Chapter- 6 Truth
1463 Words
In the quiet town of Sto. Domingo, secrets don’t stay buried; they just wait for the rain to wash away the dirt.
Elena’s father wasn't just a whistleblower; the "Red File" reveals he was Eduardo Magdallena, a man whose name was synonymous with a string of high-profile heists in 2008. But the mystery deepens—Jullian isn't just a random ex-boyfriend. He is the son of the lead investigator who originally "disappeared" Eduardo.
Jullian joined the force to find the truth, but he discovered a system that wanted the case forgotten. Now, he’s using Elena as his compass to find the man who ruined both their families.I looked at the black keycard on the hospital bed, then at Jullian’s cold, calculating eyes. The man standing before me wasn't the boy who used to share his notes with me. He was Officer Veloso.
"Criminal?" My voice was a hollow shell. "My father was a good man, Jullian. He was a driver. He was a provider!"
"He was a ghost, Elena!" Jullian pulled a leather wallet from his jacket and flipped it open. A silver police badge glinted under the fluorescent lights. "He was the primary suspect in the 2008 Alcasid Vault Heist. My father was the one who chased him that night... and neither of them came back."
Nicko’s heart monitor began to flatline—not because his heart stopped, but because he had pulled the sensors off his chest. He stood up, shaking, his hand leaning on the wall for support.
"The heist," Nicko rasped, his eyes fixed on Jullian. "That’s why the 'Red File' exists. My father didn't kill Eduardo. He hired him. Your father wasn't chasing a criminal, Jullian. He was chasing a man who knew too much about the Alcasids' dirty money."
"Don't you dare defend him!" Jullian lunged toward Nicko, but this time, he didn't grab his gown. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "The system 'forgot' the case because your family paid to delete the records. But I didn't forget. I’ve been tracking the money trail for years. And it all leads back to Sto. Domingo. Back to Elena."
"Bakit sa akin?" I stepped back, my heart hammering. "I was eight years old! Wala akong alam!"
"The song, Elena," Jullian said, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "The melody you and Nicko wrote? Those aren't just musical notes. They’re a sequence. A code. Your father taught it to you as a 'game' because he knew you were the only safe place to hide the key to the vault."
I looked at the yellowed scrap of paper in my hand. The notes. The 'Unfinished Symphony'. It wasn't just a childhood memory. It was a map.
"The music..." I whispered. "It’s not a song. It’s a confession."
Nicko looked at me, a look of pure agony on his face. "Elena, I swear... I didn't know. I thought the music was just ours. I thought the park was just ours."
"Nothing was ever 'just ours,' Nicko," I said, the tears finally turning cold. "Everything—from the scholarship to the song—was built on a crime. You’re the son of the man who bought my father’s soul, and Jullian... you’re the man who’s been using me as a lead for years."
I turned toward the door, clutching the notebook and the scrap of paper. The rain outside was turning into a full-blown typhoon.
"Elena, wait!" both men shouted in unison.
"H’wag niyo akong susundan," I said, my voice as sharp as a scalpel. "The system might have forgotten Eduardo Magdallena, but his daughter hasn't. I'm going to finish the song. And when the music ends... I'm taking the Alcasids and the Velosos down with me."
The rain didn't just fall—it hammered against the world like the judge’s gavel, demanding the truth.
The Narra tree stood like a silent sentinel in the middle of the storm. This was where it all began in 2008, and this was where the blood, the music, and the lies would finally collide.
Elena stood at the base of the ancient tree, her fingers tracing the rough bark. Behind her, the headlights of two cars cut through the darkness. One was the sleek, silent engine of Nicko’s black SUV. The other was the loud, aggressive roar of Jullian’s police cruiser.
The "Prince" and the "Policeman." Both here for the same thing. Both here for the girl who held the code.I pulled the notebook out from my jacket, protecting it from the wind. My hands were shaking, but not from the cold. I looked at the trunk of the tree, noticing the carvings we made as children.
“The Prince and the Girl.”
"Elena, back away from the tree!" Jullian’s voice boomed over his car’s megaphone. He stepped out, his badge gleaming under the blue and red strobe lights. "That tree is part of a crime scene. Your father buried the Alcasid evidence right there. Give me the notebook, and I can protect you from the Alcasids!"
"Protect her?" Nicko stepped out of his car, leaning heavily on a cane, his face pale but his eyes burning with an ancient fire. "You want to arrest her father to fix your own ego, Jullian! Elena, don't listen to him. My father is coming. If he finds you here with that code..."
"He’s already here, Nicko."
A third voice broke through the storm. A tall, gray-haired man stepped out from the shadows of the park’s entrance. Chairman Alcasid. He wasn't the "Father" anymore. He was the man who had deleted a life from the system.
"The song, Elena," the Chairman said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Just give me the melody, and your Lola gets the best care in the world. Forever. No more poverty. No more nursing shifts. Just peace."
I looked at the three men. The man I loved, the man I once loved, and the man who owned my life.
"You all talk about me like I'm a prize," I whispered, though my voice carried in the wind. "But you forgot one thing. I'm the one who wrote the lyrics."
I looked at the musical notes on the yellowed paper. I began to hum the tune—the "Unfinished Symphony."
Do-Mi-Sol-Si...
As the last note left my lips, I pressed a hidden knot in the Narra tree’s trunk—a knot we used to call the "Prince’s Secret."
CLICK.
A small, rusted metal compartment popped open within the hollow of the tree. Inside wasn't gold. It wasn't money. It was a digital recorder and a stack of letters addressed to: "To my daughter, Elena."
"Stay back!" Jullian pulled his service weapon, pointing it at the Chairman. "Chairman Alcasid, you are under investigation for the disappearance of Eduardo Magdallena!"
"You have no proof, Officer," the Chairman sneered.
"I have the music!" I screamed, holding up the recorder. I pressed Play.
The voice that filled the park was deep, tired, and unmistakably my father’s.
"Elena, if you're hearing this, the song worked. Nicko... if you're with her, I'm sorry. My friend, the Chairman, didn't want a heist. He wanted a way to hide the Alcasid's true crime: they weren't just stealing money. They were testing failed drugs on the poor of Sto. Domingo. I took the files. I hid them here. The music is the key to the digital vault."
The Chairman’s face turned ashen. Nicko fell to his knees, his world collapsing. "Dad... tell me he's lying. Tell me our childhood wasn't a cover-up for your experiments."
The Chairman didn't answer. He turned to run, but Jullian was faster.
"Eduardo Magdallena didn't run away," Jullian said, his voice cracking as he cuffed the Chairman. "He was the first victim of the drug trials. My father found him... and he died in my father’s arms trying to protect this tree."
I stood there as the police sirens drowned out the rain. Jullian looked at me, his badge heavy, his eyes pleading for a forgiveness I couldn't give. Nicko looked at me from the mud, the "Prince" now a pauper in a story of lies.
I took the notebook and the recorder. I walked past them both.
"The song is finished," I whispered.
I walked out of the park, into the light of the morning sun breaking through the clouds. The world finally knew the name Eduardo Magdallena. And Elena Magdallena? She was no longer just a character in their novel.
She was the author.
- Writer
