Chapter 1

Puerto Cruz. 2005.

Esmeralda Rosaria de la Cruz jumped off her black horse in one fluid, graceful motion, rousing up dust and sand at her feet the moment she landed on the brown The beast neighed and trotted on the spot, gently yanking the reins she firmly held.

Chuckling, she gripped his reins. "Show off."

In response, Fuego huffed. Esme grinned at his antics.

She patted Fuego once more, taking a little trip down memory lane to when he was a pony. He had grown. So had she. She had owned Fuego since her quinceañera, about eight years ago. She remembered her father, Don Alonzo Marcelo de la Cruz, gave into her wish for a horse, albeit reluctantly. Ever since, she and Fuego had formed a strong bond.

"Look at us," she murmured, caressing his mane. He huffed some more and moved closer to her face to nudge her gently. There were times, Esme imagined he was talking with her. She reasoned that he listened to her ramblings whenever they were together. He was like that friend that had mastered the art of effective listening – someone who let her bare her soul without interruptions while waiting to dish out unsolicited advice at the end. Through the years, he had proven to be her best friend. She did not like people that much. Except for her childhood friends – Simona and Maria-Luisa.

A stable boy – tanned, tall, and lanky – hurried towards her, an eager smile on his face. "Welcome, Señorita Esmeralda."

She handed him Fuego's reins. Fuego reared a little, as though he was not in a hurry to be away from Esme.

Esme rolled her eyes. She had asked everyone on the hacienda to stop calling her that. But her father, Don Alonzo Marque de la Cruz, had reprimanded her. "The peasants must know their place!"

"Good boy," Esme rubbed Fuego's back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Esme watched as the groom led her horse away.

They left her line of vision when they made a left turn about a shrub. Sighing, she tossed her hair, letting the thick, raven tresses fall about her shoulders. She licked her lips and squared her shoulders. Her long, shapely legs strode purposefully towards the house. She took off her gloves and slapped them against her right palm. Surely, Fuego knew their time together was cut short. Her father was the reason for this. Don Alonzo had called a family meeting. What could he want to tell us? Esme pondered as she took the steps leading to the front door.

As she walked through the threshold, she saw her older brother, Carlos Cristobal de la Cruz. He was talking – more like flirting – with one of the maids. His hold on her arm screamed possessiveness. She would not be surprised if there was something between them both. The maid, acting coy with her head tilted downwards, seemed to enjoy the attention she was receiving from him. This she could deduce from the way the younger woman was blushing and playing with the hem of her apron.

It took everything in Esme not to barf at that sight. She rolled her eyes, her default response to anything she thought was ridiculously foolish. If I roll my eyes once more, I'll see the back of my head, she thought. She cleared her throat. The maid jumped at that, her arm jerking away from Carlos's hand as though it suddenly stung. Carlos gently turned to look at Esme, wearing a lazy smile. His hands went limp at his side.

"Esme." He had a smirk. "I see you're back from riding about on that horse of yours."

"Yes, I am." She squinted at the maid. The young woman caught the look of displeasure on Esme's face. Carlos grinned, dropping his hand to his side. Muttering something inaudible, the young woman curtsied at Esme, and walked away in the opposite direction with brisk steps with her head bowed.

"That you have not fallen off that horse of yours shows you had fun riding." Carlos said, taking slow measured steps towards her. His gait leisurely.

"Yes, it was fun. As usual." Esme stared him straight in the eyes. Her gaze was defiant, matching the sneer plastered on her brother's face. At 5' 10", they stood at the same height.

"I take it you know Father has an announcement to make." Carlos reached out to pick a non-existent lint off her midnight-blue hunt coat. For two seconds, Esme imagined thwacking his hand with the gloves she was holding.

She took a step back from him and crossed her arms, "Of course, that's why I had to cut down on my time with Fuego."

Carlos nodded, a fake smile plastered on his face. "Aren't you a saint? Such sacrifice. Imagine cutting down your time with your dear, precious horse."

"At least, I'm full of virtues. You wouldn't know about that now, would you?"

"Well, what can I say? Good for you. Shall we?" He extended his left arm to her.

Esme scoffed at the gesture, "Please, I'd rather walk with a cobra. At least, I'd be aware when it is about to strike. How do they say it? With some friends, who needs enemies?" At that, she walked away.

Carlos sniggered and murmured, "Whatever, bitch."

If Esme heard him, she did not care. She was not one of those people that believed she had to love her only brother. Who came up with the saying about blood being thicker than water? Those people must have been misled, and they went on to mislead other people. There were times she doubted if they were even related at all. That they were two years apart should have meant they would be closer and find comfort with each other. It was not the case with them. She stopped caring about their relationship a long, long time ago. There was nothing to salvage. People only salvaged thing that used to exist.

Since they were kids, Carlos behaved like he hated her. Anyone with eyes could not ignore how his dislike for her glared and flared. Their parents had given up trying to broker peace between the two. She knew the source of his dislike. He held a grudge. But it was not that she did anything to him, per se. It happened that Don Alonzo appeared to play favorites with his kids. Esme was the golden child; she could do no wrong.

Carlos's animosity towards her intensified when Don Alonzo gave her Fuego. For weeks after Esme got her gift, Carlos was angry at everything in the world. When she confronted him about his feelings few months after her birthday, Carlos told her about how he had asked for a car on his 15th birthday, and their father denied him.

She thought it was joke at first when she realized the reason for his grudge. How could something asinine be the reason why he came to feel all that hostility towards her? "A horse is not a car, Carlos!" Esme tried reasoning with him. She might have as well flogged a dead horse hoping it would get up and start prancing about.

In the following years, Carlos sought out revenge in the meanest of ways. It was years later she connected the dots. Whenever Esme introduced her new friends to the family, Carlos made it his mission to make romantic overtures at the young women. This way, Esme's friends would stop spending time with her. Carlos and his rakish charms would enthrall them. This would linger for few months until Carlos became bored with them, thereby ending the romance. As there was enough resentment to go around, her friends would direct the same resentment they felt towards Carlos at her. They would forget Esme had warned them against having anything to do with him.

Esme knocked lightly on strong wooden door of her father's study. "Father?"

"Mija!" she heard him call out, his voice a little muted. She pushed open the door. Her father was puffing a cigar while standing beside the French doors looking towards the western sky. As the sun was making its way to the edge of the horizon, its red rays fell on the floor besides her father's boots-clad feet. He was tall – three inches taller than she was, majestic, with salt and pepper hair. For someone his age, he looked trim and fit. Everyone commented how she got her good looks from him. He took one more puff in the time it took for Esme to walk to him.

"Father." She smiled brighter. "Good evening."

"You're looking well. I watched you from here as you were riding." He turned to face her. He held his arms open. "Come here."

Esme stepped into his embrace. She loved how he smelled of cologne and cigar. Just then, Carlos walked into the study.

"Carlos." Don Alonzo gave a huge smile. "You're back from town."

"Yes, Father."

"How are things at the offices? I know it is hard work running two companies at once, but your mother said it is best you get into it now, and you have not disappointed so far, my boy."

Carlos blushed. It was rare for Don Alonzo to pay him compliments. Even Esme tilted her head with a funny look on her face. Was hell freezing over?

Seeing Esme stand so close to Don Alonzo made Carlos almost cringe at the semblance between the two. It was as though the older man spit her out. Everyone talked about how Esme looked like their late abuela, Doña Carmen. One would have thought Esme posed for the portrait of Doña Carmen hanging on the left wall of the large study. Esme, Don Alonzo, and Doña Carmen had dark-raven hair, browner skin tone, green eyes, and well-formed lips that had a gentle Cupid's bow. Where Don Alonzo's lips were darker, due to years of smoking, Esme's lips were a rosy, healthy color.

This was one of the things that made him jealous of Esme. Why was he not the one who looked more like their father? "Things are fine, Father. Just the same old, same old. I'm surviving the deathly glares of the workers. I keep hearing they want to form a union."

"Remember they are peasants. They cannot bite the hand that feeds them. They can grumble, but that's all they can do. Nothing more."

At that, Esme flinched and gently stepped away from her father's embrace, tucking a lock of her hair behind her left ear.

"I'll always remember this."

"Good, good. Now, we wait for your mother. Please, sit. As you know, I have something important to tell you three."

"Father, you're not dying, yes?" Esme asked. A huge grin replaced the slight frown on her face.

"No, mija." He smiled and waved the hand holding the cigar. "I have good news."

Esme went to sit on one of the sofas away from the big mahogany desk.

“Good news?" Carlos's brow furrowed, as he shifted in his seat.

"The very best, I must say."

The door opened and Doña Beatriz glided into the study.

"Good evening, Mama." Carlos pushed back his chair and rushed towards her. They held each other.

"Welcome home."

"Thank you."

"Now that you stay in town for a whole week before visiting…" She turned about and saw Esme staring right at her. "Esme."

"Good evening, Mother."

Doña Beatriz took the few steps that led to her husband. She reached out her hand to him. Don Alonzo raised the proffered hand to his lips. She smiled at him, "You asked for us all to meet you here this evening. What is this news?"

Don Alonzo squeezed her palm gently. "Well, it is something great."

Carlos and Doña Beatriz sat on the two seats at the desk facing Don Alonzo. He took in his family. Satisfied they were seated comfortably, he sat on his seat. Putting out the cigar in the glass ashtray, he cleared his throat. "One of the merchants on the other side of town made me a business deal. He says he wants to be able to own about one-third of the fishing company. When he owns half, he will be sharing some ideas with us on ways to sell our products to the Americas. He has family there. I believe this would open us to a larger market."

"Well, that is good news." Doña Beatriz beamed.

"Yes." Don Alonzo shifted in his chair. "To seal this deal, he proposed that our children got married."

"Huh?" Esme said, her usually low-ranged alto rising up a pitch or two. Collecting herself, she adjusted in her seat and said, "I don't understand. What children are getting married?"

"He has a daughter, Aurelia." Don Alonzo stated. Turning to Carlos, he said, "You will be marrying Aurelia two months from now. I believe this would not be an issue for you."

Carlos smiled. "No, no. Who is this merchant?"

"Emiliano Villalobos," Don Alonzo said.

"Oh… I think I know Aurelia. I meet her once at a party. She seemed lovely," Carlos said, his mood becoming lighter. "Esme should know her, too." He turned around to face Esme.

"I have heard of her. I have not met her." Her tone was flat.