The conversation drifted to family. Marco asked about her parents, her siblings in the city. He laughed about childhood memories, recalling games they had played in the province, though his words carried a polish that made Bianca uneasy. It was all surface, all politeness, but underneath, she sensed the probing.
Finally, he leaned forward, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret.
"You know, Bianca, I've been thinking. You're brave to take this on. Truly. But it's a massive estate. Surely you'll need help eventually. What about an investor? Someone with capital, who could help expand things—livestock, machinery, even exports. With the right backing, this place could make you very wealthy."
Bianca's jaw tightened. "That isn't my goal."
Marco raised his brows in mock innocence. "But wealth means security, doesn't it? You could repair the mansion, hire more workers, bring prosperity to the village. It would be… what Lolo Berto would have wanted."
At his mention of her great-grandfather, Bianca's stomach twisted. She recognized the tactic: draping greed in the language of legacy.
Her reply was firm. "I'll grow the hacienda in my own way, Marco. Not by selling its soul to strangers."
Marco's smile froze. A long pause followed before he chuckled, waving a hand lightly. "Of course, of course. Just a suggestion."
---
That evening, after Marco finally left with exaggerated farewells, Lara burst out:
"He's scheming. I can smell it a mile away."
Bianca nodded grimly. "He's circling like a hawk. Waiting for weakness."
Ramon, who had joined them with a glass of tuba in hand, grunted. "That man has eyes like a trader at the cockfights. Smiles, but always measuring. Be careful, Señorita. Men like that don't give up."
Paolo, listening from the steps, piped up seriously: "Nanay says Cousin Rosa told everyone in town about the guavas. Maybe that's why he came back."
Bianca sighed. "Maybe."
But in her heart, she knew Marco's interest was deeper than guavas.
That night, sleep evaded her again. She walked the orchard, lantern in hand, breathing in the scent of blossoms. Kaloy appeared atop the guava tree, tail flicking.
"He returned," the guardian said simply.
"Yes," Bianca whispered. "And he'll return again."
Kaloy tilted his head. "He smells the land's awakening. Like moths to flame, greed always comes. But beware: sometimes politeness is a sharper weapon than anger."
Bianca rubbed her arms against the chill. "I don't want this to turn ugly. He's family."
"Family can be wolves," Kaloy replied.
She thought of Marco's smile, his polished words, the subtle barbs hidden in his politeness. Wolves indeed.
---
End of Chapter 20