By October 2020, the air in the province had cooled into a familiar breeze. The rice fields surrounding Carmela's hometown glowed with gold and green, the harvest season in full swing. Life outside might have slowed under the weight of the global pandemic, but inside their home, Carmela's world was evolving faster than ever.
She had just turned 20 and was studying remotely as a junior IT student at UP Los Baños. Though she longed to be physically in school, surrounded by the academic buzz and the scent of newly printed syllabi, she remained anchored at home for safety—and by choice. There was comfort in being with her family, though at times, the distance between her and her dreams felt heavy.
Her eldest brother, Kuya Alex, was now teaching high school full-time from home. His desk, once cluttered with old lesson plans and worn-out books, had been transformed into a digital hub with dual monitors and a microphone. The second brother, Kuya Vin, had turned his Computer Science degree into a profitable career, managing their family's sari-sari store and newly expanded online grocery business. Their only sister, Ate Cassie, lived in Manila with her own family and often sent messages and support from afar.
As for Carmela, her dual-monitor setup remained her throne. Between Zoom lectures and code reviews, she actively managed her freelance gigs, personal website, and, most significantly, her investments.
Unlike many students her age, Carmela had been financially prepared for this uncertainty. In her past life, she had witnessed the financial chaos that came with unpreparedness. This time, she had a head start.
Back in 2008, not long after she was reborn into this second chance at life, Carmela had convinced her older sister to place a quiet bet on a set of Lotto numbers she "felt lucky" about. Guided by her memories and uncanny timing, the numbers matched, and they won. The prize wasn't enough to shake national headlines, but it was enough to change their lives.
They quietly claimed the winnings and created a discreet strategy. With Carmela still young at the time, most of the money was placed in a secure account under Ate Cassie's name, which was used to make investments and the rest of the money was divided for buying lands for us siblings. Carmela insisted we tell no one—not their parents, not their brothers. Even Cassie didn't know the full extent of Carmela's financial planning or future moves. She simply trusted her youngest sister's judgment and promised to keep it secret.
Over the years, Carmela managed the funds through hidden channels. She avoided traceable bank transfers, opting instead to diversify the winnings in time deposits, early stock acquisitions, and even cryptocurrency. One of her earliest and most brilliant moves was purchasing Bitcoin at launch. With cryptocurrency still an obscure experiment in 2009, most people laughed it off. But Carmela knew. She knew its path, its volatility, and its potential.
Those Bitcoins sat untouched for over a decade, buried under layers of security in offline wallets and redundant backups. As the world fell into uncertainty during the pandemic, Carmela stood on stable financial ground—thanks to foresight and discipline.
But she never flaunted her wealth. To her family, she was simply the hardworking bunso, freelancing between classes and doing her best to help.
"Ang sipag mo talaga, Carmela. (You're so hardworking, Carmela)," her mother would often say, watching her type away in her room late at night.
"Gusto ko lang po makabawi sa lahat. (I just want to give back everything I can)," Carmela would reply with a soft smile.
She kept the truth close. Only Cassie had any inkling, and even then, she was only vaguely aware of how much Carmela had turned their early winnings into. Clara never asked, and Carmela never explained. The secret was safer that way.
Now, in late 2020, with Bitcoin surging past $11,000, Carmela reviewed her options. She sat quietly, list in hand:
1. Convert a portion of her crypto to cash.
2. Reinforce long-term investments through REITs and stable blue-chip stocks.
3. Expand into logistics and healthcare-related companies.
4. Build a private emergency fund for her family.
She knew what was coming—the market shocks, the panic, the misinformation. Her edge wasn't just in her rebirth—it was in her readiness.
She messaged Raziel one evening. "Hey, I'm thinking of making a big financial move."
"Want to talk about it? I'm free if you need a soundboard."
She hesitated. "It's just… I've planned for this moment for years. I have some hidden investments I want to realign before the economy gets worse."
"You've always been wise about these things," he said. "Trust your gut. Just be careful."
His calm support grounded her, a constant she never took for granted.
The next few days saw Carmela moving swiftly but cautiously. She liquidated a small portion of her crypto, careful not to attract attention, and directed funds toward dividend-generating REITs and future-proof companies. Through the alias-registered digital platforms she had prepared years ago, Carmela funneled the investments into diversified portfolios. She used encrypted financial tools and even structured a shell entity abroad, just in case.
Everything remained untraceable. Her family saw nothing beyond a diligent daughter doing her best.
Meanwhile, her digital community project *Lihok* was thriving. Now with over 5,000 active users, it provided reliable COVID-19 updates, emergency assistance links, and community-led job boards. She worked with barangay captains and youth volunteers to keep it authentic and updated.
"Raziel, we hit a milestone," she messaged one afternoon.
"Don't tell me—10,000 users?"
"5,000 but active. Still feels surreal."
"You're changing lives, Mel."
She paused. "So are you. You've always believed in me."
"I always will."
Later that week, during a rare phone call, Carmela surprised herself.
"If things settle, when we can actually go out… would you want to go on a real date?"
Raziel laughed softly. "I thought you'd never ask. I've been waiting for that question for years."
Carmela blushed even though no one could see it. "Then it's a date. Someday."
"Someday soon," he said.
That night, Carmela sat by her window. The moonlight blanketed the rice fields in silver. Her heart, though still guarded, felt lighter. She wasn't rich by accident. She was prepared by intention. The Lotto money was the spark, but her strategy and secrecy turned it into a fortress. And no one—not even her brothers or parents—would ever know the full story.
And that's how it would stay.