Gianna's POV
The day ended without him speaking to me.
He didn't say a word.
He didn't talk about what happened.
He didn't even apologize.
And that hurt more than I wanted to admit.
What made it worse was how angry I felt at myself—for waiting.
For hoping he would at least say sorry.
For expecting an explanation I knew I might never get.
So now, as the day ended in silence, my chest ached painfully.
Maybe I finally needed to accept the truth—he never cared about what we had.
Why was I still hoping?
Didn't he use me from the start?
Used me for reasons I still didn't understand.
I was walking toward the jeepney stop when a car suddenly stopped in front of me.
The window rolled down, and for some reason, my heart began to race the moment I recognized the man inside.
"You are Gianna Magsandingan, correct?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
He smiled and stepped out of the car.
"Is there something you need, Mr. Jim?" I asked, but he didn't answer. Instead, he simply stared at me—as if studying every detail of my face.
"Is… is something wrong?" I asked nervously.
"You really do look like her," he said softly, smiling through the tears gathering in his eyes.
Fear crawled up my spine.
"What do you mean, sir?" I asked, my voice shaking.
He took a deep breath and stepped back slightly.
"Look… I know you don't know me well yet. But I want to show you something. You deserve to know the truth—from me. Come with me."
"Sir?"
He opened the car door and waited.
I didn't know what to do. Every instinct told me this was a bad idea—but something inside me wanted answers.
In the end, I went with him.
I didn't know where we were going, only that my chest felt tight the entire ride. A few moments later, the car stopped in front of a massive white house—far bigger than Francis's.
The door opened.
That was the moment I finally asked myself why I had agreed to come with him at all.
"Follow me," he said.
I obeyed.
We climbed to the second floor, walked through a long hallway, then stopped in front of a single door. He went inside, but I froze.
Something about that room terrified me.
"Hija?" he called gently.
I forced myself to step inside—and suddenly, I couldn't breathe.
The walls were filled with large framed photographs. My body refused to move as my eyes scanned the room.
"Isabel Lyn Santiago," he said softly.
My breath hitched as my eyes burned with tears.
"She's your mother. Isn't she?"
I slowly turned to him.
"What… what does this mean, Mr. Jim?"
He handed me an album.
My hands trembled as I took it. I was afraid to open it—afraid of the truth forming in my mind.
But I did.
The first photo showed my mother and Mr. Jim, hugging, my mother holding a large bouquet of flowers. They looked so young—clearly still students.
The next page showed five people—three men and two women. In the center were my mother and Mr. Jim, holding hands.
"I met your mother when we were still in high school," he said.
"She was lovely and charming. Always smiling—just like you."
My hands shook violently.
I didn't want to turn the next page.
But I did.
There were three people in the photo—my mother, Mr. Jim… and a little girl.
"It's you," he said gently. "Your first birthday. We celebrated it here, with the whole family."
My knees weakened. I gripped the table beside me to keep from collapsing.
"We were happy," he continued. "Life was simple… but one day, you and your mother disappeared. I searched for you, Gianna—but she hid you from me."
The tears I had been holding back finally fell.
Please tell me this isn't real.
Someone wake me up.
"Gianna… I am your father."
I staggered back, my mind spiraling.
"No," I whispered.
"When I saw you at the party, I couldn't explain why something felt different—"
"Stop," I said, clenching my fists.
"I searched for you for years, and now that I've finally found you—"
"Stop it!" I screamed.
I backed away until my back hit the wall. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear.
"Dad?" A familiar voice suddenly entered the room.
Nayumi.
"What's going on?" she asked, confused. Her eyes landed on me before turning back to her father.
"Why is she here?"
"I found her," Mr. Jim said, tears falling freely now.
"I found your sister, Yumi."
"W-what?"
"I'm leaving," I said, forcing myself to stand. I rushed out of the room without looking back, ignoring their calls.
I barely remember how I got home.
The moment I stepped out of the taxi, I broke down, crying openly outside our apartment, not caring who saw me.
My mind couldn't process everything I had learned.
Was it true?
Was Mr. Jim really my father?
Was Nayumi my sister?
I didn't want to believe it.
Because if it was true… there was only one meaning left.
Francis is my cousin.
My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the cold pavement. Tears streamed down my face as my chest tightened painfully. I clutched it desperately.
Then the pain hit.
I screamed as my vision darkened, my breath slipping away—
And then everything went black.