Doña Remedios Cruz sat on the edge of the enormous dark wooden bed, pressing her senses hard with thin but stiff fingers. The pain was not a simple headache—it was like a slow, heavy wave that was creeping inside her skull, as if invisible bells were tolling. She had been suffering from this pain for weeks, excruciating every morning, no position giving her any relief.

Manila’s best doctors have passed by their home in Forbes Park: neurologists, surgeons, therapists. They look at the test results, frown, and repeat the same words as if they were reading the same script.

—The CT scan is clean.

—The labs are perfect.

—The blood pressure… is better than a twenty-year-old’s.

But despite this, the illness is so fierce that Doña Remedios sometimes loses consciousness, turning pale, as if her life is being secretly dragged away.

Alejandro Reyes, accustomed to solving any problem with money, contracts, influence, or technology, is completely crushed for the first time. He calls in specialists from Japan, Germany, and Switzerland. He buys rare drugs and therapies that cost more than a house. He even has the northern part of the mansion converted into a small hospital—with machines, monitors, and clinic beds.

But no one helped.

The pain—or whatever it was—lived in his mother’s head like a shadow that refused to be driven away.

That night, one of the worst, Alejandro sat by the bed, holding Doña Remedios’ cold hand. He had difficulty breathing, his lips were almost colorless. His eyes trembled every time the pain returned like a sudden blow.

Alejandro gasped for air as he stared at his mother’s face.

—Ma… just a little, ha… —he whispered—. The doctor was coming… coming…

But even he didn’t believe what he was saying.

There was a soft rustling at the door. Careful footsteps, as if someone were walking on glass. It was the night shift cleaner—a small woman, her face showing signs of fatigue, her name was Zeny. She had only been working at the house for a month and a half and hardly spoke. He was always hunched over, moving quickly, not wanting to be noticed.

But that night, he paused for a moment in the doorway—longer than usual.

Alejandro noticed her gaze. It wasn’t curious. It wasn’t just pity either. It had depth… it was as if Zeny saw something that no one else could.

—Do you need anything? —Alejandro asked, his voice firm, tired and irritated by the amount of useless explanations he had heard.

Zeny swallowed.

—Excuse me, sir… I… —he hesitated—. Because, I’ve seen this before. In our province in Bicol… an old woman had something like this.

Alejandro’s jaw tightened.

—And what now? Are you saying you know more than the doctors?

Zeny shook her head, without a trace of resentment.

—No, sir. No, I don’t know more. It’s just different. And if you allow me… I can try a method.

Alejandro raised his eyebrows, incredulous.

The cleaner… wants to “try a method” on his mother?

He almost sent her away. He almost laughed out loud.

But at that moment, Doña Remedios screamed in pain, as if the entire room was shaking. She twisted and clutched her left thigh tightly, as if something was pressing on her from the inside. Alejandro’s stomach dropped with nervousness.

He couldn’t stand to watch without doing anything.

—What… what do you want to do? —he asked, his voice weak.

Zeny took a step closer. Her hands were shaking, but in her eyes appeared a calm and firm determination.

—It sounds strange… but sometimes, pain comes because someone is carrying something that is not hers. Not physically… but something stuck inside. Like work… like envy… like something that is not really hers.

Alejandro opened his mouth to laugh—to mock.

But he couldn’t.

Perhaps because of extreme desperation.

Or perhaps because Zeny didn’t sound fanatical. She wasn’t boasting either.

Her voice sounded… true.

Alejandro bent down to approach his mother.

—Ma… will you allow it? —he said softly—. Please.

Doña Remedios Cruz slowly opened her eyes. They were full of pain… and a silent plea.

She nodded.

Zeny asked everyone to leave, but Alejandro shook his head.

—I will stay —he said firmly—. I will not leave.

Zeny did not argue anymore. He walked to the head of the bed, raising his hands as if listening to the wind. He turned his eyes and closed them.

And suddenly the room sank into a strange silence.

The wind outside stopped. No machine sounded. Even Doña Remedios’ breathing became a thin thread.

Zeny spoke softly, almost in a whisper:

—There is something very old… very heavy… —he pointed carefully— here, on the left side. It is heavy… like a stone.

Alejandro’s hair stood on end.

—What is that? —he asked hoarsely.

Zeny opened his eyes.

—Something that is not his. Something that… was left by someone else.

Zeny brought her fingers closer to Doña Remedios’ head—not really touching, but as if examining an invisible layer. She suddenly stopped.

—Here you go.

Doña Remedios screamed, but it wasn’t a cry of pain. It was a very loud sigh, as if something was suddenly being pulled out from inside.

Suddenly Zeny squeezed the air with her fingers, moving quickly—and Alejandro saw something impossible to believe: in Zeny’s hand was a very small object, a dark circle the size of a pea… but so black that it seemed to swallow the light.

Alejandro lost his breath.

—Wh-what… what is that?

Zeny was obviously very tired, as if she had run a very long distance.

—A feat, —she said weakly—. In our province, we call it the stone of envy. It’s like a rock… but heavier. Your mother was robbed of her strength… and left it in exchange.

Alejandro shivered.

—Who… who would do this?

Zeny shook her head.

—Sometimes, they don’t realize it. Sometimes… on purpose. I don’t know who. But it’s gone. It’s no longer inside.

Doña Remedios took a deep breath.

For the first time in many weeks, her face relaxed. Her eyes became clear—clean, the dull and terrifying pain gone.

—Ale… —she whispered weakly—. My child… I feel… I can breathe.

Alejandro covered his mouth. His tears fell freely, shameless, uncontrollable. He bent down and hugged his mother as if he had pulled her back from the pit.

Then, he faced Zeny, his chest pounding.

—You… you saved her —he said—. I don’t know how to thank you.

Zeny looked down at the floor, as if the compliment was too much.

—I don’t want to thank you, sir. I just ask… don’t leave her alone. And don’t let anyone in her room.

That last sentence pierced Alejandro like a knife.

“Don’t let anyone in…”

That’s when he suddenly understood.

It didn’t just appear.

Someone had put it there.

And that person had to be very close.

Very close.

At sunrise, the doctors arrived as usual. They examined Doña Remedios, repeated the tests. They watched her walk around the room, drink some tea, and even smile.

—It’s… unbelievable —one whispered, very confused—. It was as if the pain had suddenly disappeared.

Alejandro didn’t say anything. He didn’t want them to laugh at what had happened. He didn’t want to belittle Zeny. He just stared at his mother—alive—and felt a mixture of relief and anger.

That same evening, Alejandro called his security chief and a private investigator.

Because now, he knew.

It wasn’t all over yet.

—I want to know who entered my mother’s room in recent weeks —Alejandro ordered—. I want cameras. Records. Everything. And I don’t want anyone to know. Anyone. Not even my partners.

The investigation progressed slowly, like a wound slowly opening.

There were cameras in the house… but none in Doña Remedios’s room, out of respect. However, there were footage in the hallways.

And that’s when the first crack appeared.

On three different nights, between two and three in the morning, someone entered the private hallway of the wing where Doña Remedios slept.

It wasn’t a doctor.

It wasn’t a nurse either.

He was Ramon Villareal, Alejandro’s right-hand man. The chief financial officer. The man he had called “brother” for ten years.

In the videos, Ramon could be seen walking calmly, carrying a folder and a small bag. He knocked on the door. He entered. He left a few minutes later.

When Alejandro saw that, it was as if the world had turned upside down.

“No…” he whispered. “Not Ramon…”

But the evidence was cold and clear.

The investigator had discovered something else: suspicious payments from a secondary account of Ramon’s to a woman in Samar known as “Aling Nene.” A healer. A witch doctor. Whatever you want to call it.

And the worst: a deleted email from the server, recovered by Alejandro’s technical team. It contained only one line:

“When the old man is gone, he’ll sign anything.”

Alejandro remained standing. The anger didn’t explode—it froze his blood.

That evening, he invited them to a peaceful family dinner. As if nothing had happened.

Doña Remedios was feeling better. Zeny, from the kitchen, was preparing tea and pandesal. No one suspected anything.

Ramon arrived, neatly dressed, smiling, with a false sense of concern.

—Boss… Doña Remedios, I’m glad to see you feeling better. We were really nervous!

Doña Remedios looked at him. And something changed on her face—like a memory locked behind a door.

—Your scent… —she whispered softly, holding her senses—. That scent…

Ramon stiffened.

Alejandro slowly stood up.

—Ramon —she said, in a voice that seemed no longer his—. What did you do?

Ramon’s smile broke.

—What are you saying, Alejandro? You’re so crazy—

—WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! —Alejandro roared, and it was as if the whole house had shrunk.

Zeny came out the door, pale.

Doña Remedios stood up, struggling but firm.

—I heard him… one night… —she said, trembling—. Someone came up and said: “Just a moment… he’ll be leaving…” I couldn’t move… I couldn’t speak… but I heard him.

Ramon backed away, sweating profusely.

Alejandro approached.

—Why? —he asked, and the word was full of pain—. I trusted you.

Ramon’s eyes filled with an ugly mixture: fear and resentment.

—Because you never understood! —he exploded—. Everything you built… is under his control! He is your weakness. Because of him, you became “good”. And I need you to be practical! Omnica Group wants the deal, but because your mother is sick, you are slow, you are emotional… everything will be lost!

Alejandro stared at him like a stranger.

—You did this… for the money?

Ramon swallowed, desperate.

—For the company. For the future. And yes… for myself too! I have the right to benefit too!

Alejandro clenched his fists tightly.

—What you deserve… is prison.

Ramon tried to run, but the guards were already behind him. They immediately knocked him down and arrested him.

Doña Remedios burst into tears—not from physical pain, but from sheer frustration.

Alejandro grabbed her.

—It’s over, Ma. It’s over.

And for the first time, Zeny raised her voice.

—The charges of envy are expensive —she said firmly—. But it doesn’t always win.

Ramon was arrested. The news echoed in the media: the CFO charged with attempted murder, fraud, and conspiracy. There were lawyers, hearings, scandals. There were people who tried to convince Alejandro not to “tarnish the company’s name.”

But he was no longer the same Alejandro he had been.

He faced the board of directors and said something that no one expected:

—I would rather lose money than lose my mother. And I would rather have a clean company than an empire built on fear.

Doña Remedios recovered as if life were slowly returning, drop by drop. Her laughter returned. Her eyes warmed again.

And Zeny… the woman no one paid attention to… became part of the family.

Alejandro offered her a decent job, studies, she replied, and a small apartment near home—no shame, no gratitude.

Zeny accepted only one thing.

—Let me stay simple —she said—. Because simplicity… that’s the only thing that can’t be bought.

One afternoon, a few weeks later, Doña Remedios went out into the garden. She sat in the sun, caressing the newly opened flowers. Alejandro knelt beside her, as he had when he was a child.

—I thought money could buy everything —she admitted—. But now… it doesn’t.

Doña Remedios smiled tenderly.

—Money, my child, can buy doctors… but not the truth. The truth always lives where they are not looking.

Alejandro looked at the house. Zeny was sweeping the hallway, peaceful, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

And there he finally understood the lesson that changed his life:

Sometimes, miracles don’t come in a white uniform…

They come with tired hands, a humble voice,

and a heart that still knows how to see the invisible.