Moments after the meeting Dan made a call.
The screen goes black. Call ended.
Dan leans back in her chair, exhaling as she pulls her hoodie sleeves over her palms. Her room is dim, but familiar—coffee mug half-finished, Leo's dinosaur plush tossed beside the monitor.
Of course it's me. No title, no memo—just quiet expectations and a ticking clock.
She stares at the Northwell folder she just created.
I'll need someone sharp. Someone I don't have to explain everything to three times. Someone I trust.
Her fingers move on instinct, already typing a name in her messaging app: Sugar.
[DM: SUGAR]
Dan:
"Bhieeeee, gising ka pa?"
Three dots. Then a reply.
Sugar:
"Alam mo naman tayo. What's wrong?"
Dan smiles faintly.
"Nothing yet. Just got voluntold to lead a construction wing para dun sa company ko ngayon. Full scale. No blueprint."
Sugar:
"Wow. Okay. That sounds like capitalism on steroids. Do you need tequila or backup?"
Dan stifles a laugh.
"Both. But mostly backup. Remote setup. Pay's solid. I need someone I trust. You in?"
There's a pause—longer than usual.
She'll ask what strings are attached. She always does.
Sugar:
"You're calling in the old pact."
Dan's smile softens.
Back in uni. The dorm days. When we promised to pull each other into whatever empires we built.
"Yeah. I'm calling it in."
Sugar:
"Then I'm in. When do we start?"
Dan leans forward again, posture shifting. The hoodie still slouches around her, but something in her eyes has sharpened.
"Now. Check your inbox."
Dan attaches the first set of credentials.
"You're Leo's ninang ganda. Time to help us build a future she won't have to clean up after."
Sugar:
"And you're the reason I didn't burn out in '17. This one's overdue. Let's go, boss."
Dan grins quietly, shoulders loosening for the first time that day.
Empire mode: on.
___ the next day.
"Sana lahat! Ugh, holiday sa buong Pinas! Tapos ako, eto busying busy sa kakatipa ng keyboard! Lord, hustysaaaa! Mag SL na kaya ako?". Sick leaves are meant to be used when a worker is suddenly ill and cannot come to work, but for many it's just another paid vacation day.
Danielle mumbled with a dramatic eye-roll, hands flying across the keyboard, her mouse clicking aggressively between tabs. She hadn't even finished her lukewarm 3-in-1 coffee when Slack pinged again.
"Another one?!" she groaned. "Hindi pa ba kayo nag lunch break diyan sa Spain?!"
She was nearing her third hour into her shift when the memory of last week's so-called Fri-yay meeting made her jaw clench again. It was supposed to be a simple turnover of project progress and a few roadmap reviews for Q3. But nooo, Axel had to drop a bomb like it was just another bullet point.
"Horizon's going into construction," he had said — casual, like announcing new merch.
Danielle almost choked on her coffee flavored candy.
"Juicecolored! Anong nakain neto?"
Construction?! As if they didn't already have enough businesses to juggle. Tobacco distribution, imported meats, luxury furniture, eCommerce operations — and now this?! She wanted to slam her laptop shut, walk to her barangay hall, and file a formal complaint for emotional damage.
"Oo, emotional damage! Anak ng tinapa! Ano to, new product?" Dan's mentally retaliating as the meeting unveils the great plans for the rest of the year knowing that the new e-commerce circuit is running well under her watch. Axel Fitz-James Real de Lara, her boss, laid vaguely his plans for the construction wing of his empire. As his father is transitioning all his powers to him next year, he needs to prove that whatever he touches is going to fire ablaze!
But of course she didn't file the complaint. Because that's not who she is anymore. The old Danielle would've panicked, not maybe but even cried. The new Danielle — the one who now runs the back end of multiple multi-million euro operations — just sighed, opened a new folder in Google Drive, and labeled it "Horizons Construction: Nightmares Vol. 1."
That was Friday. Now it was Monday. Her daughter was quietly scribbling answers on a workbook beside her, munching on skyflakes. Danielle had promised they'd finish two subjects before lunch. She kept one eye on Excel and one eye on DepEd modules.
"Mommy, what's 'predicate' again?" Ellenore asked shyly.
She blinked.
"Ah—uhm… that's the part of the sentence that tells us what the subject does… wait lang, anak. Mommy needs to reply to this Slack message first, ha?"
She was running an empire while juggling nouns and predicates, budgeting for this month's groceries, and praying the Meralco bill wouldn't come early.
No wonder her eye was twitching again.
Danielle turned back to her screen. Emails were piling up, and Slack messages were fighting for attention like a jeepney full of tambays shouting different destinations. She was reviewing supplier margins for the construction arm while mentally taking note of what to cook for lunch.
She was running an empire while spelling words and budgeting sardines. The duality of Danielle—Taga-gawa ni Axel by night, Nanay by day.
Debt was the silent guest in every room—quieter now than it had been a year ago. A constant presence she had learned to live with.
There were bank loans, car loans, and unpaid credit cards she had stopped counting. But giving up? Not in her vocabulary.
From someone who used to fear meetings, Danielle now led them. She could silence a room with a single sentence, delegate tasks across continents, and still have time to cook her kid's fave tinola in between dashboards.
"Director for E-commerce Operations," her email signature read.
It still made her laugh sometimes. She remembered when she had to fight for a 'Brand Manager' title just to get a ₱2,000 raise.
But even as she climbed, she never forgot the weight that came with it. The trust Caden placed in her wasn't just because she was efficient—it was because she could think ten steps ahead.
She could see how the new construction arm could connect to their existing furniture supply chain, how the imported raw materials could be routed for both commercial builds and high-end installations. She wasn't just managing.
She was building.
Bit by bit, file by file, task by task—she was creating an empire. Slowly. Quietly. From behind a screen in a tiny apartment in Metro Manila, wearing the same black hoodie and loose bun. She had no designer bag, no car, no flashy photos online. But she had power.
And more importantly, control.
A few more tasks ticked off her list. She took a deep breath, glanced at her child—still scribbling, now humming a song—and whispered to herself,
"Konti na lang, mhie. Malapit na tayo."
By mid-shift, she's already on the brink of exhaustion. Axel dumped a bunch of shit for the construction wing on her shoulders. When she is about to encrypt the files, her phone buzzes.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a Slack notification.
Caden.
She swiped quickly and pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder while continuing to type out a pricing comparison on her laptop.
"Hey, you free for a quick update?" Caden's voice was calm, steady—the complete opposite of Axel's chaos.
"Quick as in two minutes or twenty?" she muttered, half-joking, eyes still glued to her screen.
"Ten tops. Containers just landed."
Danielle straightened slightly. "Already?"
"Yep. All inventory refills have been sorted—your list, the ones for the EU zone, even the special orders for LuxeFurniture. I had the Spain warehouse prioritize your SKU mapping."
Danielle exhaled slowly. Relief, but the heavy kind—the kind that comes from dodging a bullet you loaded yourself.
"Good," she replied. "That saves me four hours of warehouse coordination today."
"You sound beat."
"I am beat," she chuckled dryly. "But thanks, Caden. Really. Did the customs release go smoothly?"
"Mostly. The French side needed extra docs for the mahogany imports. I had Em send them. But we're green across all other ports."
Danielle nodded silently. She trusted Caden like she trusted no one else on the team. If Axel was fire, Caden was water. Logistics and finance weren't glamorous, but without him, the empire would crumble.
"Tell Axel his empire is fully stocked," he added lightly.
"Ha! He'd probably want a champagne toast for that," she muttered. "With me pouring the glass, of course."
"You're the reason the glass even exists."
Before Danielle could reply, another name flashed on her screen.
May - CSM 🇵🇭🪑📦 is calling.
"Shoot. May's calling. I'll check the warehouse dashboards later. Thanks again, Caden."
"Got it. And Dan?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't forget to rest. Even emperors need sleep."
She smiled weakly. "Tell that to the emperor."
She ended the call and tapped on May's name. The screen split into two—May's face appearing on camera, headset in place, eyes looking tense.
"Dan, hi—sorry to call unannounced, but I wanted to flag a few orders."
"Shoot," Danielle replied, propping her chin on one hand.
"We've had three returns on the Luxe Miro chairs from the Dubai clients. Yung paa ng upuan—cracked during transit. Pare-pareho yung issue."
Danielle groaned inwardly. "Were these from the new shipment?"
"Yes. Marked under batch 'HMX-DUB-Q2.'"
Danielle quickly searched her tracker. Her fingers moved faster than her thoughts now—she was used to solving five problems at once.
"Found it. Those were packed by the Italian team. Foam padding was supposed to be doubled."
"Dan, sabi nung client, parang minadali raw yung pag-pack. Kita raw sa bubble wrap—kulang."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, log it as a high-priority claim. Send me the images. I'll pull up the video logs from the packing facility."
"Copy. Isa pa—Boston client. Hairline scratches daw on their Miro sets. Medyo irate. Gusto nila full refund."
Danielle winced. That account was worth almost €40K. "Okay. Set the call. I'll take it. But push it by a day—I need to prep the case with the packaging team."
May nodded. "Noted. At Dan…"
"Hmm?"
"Hindi ko alam paano mo 'to kinakaya. Kung ako 'to, baka nag-resign na ako kahapon pa."
Danielle cracked a tired grin. "I already lost it. Now I'm just trying to make sure no one else notices."
May laughed. "Grabe ka. Sige, I'll send you the images. Ping mo na lang ako if may update."
"Salamat, May."
Danielle leaned back in her chair for a moment, stretching. Her spine popped in protest. She tilted her head to check on her daughter. Ellenore was now coloring her workbook cover, little tongue sticking out in concentration.
Danielle reached over and gently fixed a stray curl behind her daughter's ear.
The weight of the world didn't show on her face, but it sat on her shoulders like armor.
She turned back to the screen. Labeled tabs opened and closed: supply tracker, P&L sheet, campaign plan for Q3, and a partially written refund template. She opened her Monday board and moved three tasks from "In Progress" to "Done."
Tiny victories.
Outside, a tricycle passed, honking twice, and the neighborhood dogs barked in unison.
Inside her small apartment, a woman with no sleep, barely functioning WiFi, and overdue utility bills just single handedly coordinated logistics across three continents.
And she still hadn't cooked dinner.
Danielle stood up, cracked her knuckles, and muttered, "Magsaing na nga."
But even as she rinsed rice and lit the stove, her mind never stopped working. She was already drafting the damage control email for Dubai. Planning a fix for future packaging batches. Timing the press release Axel wanted for the new construction arm.
Because this empire—this messy, chaotic, digital empire—was as much hers as it was his.
And every time someone underestimated her because of the way she sounded on calls, or the way she looked on camera, or the fact that she was homeschooling her kid while running ops—she smiled quietly to herself.
They didn't know.
They didn't know that the files, the power, the strategy, the resilience—they all lived in her.
And they didn't know that slowly, quietly, invisibly—
She was building something far bigger than just Axel's empire.