Genre:Tech billionaire ,Romance ,
War,Family ,Filipino pride
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> "You don't build empires with money. You build them with blood, memory, and code."
— Elias Cruz, age 25
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Tacloban City, Philippines — July 27, 2025
The air tasted of copper and diesel. Smoke curled through broken windows, and the cries of wounded children echoed between the crumbling walls of Barangay Anibong.
Elias Cruz, ten years old, crouched behind a rusting jeepney, his mother's hand clenched around his. Her other arm was bleeding—shrapnel from the drone strike had grazed her shoulder. Blood soaked through the sleeve of her yellow schoolteacher blouse.
They had been walking home from church when the first missile hit.
Another blast thundered in the distance, rattling the jeepney's thin metal frame. His mother didn't flinch. She pulled him closer.
"Don't look," she whispered.
But he looked.
He saw what war did.
He saw the shattered school building where he learned to code on broken tablets. He saw a child—his classmate Marco—trapped under cement, unmoving. He saw fire climbing up the coconut trees like the breath of hell itself.
A foreign flag waved from the sky—a UEA recon drone blinking red, scanning for survivors… or threats.
They said this was just a "training mission." That no country would attack the Philippines.
But the wars of the future didn't wait for declarations. They just came, silent, digital, and deadly.
That was the day Elias Cruz swore he would never be powerless again.
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Ten Years Later — Manila, Philippines — September 2035
The skyline shimmered with mirrored glass and neon-blue billboards. In the heart of Bonifacio Global City, the Cruzion Tower stood like a blade of light against the night.
Inside, Elias Cruz—now 25—sat alone in his 87th-floor office, wearing a charcoal-gray suit and a storm in his eyes.
He watched the war simulation play out on a massive transparent screen.
Attack Vector: Sino-Russian stealth satellites
Target: Luzon communication grid
Risk Level: Critical
Countermeasure: EMP Shield Protocol: Success
A small green checkmark appeared on the display.
Elias exhaled slowly. "Not tonight."
He tapped the screen off. Silence returned.
Outside his office window, the city danced—drones delivering food, AI taxis humming below, kids taking selfies under digital cherry blossoms.
They had no idea how close they were to falling.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and turned toward his espresso machine. The only sound in the room was the hiss of steam. He had built Cruzion Corp. with fire in his blood and vengeance in his heart.
But peace had a price.
And someone just raised it.
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Incoming Call: "Tita Lorna"
Elias smiled for the first time that day. He accepted the call, and his aunt's face filled the screen. Tita Lorna had practically raised him after his mother passed from a delayed infection caused by shrapnel wounds.
"Anak," she beamed. "Are you eating well? You look thin!"
"I'm always thin, Tita."
"Don't joke. You look like your father when he was stressed. And don't roll your eyes—I can see you."
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm fine. Just… business."
"You're always in business. When will you be in love, hijo?"
He raised a brow. "This again?"
"Don't pretend. You know who's back in Manila."
His heart skipped—then thudded.
"Selene?"
His aunt smirked. "She's doing a report on the rising military tensions. Wants to interview you."
"Did she say that?"
"She didn't have to."
---
Selene Navarro
She walked like the world was watching—but didn't care if it was. Combat boots, black jeans, and a press badge that could get her killed in six countries. She was fearless. Beautiful. Brilliant. Dangerous to his peace of mind.
They had grown up on the same street in Tacloban. Shared food. Shared secrets. Shared grief when the war came.
But she left. Became a war journalist. Never looked back.
Now, after ten years, she was returning to the city he had rebuilt from the ground up.
And Elias didn't know if he wanted to run toward her—or away.
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Cruzion Lobby — The Next Day
She arrived in a storm of camera drones and curious onlookers.
Selene stepped into the marble lobby with a calm that only war survivors possessed. Her brown eyes scanned the space until they locked with Elias's.
Time slowed.
He wore a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled, his jawline sharper than she remembered. But the fire in his eyes was the same.
"Miss Navarro," he greeted, voice low. "It's been a while."
"Mr. Cruz." Her lips curved into a half-smile. "Nice tower. Trying to compensate for something?"
He grinned. "Still allergic to compliments, I see."
"Still charming in a punchable way."
They shook hands—but held it just a second too long.
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Interview Room — 43rd Floor
The room was glass, sleek, and full of tension.
Her recorder was on.
"So, Mr. Cruz," Selene began, "how does it feel being Southeast Asia's youngest tech billionaire while two global superpowers circle your country like vultures?"
Elias leaned back, voice smooth. "I feel like the Philippines finally has a knife sharp enough to cut its own chains."
"You sound like a revolutionary."
"I sound like a businessman."
"With a private AI army."
"With a public mission: keep my country free."
Selene's eyes softened, just slightly. "Why do you care so much? You could've left. Taken your company to Singapore. Or Silicon Valley."
He looked at her, the weight of his past flickering across his face.
"Because I buried my mother in this soil. Because I don't want any other child to see what I saw. That's why."
Silence stretched between them—thick, intimate, full of unsaid things.
She turned off the recorder.
"Why didn't you call me back?" she asked quietly.
He blinked.
"You called?"
"Twice. In 2028. From a hotel in Berlin. After Aleppo."
His throat tightened. "I never got them."
Her lips trembled. "Liar."
"I swear."
"Would you have come?"
He hesitated. "Yes."
She stared at him for a long beat.
"Too late now."
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That Night — Elias's Penthouse
He stood at his balcony, wind tugging at his shirt.
Below, the city pulsed with life.
Behind him, a single message lit up on his secure terminal.
> Classified Briefing:
"UEA naval fleet rerouting toward West Philippine Sea. Possible confrontation within 48 hours. Prepare cyber protocols."
— Admiral Benitez, Philippine Defense Command
Elias's jaw tightened.
This wasn't just code anymore.
This was war.
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Chapter Ends with Flashback
Ten-year-old Elias, kneeling in the rubble, whispering to his mother:
> "Someday, I'll build something to stop them. Someday, I'll fight back."
Her bloodied fingers touched his cheek.
> "Then don't just build weapons, anak... Build something beautiful too. For her. For all of them."