara returned to the market a few days later, Bianca noticed people watching her differently. Their smiles were still kind, but curiosity sharpened them like hidden knives.
"Those guavas cured Aling Rosa's arthritis," one woman murmured.
Aling Rosa herself, Lydia's cousin, overheard and clapped her hands in defense. "It's true, I swear! After eating just two, my knees don't ache the way they used to. My cousin Lydia gave me some, straight from the hacienda orchard. Miraculous!"
Another woman scoffed, though her eyes gleamed. "Impossible. But didn't you see Rosa walking faster yesterday?"
"They say the hacienda is waking up. Maybe the land really is blessed."
Bianca kept her head down, buying sacks of feed and seeds while Lara cheerfully bargained with vendors. But unease prickled under her skin. She hadn't intended for her fruit to become the talk of the market.
And then, she saw him.
The stranger from before—the tall man in simple clothes—was at the far edge of the square. Blending in with farmers and merchants, yet unmistakable. His sharp gaze followed her, steady and watchful.
When their eyes met, he gave the faintest nod. Bianca quickly looked away.
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End of Chapter 16