Seeds of wounds

Angelic Emperial sat in her grand mansion, a sanctuary of luxury and power that she'd painstakingly built.
The twins, Monic and George, were in their rooms, playing with the toys she’d showered them with to make up for the chaotic life outside these walls.
As she watched them, a rare softness washed over her. She approached, kneeling beside their play area.

“I will protect both of you, no matter what happens because the two of you are my pride and precious gems.”
She kissed their foreheads, her voice filled with the tender, fierce love only a mother could muster.

After tucking them in for the night, she retreated to her room. The walls closed in as memories of past betrayals swirled around her.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. It was a message from Marcelino.

"Sorry for all, Mariam. I want to win your trust and heart again. Thank you for giving me a chance."

She read it twice, her heart throbbing painfully. She had no feelings for Marcelino; that flame had extinguished long ago.
Yet, why did she feel this strange, unwelcome pang of emotion?

She walked to her mirror, staring at her reflection. “It’s just a sweet lie,”

she told herself. “Don’t trust the man who turned your heart into pieces.
It’s just sugar-coated words! Remember, you’re Angelic Emperial now,
the woman who can destroy everything against you, especially that bastard Marcelino. The old Mariam Reyes is dead!”

Her smile turned sinister, her eyes cold as if possessed by another spirit filled with revenge and hatred.

“Be careful, Marcelino. Soon you will be a slave to your own actions! I am Angelic Emperial, the woman who will devour you slowly!
Next time, you'll suffer more and experience what true revenge is!”

Her hand clenched a sharp object—a letter opener—so tightly that it cut her palm. Blood oozed, but she barely noticed, too consumed by her rage.
Realizing what she'd done, she dropped the opener, staring at the blood dripping onto the floor.
She rushed to wash the wound, wincing as she cleaned and bandaged it.

After composing herself, she replied to Marcelino's message:

"Yeah, thanks for your concern. See you tomorrow. Good night."

Before hitting send, she slapped her own face hard.

“Don’t fall for his concern. Don’t let him in,” she hissed at her reflection.

But as she sent the message, a part of her felt the sting of the slap more than the physical pain.

The next day, they met at a café.

Marcelino looked hopeful, his eyes searching hers for any sign of the woman he once loved.
Angelic smiled, a perfectly practiced expression that masked her true feelings.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Marcelino said, his voice soft and sincere. “I know I’ve hurt you deeply, but I want to make things right.”

Angelic nodded, sipping her coffee. “I appreciate your effort, Marcelino. Let's take things one step at a time.”

They began to meet more frequently. At first, it was awkward, their conversations stilted and forced.
But as weeks turned into months, Marcelino's consistency began to wear down Angelic's defenses, though she refused to let it show.
Each smile she gave was practiced, each laugh rehearsed.

Meanwhile, Arthur Reyes watched from the shadows.
Every day, he ensured the safety of his daughter and grandchildren, staying out of sight but never far away.
He was determined to protect them, even if Angelic never forgave him.

As time passed, Angelic and Marcelino’s public interactions appeared more genuine.
They dined at fine restaurants, walked through parks, and attended social events.
To the outside world, it seemed like a romance rekindled.
But inside, Angelic’s heart was a fortress of ice, her plans for revenge never wavering.

One evening, after a particularly pleasant date, Marcelino walked Angelic to her car.

“Tonight was wonderful,” he said, his eyes full of hope. “I feel like we’re really getting somewhere.”

Angelic smiled, the mask she wore so expertly slipping into place. “Yes, it was. Good night, Marcelino.”

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, and she let him, maintaining her facade.
As he walked away, her smile faded, replaced by a look of cold determination.
Inside, she seethed, the anger and betrayal still fresh in her mind.

Back at her mansion, she looked at her sleeping children, her resolve hardening.
“I will not let him break us again,” she whispered. “He will pay for what he did.”

The following weeks saw Marcelino trying even harder.
He brought her flowers, took her to her favorite places, and showered her with attention and affection.
But for Angelic, each gesture was a step closer to his downfall.
She played her part flawlessly, pretending to warm up to him, all the while planning his destruction.
She knew she had to be careful. Marcelino was no fool, and any sign of her true intentions could ruin everything.
She balanced her act, showing just enough vulnerability to keep him hooked but not enough to let him see through her charade.

One night, after an evening out, Marcelino and Angelic sat on her patio, the city lights twinkling around them.
“Mariam,” Marcelino began, slipping into using her old name in a moment of sincerity.
“I’ve never stopped loving you. I was a fool, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me.”

Angelic’s heart ached at his words, but she quickly masked her emotions.
“Marcelino,” she said softly, “I want to believe you. But trust is earned, not given. We’ve come a long way, but there’s still a distance to go.”

Marcelino took her hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

As they sat there, Angelic’s mind raced.
She knew she had to keep him close to execute her plan, but she also felt a confusing mix of emotions—anger, sadness, and something she couldn’t quite identify.
She had to stay strong, for her sake and her children’s.

The next day, as she was going through some old documents in her study,
she found a letter opener—the same one she had used the night she decided on her path of revenge.
Holding it brought back a rush of emotions, and she clenched it tightly, feeling the familiar sting as it cut into her palm once more.

“Marcelino,” she whispered to herself, “you will know my pain. You will suffer as I have suffered.”

But as the blood dripped onto the paper, she felt a moment of doubt.
Could she really go through with this? Was her need for revenge worth the cost?

That night, she received another message from Marcelino: "Thinking of you. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow."
She stared at the screen, her heart heavy. She had to remind herself of her goal, the revenge she had planned for so long.

She replied: "Me too. Good night."

The following morning, Arthur watched from a distance as Angelic’s car left the mansion.
He knew something was amiss but couldn’t put his finger on it. His daughter was hiding something, and it worried him.
He had to find a way to protect her, even if it meant confronting the demons of their past.

As weeks turned into months, Marcelino’s persistence seemed to be paying off.
To the outside world, they looked like a couple rekindling their romance.
But inside, Angelic’s resolve remained firm. She had softened enough to play her part, but her heart was still set on revenge.

One evening, after a charity gala, Marcelino walked Angelic to her door.

“Tonight was amazing,” he said, his eyes searching hers for any sign of the woman he loved.

Angelic smiled, the mask never slipping. “It was. Thank you, Marcelino.”

He kissed her cheek, lingering a moment longer than usual. “Good night, Mariam.”

“Good night, Marcelino,” she replied, her voice steady.

As he walked away, Angelic closed the door, her smile fading.
She went to her study, sitting at her desk. The letter opener lay in front of her, a reminder of her resolve.

“Soon,” she whispered to herself. “Soon you will know my pain.”

She clenched her fist, feeling the familiar sting of the cut. The pain grounded her, reminding her of her goal.
She would not falter. She would not let herself be swayed by emotions.
Marcelino would pay for his betrayal, and she would protect her children at all costs.

Arthur, still watching from a distance, sensed the growing tension. He knew he had to act, but he wasn’t sure how.
His daughter was on a dangerous path, and he had to find a way to reach her before it was too late.
As the nights grew colder, Angelic’s heart hardened further.
She would see this through. Marcelino’s time was coming, and she would be the one to make him pay.
The woman who once loved him was gone, replaced by Angelic Emperial—a force to be reckoned with.
In the darkness of her study, she planned her next move, the city lights casting long shadows across the room.
The game was far from over, and Angelic was determined to win, no matter the cost.