Danielle sits in front of three monitors. The glow of blue light bounces off her glasses as she adjusts her oversized black hoodie, sleeves pushed up, wrists tense. The air conditioning hums quietly in the corner of the room, but it does little to fight off the nearby Manila heat. It's well past midnight, but she doesn't mind. She's used to the quiet hours when everything else is asleep.
Behind her, her daughter lies curled up with a stuffed toy on the bed, soft breath rising and falling in deep slumber. Unaware of the empire her mother quietly manages, she is safe in her dreams. Danielle glances at the clock — 12:34 AM. The hours slip by, as they always do when she's buried in work. It's been like this for years: the hustle, the sacrifice, the long hours. She hasn't known anything else. But tonight feels different. Her mind races, and she senses something just out of her reach — the familiar hum of productivity, the tension of constant movement, but with an undercurrent of something darker.
Hunger knocks at her stomach, but she ignores it, she's now used to drinking just coffee when working. There are more important things to worry about. She pushes her sleeves further up her forearms as she clicks through the multiple tabs open on her first screen. The hum of her computer, the sound of her little AC, fills the room, aside from the distant chirp of cicadas outside her window.
A red notification dot on her phone blinks, catching her attention. The signal from one of her bosses. "Dan, the SC (Supply Chain) guys confirmed the new container has reached port."
Her eyes flick to the notification. It's from Caden. Her pulse quickens slightly. Another batch of materials, another shipment to move through the labyrinth of the business empire they've carefully built. This time, it's wood samples for manufacturing. Scheduled to arrive at the Port of Valencia in Spain within the next few hours. A confirmation that, if everything goes smoothly, will be passed off to her team. The work doesn't stop. There's always something. There's always more.
She reads the message a second time, taking a moment to let the gravity of it sink in. Then, without hesitation, she forwards it to her team in the Philippines. They're an external agency, another layer of separation from the people she truly works for. They handle the customer success end while she manages operations from the shadows. In most of the workforce's eyes, Dan is just a guy — a necessary illusion. They've never seen her, never known her true face. And she likes it that way.
Another glance at the clock. She has a couple of hours before the shipment clears customs, but there's no time to waste. Danielle types a quick message to her contacts in Valencia, confirming the details, setting things in motion. Efficiency is key in this business, especially when you're as far removed from the physical operations as she is.
On one screen, an order for premium tobacco leaves, cheese of different kinds, and wine are in the final stages of processing. The transaction appears above board, but Danielle knows better. Its legality ensures smooth operations for the group's front business. The tobacco operation, though legal in its presentation, is simply another part of their empire's intricate facade. Another screen flashes with a contract for imported meat products. Its details scroll by, showing shipment dates and quantities. She eyes the numbers, mentally noting the irregularities hidden between the lines. The meat imports are just one piece of the puzzle — all part of the group's legal-facing businesses. All part of the mask they present to the outside world.
The third screen is where Danielle's true expertise lies: a line of intricate, hand-crafted furniture designs being reviewed for a luxury collection. This is where she excels. From design and production to final delivery, Danielle knows this business inside and out. She has spent years honing her skills, becoming a master of her craft. The materials are perfect. The designs, impeccable. She knows these products will sell for premium prices to the rich and the powerful. This is where she's truly at home — in the details, in the creation of something beautiful.
From the outside, the business looks above board—wholesome, even. Danielle had learned the ins and outs of furniture production, food importation, and tobacco distribution like second nature. They were all profitable and mostly untouched by the authorities. The public face of Horizons Holding is clean. No one suspects what truly lies beneath.
Marking her to-do list done, one after the other, she exhales with relief. Almost there. "Yesssss! Konti na lang, mhie! Kaya pa!" She silently cheers herself on. The soft glow of the monitors flickers against Danielle's face as the faint beat of SB19 - Dungka plays through her headphones. But in her mind, she's no longer sitting alone in her dim room.
She's back in the crowd — a sea of faces, all moving as one. The stage lights blaze bright, cutting through the night like fireworks. The bass thumps, reverberating through the ground beneath her feet.
The music surges through her veins.
Her arms rise, fists banging in time with the beat, lost in the roar of thousands of voices singing together.
"Wag mong sayangin 'tooo..." the crowd belts out, and so does she, lips moving with every word even though the quiet of her home keeps it silent.
She remembers the sweat, the cheers, the pulse of the music filling every corner of the arena — a memory burned bright against the backdrop of lonely nights now.
Her heart races, the energy of that night thrumming inside her like a secret fire, a burst of life in the stillness.
Behind her, Leo sleeps peacefully, unaware of the concert raging just beneath her mother's calm exterior.
This is Dan's private rebellion — a silent shout, a beat carried in her bones.
Another hour, and she can call it a night. Since another agency handles customer care, she is no longer bothered by customer complaints, a far cry from when she first started with this journey. No more late-night calls from angry buyers or customers asking for status updates, when she lent a hand in answering calls for English speaking clients. Now, she's the one who makes the decisions, the one who holds the power. It's been a year since she joined Horizons Holding, and she's worked her way up, becoming indispensable.
"Director for E-commerce Operations. Not bad!" she whispers to herself with a wry smile. "Life nga naman. Kelan lang, brand manager ka, teh!" She shakes her head at the thought. It's hard to believe how far she's come. From being a young, uncertain brand manager to now running an entire division of a sprawling, multinational empire. She hasn't just managed to survive. She's thrived.
But sometimes, she still wonders if this is where she belongs. A year ago, she was a small fish in a big pond, unsure of her place. Now, she's part of the inner circle, pulling strings in the shadows. It's not an easy path, and it's not without its costs. She's been forced to make compromises, bending to the whims of her superiors — Dos, especially.
She lets out a sigh and leans back in her chair for a moment. The click-clack of the keyboard and the low hum of the air conditioning are the only sounds that fill the room. She glances at the sleeping child behind her, her heart tightening. For her daughter, she would do anything to ensure a better future, even if it means walking a dangerous path in the dark corners of the world.
The phone vibrates again. Another call from her boss.
"Dan," his voice comes through the receiver with a sharp edge. "What the hell are you listening to?" Clearly hearing what Danielle was hearing through her headphones.
Danielle blinks, a jolt of annoyance running through her. She hurriedly clicks pause on her Spotify app, scrambling to adjust the volume. But it's too late. The punk rock song she's been listening to — The All-American Rejects, "Swing, Swing" — still blasts through her headphones for a second before she can mute it completely.
She rolls her eyes and pulls the headphones off, her patience thinning.
"Five whole minutes, Dan! I've been waiting for you. When are you going to join the call? Next week?"
Rolling her eyes, she doesn't even try to hide her frustration.
"Look, I'm not included in that meeting. It's for the execs. When have I ever joined that call? Leave me out of it. I'm getting the containers out of the port and heading to the warehouses. The wood samples need to be processed ASAP."
There's a long pause on the other end of the line.
"Dan, when I say 'join the call,' YOU. JOIN. THE. CALL." His breathing hitching with frustration, he continues, "There are new things we're exploring, and you're going to handle them. JOIN. THE. CALL. NOW!"
Her stomach clenches as his words pierce through the quiet. She can feel the tension building. Her fingers hover over the keyboard. She knows what's coming next. She knows it's time to make a choice — and it isn't one she'll be able to take lightly.
Rolling her eyes again, she pulls herself together, grabs the mouse, scans through the invited list, and hovers the pointer to join the call.
She takes a deep breath and clicks the link to join the call, her face already set in a mask of professionalism, ready to face whatever comes next.
But as soon as her video feed loads, she's still wearing the oversized black hoodie she always feels most comfortable in. Her hair's messy, pushed under her bangs, barely enough to cover her face. The hoodie is just a little too baggy, a little too informal. She hasn't had time to change out of it, but she doesn't care.
Then his voice, sharp and annoyed, cuts through the screen.
"Dan, what the hell is that you're wearing? Is this some kind of joke?"
She feels a wave of irritation crawl up her spine.
"What? It's a hoodie," she shoots back, barely holding back her frustration. "I'm not in the mood to play dress-up for you, okay? You asked me to join the call, so here I am. What more do you want?"
"Dan, seriously?" His face, visible in the corner of her screen, twitches with frustration. "You're representing us here. Get a grip."
She holds back a sigh, glancing at the ceiling as she mutters,
"Fine, I'll remember that next time."
Her fingers hover for a moment, feeling the tension that's slowly bubbling to the surface. Another day in the empire. Another hour behind the screen. She adjusts herself, pushing her sleeves up a little higher and sitting up straighter.
The call begins, and once again, she's in control of her part of this world—her mind calculating every word, every move.
INT. VIRTUAL EXECUTIVE MEETING – MORNING
A grid of faces fills the screen—Horizon Holdings' top executives, some seated in the gleaming Antipolo boardroom, others dialing in from remote corners of the world. Dan is one of them, tucked away in her dimly lit home office, hoodie still on, hair half-tamed under bangs.
Axel Real de Lara sits at the head of the conference room table. Composed. Unflinching.
"We're opening a construction wing under Horizon Holdings. The papers are moving. Sixty days."
Silence.
Not a nod. Not a question. The cursor on Dan's screen blinks with quiet expectation.
They never ask how. Just when.
Her fingers tap against her desk. Once. Twice.
Northwell.
Permits, zoning, procurement. Field teams. Ground surveys. Legal bottlenecks. Labor issues. It's a full wing. A full monster.
Caden's voice filters through, low but clear. Ever the buffer.
"We're calling it Northwell. Coastal access, high-volume build zones. It's a calculated push."
Another beat of silence.
Calculated push, my ass. It's a whole operation. And they'll need someone to run it.
Her eyes narrow.
Should I ask?
She glances at her camera feed—hoodie and all.
Do I say it? "Do I at least get a name for the point person, or should I assume it's me?"
Her mouth doesn't move. She stays muted. Unbothered. But inside, the thought is an echo.
You already know it's you, Dan. Everyone in this damn call knows it.
Axel doesn't speak again—just shifts slightly, his cuff catching the light.
Then, finally:
"Assume accordingly."
Axel shifts slightly in his seat, eyes sweeping the screen.
"Northwell isn't just a buildout. It's reach. The U.S. is slowly untangling its ties with Europe—alliances are softening, realignments are coming. We move now, or we watch the tide turn without us."
She exhales through her nose, already switching windows.
Right. No official announcement. Just another storm quietly handed over.
Northwell. Fine.
The meeting rolls on—hollow figures, big numbers, names she'll be expected to memorize by morning. But Dan's already deep into a spreadsheet. Tabs open. Tasks forming.
Guess I'm moving. Again.