A habagat rain drizzled down Manila evening. In the bridal chamber of the Greenhills villa, San Juan, the sound of wedding music outside gradually faded. I – Lara – had just changed into my heavy wedding dress after a long day. I thought my husband would come up soon. But instead, the lock clicked.

It was not him who entered, but Aling Lita – a thin kasambahay with silver hair. She rushed in, slammed the door, and whispered, her voice trembling:
— “Miss iha, if you want to live, bilis – change, run through the back! Wag lilingon!”
I was stunned. Losing my life – on my honeymoon night? Looking at her panic-stricken eyes, I did not dare to hesitate. I quickly put on my usual dress and followed her to the backyard. She pointed to a small path through the frangipani garden leading to the side gate:
— “Go now! Don’t look back!”

I ran, leaving behind the flickering lights of capiz and the sound of kulintang drums.

Benefactor

The next morning, I sneaked back to my mother’s house in Quezon City. At noon, I returned to the villa, looking for Aling Lita in the corner of the brick kitchen – where she still lit the stove and made salabat. As soon as I saw her, I fell to my knees and cried:
— “Yesterday… if it weren’t for you, I would have…”

She quickly pulled me up:
— “Don’t let anyone see you kneeling, anak. Even I can’t save my life. You have to know: this house is not what you think.”

She said. The husband I married – Diego – was the only son of Doña Herminia, the owner of a real estate corporation. Two years ago, Diego’s first wife died, everyone said “falling down the stairs”. But that night, Aling Lita heard them arguing fiercely. A few days later, her sister-in-law passed away.

Doña Herminia was domineering, considering her daughter-in-law as a tool to give birth to grandchildren and keep shares. Diego was erratic: sometimes gentle, sometimes violent. Right before the wedding, Aling Lita accidentally heard mother and son whispering in the office:
— “Marry her, give her some medicine, then say she’s ‘depressed’ like you before. The company shares will soon be yours.”
— “Oo, Ma.
My face turned pale. If I hadn’t run last night…

The terrifying truth…
I pretended to be shocked after the wedding to delay returning to Greenhills. At my mother’s house, I secretly prepared. Fortunately, on the wedding day, my mother slipped a mini recording pen into my hand:
— “In my husband’s house, there is something scarier than poverty. Keep it, one day you will need it.”

I sneaked back to the villa, using the excuse of visiting Aling Lita. While washing the dishes, she gently signaled to put the recording pen near the narra wood living room. That night, listening again, I held my breath. Doña Herminia’s voice was shrill:
— “That stupid executive over there can’t keep the company. Marry this girl, then let her ‘go’ like the last one. The transfer papers are ready.”

Diego smiled faintly:
— “Don’t worry, Mom. Let her drink red wine tonight and it will be done. Tomorrow morning, everything will be fine.”

My whole body trembled – but this time, I had proof.

The night of confrontation

My mother and I secretly contacted PNP–CIDG. They told me to return to the villa, pretending to be carefree. That night, I put on my wedding gown again, and sat in the bridal chamber. My heart pounded at the sound of Diego’s footsteps.

He picked up a glass of red wine and smiled:
— “Drink, dear, to celebrate tonight.”

I took a sip. Just then, there was a loud knock on the door. CIDG burst in, took the glass of wine, and a quick test showed a high dose of sedatives, along with the stock transfer documents already on the table.

Doña Herminia turned pale. Diego struggled in vain. I stood still, tears falling—tears of relief.

The end for each person

Doña Herminia and Diego were charged with organized murder. The case shook San Juan–Mandaluyong, and the rumors about the death of his first wife were finally cleared up.

Aling Lita—who had lived in fear all her life—was placed in the witness protection program; she chose to return to Batangas to live out the rest of her peaceful years.

Mom hugged me and cried:
— “You see, wealth combined with cruelty is just kulungan. Living simply but peacefully is better.”

As for me, I resolutely quit my job at my husband’s company and used my savings to open a small interior design shop with my mother in Quezon City. Someone asked me why I missed the opportunity to be a “Doña”, I just smiled:
— “If I had to pay with my life, wealth is just chains.”

That wedding night taught me a painful lesson: sometimes, the most dangerous thing is not strangers on the street, but the family I just entered. And my benefactor – skinny Aling Lita – pulled me out of hell at the fateful moment.

The story ended, but the echoes remained: anger at greed, gratitude to the person who reached out to help, and a lesson in listening to one’s own intuition.

My wedding night had no roses or candles – only darkness and danger. But from there, I found a way out for my life