🍯🌸garden of my mind🌸🍯

[pewpewswagg1e]

~ ! masterlist !~

welcome to the sacred text guide!

The Secrets We Keep:

Chapter 1; Such Sweet Sorrows

Chapter 2; From the Beginning

Chapter 3; Upon Arrival

[pewpewswagg1e]

The Secrets We Keep: Chapter 3; Upon Arrival

Genre: Thriller/Mystery

Warnings: Mentions of Death. It may get a bit angsty at times so be prepared lol. (I have no idea what to warn you of...:'I)

Word Count: 1,765

Author's Note:

Chapter 3! *insert cute grey cat jumping in circle meme*

Thanks for reading again!!! Writing is genuinely so much fun and I have faith that someone will like this book more than me, u know? Anywayss! Enjoy this chapter!

Toodles till then! ^^

~j

The train car hummed steadily beneath Maya as she stared out the window, her thoughts flickering between exhaustion and disbelief. The blurred countryside passed like smeared watercolors—rolling hills, thick forests, the occasional farmhouse tucked into wintry brush. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since boarding—headphones in without music, hood up without rain.

She wasn’t sure what she expected Kirkibirch Heights to look like. Certainly not a real place. It sounded like something plucked from a fantasy novel—too regal, too ridiculous. But the farther the train climbed, the clearer it became: she was heading somewhere money didn’t just live—it reigned.

The conductor’s voice crackled through the intercom.

“Next stop: Kirkibirch Heights Station. Please gather your belongings.”

Maya stood, legs stiff from the overnight ride. She grabbed her duffel bag—the same one she used when she and her father went camping—and slung it over her shoulder. Everything else she owned was back at the apartment with Austin. This trip, she reminded herself, wasn’t meant to be permanent.

As the train slowed to a crawl, the station emerged like a movie set. Stone archways framed by black iron gates. Polished brass signage in elegant serif lettering. The platform was pristine, flanked by marble benches and hedges trimmed like topiary sculptures. It didn’t look like a station so much as a private terminal.

Maya stepped off, half-expecting someone to check her credentials just for standing there.

Then she saw him.

A man in a perfectly pressed black coat and matching gloves stood beside a vintage Rolls-Royce Ghost, its obsidian body gleaming even in the soft morning fog. A placard in his gloved hand read:

Miss Maya T. Castillo

She blinked. The air was sharper here—cleaner somehow. Colder. She approached cautiously.

“You’re… here for me?” she asked.

The man gave a single, respectful nod. “Ms. Statton requested I meet you personally, Miss Castillo. I’ll be your driver for the duration of your stay.”

“Oh? And your name?”

The man blinked once. “Victor Gerard.”

Maya gave a small curtsy, unable to resist. “Well, the fanciest and most grateful of pleasures to meet you, Mr. Gerard.”

He allowed himself a faint smile, took her duffel without asking, and opened the car door as if it were second nature. For him, it probably was.

Maya hesitated before stepping inside. The interior smelled of polished leather and something faintly floral—gardenia and expensive wood. The seat hugged her frame in a way her mother’s arms never had.

She leaned her head against the glass as they pulled away from the station. The town lay far below the cliffs—humble, cobblestoned, families bundled in coats. But the road they took twisted upward, through wrought-iron gates flanked by towering marble lions.

Kirkibirch Heights wasn’t just a place.

It was a kingdom.

And her mother had belonged to it.

Now Maya was being summoned back—like a long-lost heir with no crown, no map, and no idea who she was walking into battle with.

…

The drive to the estate was longer than she expected—silent, winding, surreal. The road curved through dense groves of pine and frost-laced birch trees. With every mile, the world grew more isolated. No stores. No homes. No signs of ordinary life. Just a guarded path climbing toward something hidden.

She glanced at Victor. His expression never changed. Eyes forward. Posture perfect. He might as well have been carved from marble like everything else here.

Maya sank deeper into the leather seat, the silence amplifying every racing thought.

The last time she had seen her mother in person, she had watched her disappear into a limousine just like this. Now she was riding in one, feeling like an imposter in a film where she wasn’t the star—just a misplaced extra.

Then they turned one final bend.

Maya sat forward.

At the top of the hill, nestled like a crown between cliffs, stood the Brewer Estate.

It wasn’t just a mansion.

It was a monument.

The main house stretched across the horizon, built of pale limestone that shimmered in the early light. Ivy draped over upper terraces, trimmed like lace. Massive arched windows lined the façade, edged in gold trim. Balconies curved outward like flower petals, each adorned with intricate wrought-iron railings and immaculate topiary.

Three fountains adorned the circular courtyard where the car slowed. One was shaped like a phoenix in flight. Another like two swans entwined. The third—almost absurdly—depicted a globe cradled by winged statues.

Maya couldn’t speak.

The scale of it—the detail, the cold perfection—was dizzying.

Back home, her apartment creaked when the weather turned cold. Here, even the air felt curated. Filtered through power, wealth, and legacy.

“This… this is where she lived?” Maya whispered.

Victor met her gaze in the rearview mirror.

“For the last eleven years, Miss Castillo,” he said. “Yes.”

The car stopped beneath towering double doors carved with the Brewer family crest. A butler in a crisp charcoal uniform opened her door before she could reach for the handle.

“Welcome to Kirkibirch Heights,” he said with a bow. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Maya stepped out slowly, boots crunching against the gravel.

This place wasn’t just wealthy.

It was engineered to remind you who held power.

It whispered, You don’t belong here.

And as the doors opened—wide, warm, impossibly tall—Maya had never felt smaller.

…

The butler led her inside, his footsteps silent against polished stone. The air was cool, scented faintly with bergamot and lavender. Marble floors veined in cream and ink stretched beneath glittering chandeliers that scattered fractured rainbows across the walls.

The sharp click of heels cut through her awe.

“Maya Thalinia Castillo,” came a voice like silk wrapped around steel.

Marina Statton approached from the east corridor, clipboard in hand, posture rigid. Her dark hair was pinned so tightly not a strand dared move, and her charcoal-gray suit looked tailored to perfection.

Maya instinctively straightened.

“Ms. Statton.”

“Miss Castillo,” Marina replied coolly, assessing her with a glance that was both polite and surgical. “You’re precisely on time. I appreciate punctuality.”

Maya said nothing.

Marina turned without invitation. “Follow me. You’ll be staying in the East Wing.”

The estate unfolded like a labyrinth—corridors lined with portraits of stern-faced ancestors frozen in oil paint. Lace collars. Medals. Faces that looked like they had never known rejection.

“I’ve arranged light refreshments in your suite,” Marina said. “Your formal attire will be delivered tomorrow morning. I recommend rest. You’ll need it.”

“Why?” Maya asked, nearly tripping over a thick Persian runner.

Marina paused at the top of a staircase.

“Because, Miss Castillo, when money dies, everyone claws to inherit its ghost. Best you prepare yourself now.”

She continued walking.

They stopped before a double-door suite etched with a rose motif in frosted glass. Marina opened it and stepped aside.

The room was larger than Maya’s entire apartment.

A king-sized bed sat beneath a vaulted ceiling. Cream curtains framed arched windows overlooking the cliffs. A sitting area rested near a softly crackling fireplace, velvet chairs positioned beside a tray of fruit, cheeses, and steaming tea.

It was breathtaking.

It was suffocating.

“Someone will confirm your measurements within the hour,” Marina said. “The estate schedule is in the folder on your desk. If you require anything, contact staff.”

She paused at the doorway.

“Oh—and Miss Castillo?”

Maya looked up.

“This is not a homecoming. Don’t mistake it for one.”

The door closed with a quiet final click.

Maya stood alone in the center of the room.

Surrounded by everything.

Comforted by nothing.

…

Nightfall approached. Maya sat near the fire, untouched tea cooling beside her. The leather-bound folder Marina had given her felt heavier than it should. Embossed in gold with the Brewer crest, it resembled a ledger more than a welcome packet.

Inside: a schedule as rigid as the estate itself. Every hour accounted for—brunches, formal dinners, “reflection sessions,” and the will reading.

Tucked within were photographs.

Her mother—Elina—smiling in silk gowns at gala events. Holding champagne flutes. Standing beside strangers Maya had never met, her hand resting delicately on a man’s shoulder she didn’t recognize.

She hadn’t seen her mother in over a decade.

Now she was finding her in curated smiles.

Click.

The door opened without warning.

“Of course,” came a sharp, glass-edged voice. “They gave you this room. Probably out of pity.”

Maya turned.

Angelina Brewer stood in the doorway, immaculate as ever. Her brown hair streaked with gray was twisted into a flawless knot. A silk robe shimmered in the firelight. She leaned against the frame, studying Maya like a stain on white fabric.

“Hello to you too,” Maya muttered.

Angelina stepped inside uninvited.

“I figured I’d see the prodigal daughter for myself. After all, you missed the funeral. And most of her life.”

Maya closed the folder carefully. “I wasn’t told there was a funeral. And if I recall correctly, I wasn’t even told about you until I was nearly eleven.”

“Oh, right,” Angelina said sweetly. “Must’ve gotten lost in all that silence you left behind.”

Maya’s jaw tightened. “You had my number. My email. I spoke to Mom last year—don’t pretend you couldn’t have reached me.”

Angelina smiled like a shark.

“Maya, sweetheart. Let’s not pretend anyone wanted you here.”

Maya stood, the fire casting her shadow long behind her. “Why? Because you didn’t want to share the spotlight? Or the money?”

“Because,” Angelina whispered, stepping closer, “you’re nothing. We had a good life before you. We continued it after you were gone. And now you’re here sniffing around for something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” Maya shouted. “She was the one who lied. She was the one who left me—not you!”

For half a second, something flickered in Angelina’s eyes.

Then it vanished.

“She made her choice,” Angelina said coolly. “And we made ours.”

She brushed invisible lint from her sleeve.

“You’re here now. Elina’s little charity case, arriving at the last second, hoping for a slice.”

Maya stepped closer. “If I’m nothing, why come in here at all?”

Angelina’s lips curved into a humorless smile.

“Because I wanted to see your face when you realize you’re not even worth the grease on a pepperoni.”

She turned toward the door.

“And no—you weren’t invited. She was ‘bonding’ with you. And you still weren’t invited.”

The door closed softly behind her.

Maya stood in the silence, heart pounding.

The reading was in three days.

Whatever was wrong with this place had started long before she arrived.

She only had to stay long enough to uncover the truth.

But one question lingered heavier than the rest:

Did her mother ever truly care?

[pewpewswagg1e]

The Secrets We Keep: Chapter 2; From the Beginning

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Thriller/Mystery

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of Death. It may get a bit angsty at times so be prepared lol. (I have no idea what to warn you of… :’|)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,413

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Chapter 2! *insert devious hand-rubbing* Thanks for reading and I am curious of everyone’s thoughts and feelings ^^ so l am looking forward to hearing from y’all 👀

Toodles till then! ^^

~ 𝐣

…..

“Are you alright, darling?” Austin asked sympathetically.

“We never got the chance—” Maya mumbled before bursting into tears again, fumbling to wipe them away. She scooted forward, attempting to rise from her crumpled position on the floor. The line had gone dead—Mildred was long gone.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying so much,” she said with a weak chuckle, tears still pooling in her eyes. “I can’t even remember her favorite color.”

Austin gave her a soft, saddened smile and wrapped his arms around her.

“She was still your mother, Maya… she was still your mom.”

…

“She… hung up?!” Sebastian slammed his hand against the desk.

Mildred looked at him, a thought flickering behind her eyes.

“Maybe she didn’t know,” she said quietly.

“Didn’t know her own mother was dead? Ha! That’s as rich as this family,” Sebastian scoffed.

Mildred approached him slowly, her expression unreadable. She gripped his tie, her voice cool and deliberate.

“Mr. Sinclair, I may be your assistant, but I am also your wife. Yes?”

He looked up at her and nodded silently.

Her eyes bored into his—steel and determination flashing within them. A chill ran down his spine.

When she released his tie and straightened, Sebastian felt a swirl of emotions rise inside him: guilt for letting business overshadow their marriage, gratitude for her constant presence, and a strange, unfamiliar pang he couldn’t quite name. After all, they were grieving too.

Clearing his throat, he tried to dispel the tension.

“I’m sorry, Mildred. You’re right—as always,” he said, reaching gently for her hand. “I just can’t believe this is happening. I just want it to be… over.”

Mildred squeezed his hand reassuringly, her eyes softening.

“And it will be. We just have to handle this cleanly and carefully. I’ll have Marina arrange for her to come to the estate—we’ll sort everything out from there.”

Sebastian nodded, comforted by her calm resolve.

Mildred stood and walked to the door.

“I’ll be in the offices in the West Quarters,” she said, swaying slightly as she closed the study door behind her.

As she passed through the foyer, she expected to hear voices or footsteps—but there was only silence. The wind howled outside, and a draft of cold air brushed against her legs.

Something felt… off.

…

Mildred arrived at the West Quarters of the mansion, where the staff resided. Down the hall, to the left, and up a small staircase was Marina Statton’s office.

Marina—the manager of the Brewer Estate, Kirkibirch Division—was small in stature but commanded attention with her sharp, no-nonsense demeanor. She had worked there for eight years and was exceptionally good at her job. She handled everything: scheduling, appointments, arrangements. If anyone could get Maya to the estate, it was Marina.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Ms. Statton, are you in there?” Mildred called.

Just as she turned to leave, a voice behind her made her jump.

“What do you want?” Marina asked, appearing suddenly.

“Oh! My apologies,” Mildred stammered. “I wanted to ask if you could call Mrs. Brewer’s daughter and arrange for her to come down for the reading of the will.”

Marina frowned. “Who? Everyone’s already been accounted for. I double-checked for the home-going ceremony next month.”

“Maya… Maya Castillo.”

Marina’s expression shifted. She glanced sharply at the office door behind Mildred and pushed past her to unlock it.

Inside, the office smelled crisp and clean. Everything was meticulously arranged—pens aligned like fine cutlery.

“Sit,” Marina ordered, pointing to a chair.

Mildred obeyed, clutching her papers in her lap.

“What was the name again?” Marina asked, typing rapidly.

“Maya Castillo.”

“Middle name?”

“Thalinia.”

Marina’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

“You’re sure it’s not Mayanna? That’s the closest match in my records.”

“I’m sure… I think.”

Marina rolled her eyes and pulled a branded cigarette from her drawer, along with an old military-style lighter. She lit it with visible frustration and leaned back with a groan.

“As another employee, you should understand my stress. Then again, you’re just an assistant. Still, a job is a job.” She pointed to a sticky note. “Write the number. Then leave. I’ll inform you of the outcome. Anything else?”

Mildred said nothing. She scribbled the number, stood, and walked toward the door. As she exited, she felt Marina’s eyes on her—like a tigress watching prey.

Something about all of this was bound to cause trouble.

…

“Are you going to go?” Austin asked gently from his side of the bed.

It was late, and Maya had finally stopped crying. They had returned to the bedroom around dinner. Austin’s heart ached for her. Her mother—whom she hadn’t seen in over a decade—was suddenly gone. And just when their relationship had begun to mend.

“I just want to sleep,” Maya murmured, crawling beneath the covers.

As usual, Austin reached for her—but she gently pushed his hand away, a silent request for space.

He withdrew and lay on his back.

“Goodnight, my love. I’m here for you. You’ll get through this.”

It was 4:00 a.m., and Maya still couldn’t sleep. Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under.

…

“Maya Thalinia? Where are you hiding?”

Elina’s laughter echoed through her father’s ranch house.

Maya giggled from her hiding spot. A deep voice called out:

“Mayanna?! We’re going to get youuu!” her father teased.

“You know, Santiago, I think the kitchen sink pipes are… laughing.”

“Let’s go check them out!”

They were getting closer. Maya’s heart swelled with joy.

That was before her mother left—before she stopped visiting.

Because she had a “real” family.

Elina sat on the couch while Santiago stepped outside to give them privacy.

“Sweetie, you’re ten now, and I thought it would be best to have this talk before you turn eleven, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” Maya said nervously.

She had noticed her mother’s growing distance. Her father’s sadness.

Elina trembled as tears filled her eyes.

“Phew… okay. I’m just going to say it. Mommy has to go home for good after this summer.”

Maya blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t just work when I’m not with you. I have another family… and a husband who loves me.”

Crying now, Elina pulled Maya into her arms.

“I will always love you, but I can’t visit as often anymore. I hope you can forgive me.”

Maya said nothing.

The last thing she remembered was a black-and-gray limousine pulling into the driveway, followed by an emerald-green Tahoe.

Five people stepped out: an older man with gray-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, two girls, and two boys.

Elina rushed out with her bags. The man gestured toward them, and the people from the Tahoe hurried to load everything.

“Thank you, thank you!” Elina called as she ran toward her… family.

“Maya! Come here! This is my husband, Nathaniel Brewer, and your siblings—Angelina (17), Lucianna (16), Marcus (14), and Oslo (12).”

They all looked numb.

So did Maya.

Nothing had ever hurt more.

Until now.

…

“MAYA?! MAYA, HELP ME!”

Her mother’s voice screamed through the darkness of her dream.

“You silly goose… just like your father—”

A memory flashed—

…

BRRRRIIINNNGGGG. BRRRRIIINNNGGGG.

“Ughhh,” Maya groaned, reaching to silence her alarm.

It was 3:30 a.m.

Austin had offered to go with her. She’d refused.

“It’ll be as quick as whiplash,” she had told him.

But five days earlier—

Ring. Ring.

Maya hadn’t wanted to answer. She had just learned her mother’s funeral had been a week ago—and no one had told her.

“Baby, it might be important,” Austin said, handing her the phone.

She sighed and answered.

“Hello.”

“Do not speak until I’m finished. Understood?”

“Excuse me? Who—”

“Good. My name is Marina Statton. You may refer to me as Ms. Statton. I am the manager of Brewer Estate, Kirkibirch Division. I am already frustrated because you were not even in my records, and being blindsided at a time like this is not ideal. Regardless, your presence is required at the estate. I allowed you one day to grieve before calling. Travel and lodging have been arranged. You are needed only for the reading of the will. I will email the details. Be there. If anything is unclear, I will forward the recording of this call. You have five days, Miss Castillo.”

Click.

“…Hello?” Maya said into the silence.

A ping echoed from her computer.

The email had already arrived.

With burdened eyes and a heavy heart, she made her decision.

She would go—not for the people, and not even for herself.

But for her mother.

[pewpewswagg1e]

The Secrets We Keep: Chapter 1; Such Sweet Sorrows

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Thriller/Mystery

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of Death. It may get a bit angsty at times so be prepared lol.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏,𝟓𝟐𝟐

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

First off, I want to thank everyone who clicks on this for even reading and I hope you enjoy the story. I’m pretty new to Tumblr so I am figuring out as I go. Enjoy ^^ toodles till then!

~ 𝐣

…..

It was a despairingly dark day for the Brewer family. Elina Brewer—the mother of the family, the matriarch of the house, and former political wife—was dead. The funeral was held at their family estate, a grand mansion surrounded by ancient cedar trees.

As Elina's husband, Nathaniel, stood at the front of the gathering, his tall frame seemed to sag under the weight of grief. The somber notes of a piano filled the air as the mourners paid their respects. Elina's second-eldest daughter, Lucianna, stood beside her father, her usually bright eyes dulled with tears. She clutched a worn handkerchief, unable to tear her gaze away from the walnut-and-mahogany-blended casket at the center of the room. The youngest son, Oslo, hovered near his sister, his young face a mask of confusion and sorrow.

As the priest began to speak words of comfort and remembrance, a sudden gust of wind rattled the windows of the estate. The candlelit walkway flickered, casting eerie shadows across the garden. In that moment, a sense of unease settled over the mourners, as if Elina's spirit lingered among them.

When the funeral was over, it was time for the burial. Only the immediate family could be present for that part of the ceremony. The sky was heavy with rain clouds that threatened to burst at any moment. The family gathered somberly around the freshly dug grave, their faces etched with sorrow and disbelief. Nathaniel stood at the head of the gathering, his stoic demeanor glaring in the face of his wife's sudden passing.

As the priest recited the final prayers, a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the cemetery, as if nature itself mourned the loss of such a vibrant soul. The first raindrops began to fall, mingling with the tears of those gathered. A silent promise seemed to settle over the Brewer family—to carry Elina's memory in their hearts forever.

The reading of the will would take place soon.

Back at the estate, Elina's lawyer, Sebastian, prepared to read the will to those required to attend. The list was established in the following order:

* Nathaniel Brewer || I

* Angelina Brewer (+3)

* Lucianna (Brewer) Hills (+3)

* Marcus Brewer (+1)

* Oslo Brewer

Added Recipient:

* Maya Castillo

The Brewer family was escorted along the long granite- and marble-paved road that led to their home.

Sebastian waited outside at the front of the house with his assistant, Mildred. They had always been kind to the Brewers and knew that in their time of need, a little stability was what they required most.

"You have got to be joking. Sebastian? She must've been out of her GODD**N MIND!" Angelina looked at him in disbelief. "I can't believe she would do this to us! So basically, you're saying we can't continue without that wretched thing here?" she continued, her voice quivering with anger.

Sebastian held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I know this is unexpected, Angelina, but please trust me when I say that your mother made it very clear: nothing would be read without Maya Castillo present," he said calmly.

Mildred stepped forward, her expression sympathetic yet firm. "The entirety of the will must be obeyed legally. Sebastian and I thought it best to tell you first so the others wouldn't cause such a rampage."

Angelina glared at them both, her fists clenched at her sides.

After a moment of tense silence, she let out a resigned sigh and stood from her chair. "Fine. I'll convey the news. But don't expect me to thank you for this." She marched past them from the study into the central hall, where her family rushed toward her.

Sebastian and Mildred exchanged knowing looks as they watched the Brewer family disappear inside. This was only the beginning of their nightmare.

Nathaniel and Angelina had hated Maya the most ever since she was born. Everyone knew that Maya Castillo's presence would bring chaos and uncertainty, but the full extent of the turmoil that would follow had yet to be revealed.

As Angelina relayed the news, the atmosphere in the house shifted palpably. Whispers and murmurs filled the air as each family member processed the information in their own way before reluctantly accepting it.

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Mildred braced themselves for what was to come. They had been loyal stewards of the Brewer estate for years, entrusted with both its secrets and its future. Now, with Maya reentering their lives, a shadow of doubt loomed over everything they had worked so hard to protect.

The sound of heels approached the study once more, signaling Angelina's return. Her face was set in determination as she met Sebastian's gaze.

"Let's get this over with," she announced firmly.

Sebastian nodded solemnly, knowing their fates were now intertwined with the enigmatic woman who could complicate everything.

Angelina closed the heavy oak door behind her, the sound echoing through the dimly lit room.

Mildred exhaled deeply. "I hope we made the right decision in telling her first," she said, her brow furrowed with worry.

Sebastian nodded, his eyes fixed on the ornately patterned rug beneath their feet. "We had no choice. Maya's presence is crucial to this reading."

As they sat at the polished mahogany table, stacks of legal documents and family heirlooms spread before them, a sense of dread filled the room.

Sebastian lifted his head from his hands and spoke quietly. "Well? Call her."

Maya's eyes fluttered open to a soft beam of sunlight streaming through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. The apartment was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioning and distant birdsong.

She glanced at her phone. 6:14 a.m.

Stretching, she accidentally hit the other side of the bed and noticed her boyfriend was missing.

"Austin?" she called out.

She slipped on her house slippers and walked into the living room. Through the glass doors, she saw him on the balcony, smoking a cigarette with a cup of coffee resting on the table beside him. His silhouette against the rising sun painted a picture of solitude.

As Maya stepped outside, faint tendrils of smoke curled upward and dissolved into the morning air. Austin turned at the sound of her approach, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said, taking a final drag before stubbing out the cigarette. He gestured to the empty chair beside him. "Join me?"

She nodded, settling into the chair and letting the warmth of the sun wash over her. They sat in comfortable silence, watching the city below come alive as the sky shifted from pink to blue.

"I thought you were going to quit," Maya finally said.

"Everyone has to start somewhere. You haven't seen me smoke in months."

"Haven't seen you and haven't done it are two very different things."

He grinned. "We could always test it. Kisses can take my breath away, too." He winked and stretched out his hand toward her.

"Inside, Pia-Pie?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Maya took his hand. She jumped into his arms, kissing him as he lifted her and spun her around. They laughed, savoring a morning that felt entirely their own.

Austin set her down and kissed her forehead softly. "I've been thinking about our trip next week."

Maya felt a surge of excitement. They had been planning the vacation for months, and the thought of escaping their routine was exhilarating. Leaning into his embrace, she imagined the getaway with the love of her life.

Her life felt perfect: a loving boyfriend, a beautiful apartment, her dream job, a lovely car, and the rekindling of her relationship with her mother—the one thing she had always wanted.

Suddenly—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Maya groaned. "Ignore it."

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Fine!"

She walked over, slightly annoyed at whoever would call so early. She snatched the phone from the side of the couch, expecting a telemarketer or a wrong number. But when she saw the caller ID, her heart skipped a beat.

It was her mother.

She hesitated, unsure what to expect, then pressed accept.

"Hello?" she said carefully.

"Hello, Maya Castillo?" a bright woman's voice chirped through the phone.

Maya's eyes widened. It wasn't her mother's voice. She began pacing.

"Yes, this is she."

"Good morning. My name is Mildred Whitaker-Sinclair. I'm calling regarding the will arrangements for your mother. Everyone is taking her passing very hard, so we understand your decision not to attend the funeral. However, your presence is required at the reading of the will, as requested by Mrs. Brewer."

Maya felt a whirlwind of emotions—surprise, shock, anguish, grief, and a tinge of something darker. She covered her face and burst into tears.

Austin rushed over, catching her as she faltered. She couldn't respond to Mildred calling her name through the phone.

This couldn't be true. Someone would have told her… wouldn't they?

After all, she was Elina's youngest child—not a Brewer, but still her daughter.

Elina Dianne (Fredricks) Brewer—mother of a respected family, former First Lady of Kirkibirch City, and Maya Thalinia Castillo's mother—

was dead.