The IPR House was a grand, historical villa nestled in the hills, draped in ivy and laced with luxury. Every wall had a plaque from some major corporate contest it had hosted. As the McKrapper team's sleek black vans pulled up the drive, Zoey could see several reps already lounging outside in coordinated branded casuals.
The moment they parked, two IPR staff members in cream suits approached the limo, bowed slightly, and gestured to Zoey.
"Ms. Scandova, we'll escort you to your quarters. Your team must remain outside."
Mr. Dominic gave a sharp nod, though his eyes lingered on Zoey with a protective warmth. "We're rooting for you, Zoey. Call if you need anything," he said, holding her hand briefly before stepping back.
"I'll be fine, sir. Thank you for believing in me," Zoey replied, then turned to Leslie and Corelle, giving them both a soft smile. "Hold the fort, babies."
Corelle waved, holding back a dramatic tear. "Go slay."
As they drove away, Zoey took a moment to breathe in the quiet elegance of the IPR House. Her room was pristine ,soft white curtains, a marble desk, and a view that could silence even the loudest anxiety. But she didn't stay still for long. After a quick freshen-up, she stepped out to meet whoever else was around.
The hallway led her to a spacious lounge where a few reps had gathered. Some had their heads buried deep in folders, others were too shy to look up. One guy, however, had a confident, approachable aura—Dre Anderson from Kandys.
"Hey," Zoey greeted, tossing a charming half-smile. "You must be Dre."
Dre looked up from his tablet and chuckled. "You're not wrong. Kandys. And you must be Zoey… the McKrapper girl. Heard about your campaign shift. Smart move."
She giggled softly, crossing her arms. "You mean the kiddie promo twist? Had to think fast. Pressure's real out here."
"Facts," Dre said, nodding. "Anyway, welcome. You settling in alright?"
Zoey leaned against the velvet armrest. "Trying to. Serena in yet?"
He shook his head. "Nah, Serena De-Aguas? She usually shows up last minute, day of the contest kinda vibe. You'll see. She's… something else."
Zoey raised a brow. "Something good or something evil?"
"Let's just say... the devil wears red lipstick and smells like mango soufflé."
With a playful laugh, Zoey excused herself. The atmosphere was too stiff otherwise, everyone else whispering to themselves and poring over printouts like their lives depended on it. She returned to her room to cram a little more.
The next morning was full-on cinematic.
Ten Rolls-Royces lined the IPR driveway like royalty had arrived. Each vehicle bore the crest of the contestant's company—embroidered, monogrammed, regal.
Zoey stepped out in a structured pastel blue blazer dress with silver heels that glimmered like her determination. Hair in a low bun, makeup soft but radiant. One of the IPR hosts opened her door, and the cameras immediately started snapping.
Inside the National Auditorium, it was buzzing. Shareholders were chatting over cappuccinos, reporters were fixing their microphones, and company heads sat in VIP rows. Mr. Dominic, Corelle, and Leslie were front and center, proud like parents at a school play.
A long podium stretched across the main stage with golden place cards set before elegant mic stands.
A booming voice called out:
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our IPR 2025 Representatives!"
Each name was followed by applause, some louder than others.
"Representing Philippino Nation Foods… Ms. Natalie Cruz!"
She stepped forward in a glowing yellow ensemble, smiling wide.
"From Brilliantes Family Company… the heiress herself, Ms. Taylor Brilliantes!"
Taylor flicked her curls and waved with confident grace.
"Chokolatte King's pride… Marcus Jnr Olive!"
He winked at the crowd, smooth and cheeky.
"And from Kandys, the trendsetter—Mr. Dre Anderson!"
Dre strutted forward in a sharp all-black outfit with a blue Kandys brooch.
"Representing Xiami Group of Companies… Ms. Lisa Shangai."
She walked gracefully, her silver outfit shimmering under the lights.
"Kalad Foods… Emmanuella Hokey."
Emmanuella walked slowly, looking nervous but composed in a beige pantsuit that almost swallowed her tiny frame.
"McKrapper Foods Company… Ms. Zoey Scandova!"
As Zoey stepped forward, the cameras doubled. She smiled elegantly, gave a short but empowering nod, and delivered in her crispest voice:
"It's a pleasure to represent McKrapper. We believe in flavor, in family, and in fearless innovation."
Applause. Camera flashes. Whispers of "who is she?" floated through the crowd.
Next came:
"PHAREll Community Food… Mcwell Bartholomew!"
And then:
"Onyix Pelix Edibles… Lars Pelix!"
The final figure didn't come from backstage like the rest. Instead, the double doors of the auditorium flung open and in walked Serena De-Aguas. Her heels echoed dramatically. She was dressed in a fitted crimson gown, hair slicked back, her posture tall and threatening like a queen returning to reclaim her throne.
She took the mic with a confident smirk.
"Serena De-Aguas. I'm here for Sanchez Premier Foodz. Let's make this quick."
Her words weren't warm, but they sent a wave of excitement and anxiety through the room.
Then Zoey saw her.
Sitting in the front row with a flawless poker face, dressed in a white silk suit, was the CEO herself—Ms. Samantha Sanchez. Calm. Elegant. But behind her eyes was fire.
As Serena walked off, their eyes locked—Zoey and Samantha's. No smiles. Just mutual understanding.
Game on.
And with that... the introductions were over. The real contest had just begun.