Episode 1

ANGELA

At the recently achieved age of 20, I stand as the eldest of six siblings: Gael nearing 16, the triplet brothers Andrey, Agustin, and Alonso just over ten, and little Blanca who's six. I deeply cherish my father, Angel Walton; his unwavering support has pampered me throughout, much like Grandfather Axel and Great-grandfather Agustin. Although Grandma does spoil me, she knew how to set boundaries, much like Mom, and for that, I dearly love them all.

My fifteenth birthday marked my official introduction to high society as the Walton heir, a lavish affair indeed. But nothing prepared me for the revelation my parents had in store post-celebration. On that day, I received a gift from Uncle Hugo—my memories flash back to Aunt Paola's wedding, where Dad whispered of Hugo's illness and promised we'd see him again if he recuperated. But it was not to be; the only trace of him I got was that birthday present, unveiling a painful truth—I didn’t carry Walton blood.

This revelation initially stung, creating distance between Dad and me, but soon I grasped the depth of his love, blood related or not. An unequivocal gesture, he named me his primary heir despite the absence of shared DNA. Whether fate or coincidence made him my father, I can't say, but I adore him—my dad. Perhaps one day, I'll face Hugo Mars and converse. He vanished overseas with his nanny when I was ten and, according to Mom, slipped into oblivion until that token appeared on my momentous fifteenth.

But such concerns are bygones; if Hugo Mars ever wishes to reconnect, he knows where to find me. Both my parents agree, so should he return, it would pose no resistance.

Gael, my brother, tends to gravitate towards seriousness, always immersed in personal ventures, his schemes a mystery. Despite this, we trust him implicitly; trouble is foreign to him, his decisions always measured and thoughtful, earning him our parents' trust.

The triplets are a force of their own—untidy, impish, and inclined towards pranks and exploration. Their affinity for animals led to the gift of a dog following the loss of my cherished pup two years ago, aged and burdened from a bustling home of six children. Now, I have Snow—a gift from Aunt Paola—a pristine white rabbit I adore and keep close, in my room or snuggled on my bed.

Blanca, our littlest, is a treasure. She came into our lives when her own mother abandoned her. While our parents searched for her, the woman had severed all ties with Blanca. Thus, she became our sister; despite being the sweetest child with striking blue eyes and the truth of her adoption known, like me, she remains untroubled by not sharing Dad’s blood. He cherishes us equally; we do the same for him and Mom.

I've just completed my degree in business administration, surprisingly ahead of time. I relish learning, and the university content was largely familiar, given that I've been shadowing Dad at the company since twelve. His role—teacher, father, friend, and partner—remains unparalleled. He knows of my gratitude for never demeaning me over lineage.

Blissfully asleep in my expansive bed when suddenly, I feel pressed down—instinct tells me it's Blanca.

"Blanca, get off; there's enough room," I murmur, eyes still shut.

"No, I like sleeping here," she counters, resisting distance. I pull her in for a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"What time is it? I have an appointment at the company, and you've got school," I say, still embracing her.

"I don't want to study," Blanca whines, that beautiful yet lethargic girl, bright but unmotivated in academics.

"Blanca, please get up. I have work, and Dad's expecting me at the office," I coax her with tickles.

"Ha! Alright, stop!" Blanca giggles.

"What's going on here?" Mom inquires with a smile upon entering my room.

"This lazy one doesn't wish to attend classes," I answer.

"Well, then. You get ready; your father just left and said he’d wait for you. He mentioned an important matter to discuss," Mom informs.

"Here's your slacker; I'm off," I say, rising from the bed and dashing to the shower. As I bathe, Blanca's laughter resonates, soon quieting—I presume Mom's convincing won her over, as usual.

Post-shower, I slip into office attire, brush my long, dark hair, and apply minimal makeup. I grab my purse and head down for breakfast, finding Gael at the table.

"Good morning, handsome. How are you?" I greet cheerfully.

"Good, beautiful. Can you drop me at high school? The triplets are still out, and I don’t want to be late waiting for them. If you could, Tomas will bring them," Gael requests.

"Sure, we’ll swing by on my way," I reply.

"Good morning. Your breakfast is ready," Grandma says, ever attentive.

"Thanks, Grandma. You're always so caring," I appreciate her effort.

"You know I love looking after you," she replies.

"Yes, but you should also rest," Gael suggests.

"She’s right. Take time for yourself," I chime in.

"That won't be happening. You won't get rid of me that easily," Grandma Rocio asserts.

"Well, do consider it," we continue our breakfast, and as we finish, Mom, the triplets, and Blanca enter.

"I'm off, Mother. I love you. See you in the afternoon," I bid farewell with a kiss to each, and Gael does the same except for Mom and Grandma.

"So, why the rush? You've got time to wait for the triplets," I question as we head to my car.

"I've got a date," Gael reveals shyly.

"Really? And who's the lucky girl who scored a date with my little brother?" I inquire, curious.

"I'm the lucky one," he blushes, and I glance over.

We drive in silence, mindful of his discomfort. My own dating history is nonexistent—I never found boys at school compelling enough to venture into dating. At high school, I catch sight of the girl anticipating Gael.

"Seriously? You're dating Luz? Uncle Camilo and Aunt Bianca are going to have your head," I warn.

"Please keep it to yourself, alright? You've no clue the lengths I went to for even a coffee date with her," Gael pleads.

"Your secret’s safe with me, but if you mess up, don't implicate me in your knowledge of the date," I caution him.

"I won't tell a soul. Thanks," he says, exiting the car.

I watch them briefly, admiring my brother's chivalrous act of carrying Luz's backpack. If Uncle Camilo knew...

After dropping Gael off, I head straight to the office, parking my car in the private lot designated for company owners—Dad and key partners.

Stepping out, only four cars occupy the lot. Near the elevator, an odd sound arrests my attention—a baby's cry. Locating the gray-eyed child, dressed in a tiny suit, wailing at about a year old, feels surreal.

"Hello there, little one. Where's your mommy?" I extend my arms, embracing him as he seeks refuge. The word "mama" escapes his lips between sobs, catching me off guard.

"Shh, no need for tears," I soothe the feverish child. A meeting with Dad awaits, yet I’m certain he'll understand this predicament.

I text Aunt Paola, heading to her clinic, calling for a pediatrician. She's taken aback, but I assure an explanation later. A message to Dad speaks of a delay due to unforeseen circumstances, promising clarity later.

Unaware of this little one's guardians, his vulnerability compels my protection. But what business does such a delicate, presumably well-off child have alone in a parking lot? And with a fever, at that—where are his parents?

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