Jay's POV
The morning of the board meeting was different. The pain of the past week—the constant questions, the empty seat in Section E, and the confusing messages from Gagonbaliw—didn't disappear, but I locked them behind a wall of pure ice. Today, I wasn't just Jay-jay, the girl who was hurting. Today, I was Jasper Jean Mariano.
I stood before the mirror, my expression hollow and frozen. I had traded my school uniform for a power suit that felt like armor: a black tailored blazer, a black inner, and sharp heels that echoed like a warning against the marble floor. I pulled my hair back into a sleek, tight bun. I didn't look like a student anymore. I looked like the heir to a dynasty.
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I walked into the JJM boardroom with a cold, icy face that stopped every conversation mid-breath.The staff here didn't whisper. They bowed in absolute, terrifying respect. They knew the secret the world didn't: I had built this multi-billion-dollar empire at the age of thirteen, in the middle of my deepest traumas. This was my fortress.
I stepped into my private office, my busy face reflected in the glass. I sat down and opened my laptop, my fingers moving with lethal precision. Alex was already present there with required documents.
I walked into the boardroom with a clinical, lethal pace. The chatter died. A dozen men twice my age sat there, smirking.
I took the head seat, my face a mask of pure frost. "Let's get one thing clear," I began, my voice a low, dangerous hum that cut through the room like a blade. "I am not here to negotiate my right to this seat. I am here to dictate how you will serve it."
"This is a joke," a senior director barked, slamming his pen. "You are too young. You haven't handled a single crisis properly. And frankly, you're a woman. Go back to school, little girl."
I stood up slowly. The silence became suffocating. I leaned over the table, my shadow swallowing him.
"I am too young?" I whispered, my voice a jagged blade. "I survived the collapse of my entire world while you played golf. I didn't 'get' this seat. I earned it through blood and a resilience you couldn't fathom. And being a woman? That makes me ruthless."
I slammed my palm on the mahogany,"This is your first and final warning. You will fall in line, or I will erase you from the industry. Consider yourselves lucky I'm even giving you a choice."
"You think you're tough?" the director sneered, his voice trembling with hidden fear. "We know where your family lives. We know how about your useless friends. Reconsider your tone before something... unfortunate happens to them."
The air turned murderous. I walked around the table until I was inches from his face. I didn't scream. I spoke with the icy quiet of a predator.
"Touch my family," I hissed. "Cross that line, and I won't just fire you. I will dismantle your life until not a single brick is left standing. I will take your wealth, your reputation, and your name until there is nothing left but a ghost. You will find out exactly what happens when the Mariano blood stops being kind and starts being lethal. The consequences will be something your bloodline won't survive"
I scanned the room. Every man there was trembling, their arrogance crushed by the raw, unfiltered power of my threat.The room was paralyzed. They weren't looking at a girl anymore; they were looking at a monster.
"The meeting is adjourned," I said, picking up my files. "Clean up your acts, or I'll do it for you. And I promise, you won't like my root tactics."
I walked out, my heels clicking a steady death march. As I moved through the office, the staff froze. Whispers followed me like ghosts.
"Did you see her face? She looks like a predator."
"I heard she crushed the board. Her tactics... they're ruthless.. She's erasing them."
I ignored the gossip.
I was still sitting in my office at JJM , the silence of the top floor humming with a heavy, electric tension. I had just finished dismantling a board member's career, but the victory felt hollow the moment a global news notification flashed across my screen
"MARK KEIFER WATSON DECLARED SOLE HEIR TO WATSON ENTERPRISES; 18TH BIRTHDAY GIFT UNVEILS GLOBAL ASSETS."
There he was. The lead image showed a professional, sophisticated silhouette I barely recognised—Mark Keifer Watson. He wasn't the "Rude of" of Section E anymore; he was the Heir of the entire Watson Fortune. The report detailed the "gift" he had received upon turning eighteen: the keys to a global empire, a vault of gold and jewels, and the absolute chairmanship of Watson Enterprises.
A surge of pride hit me so hard it stole my breath. That's my Keifer, I thought instinctively. I knew the hell he had walked through to get there, the wounds he carried, and the relatives he had to outmanoeuvre. He had won. He was a King.
But then, the sadness followed, cold and suffocating. My eyes blurred as I stared at his professional face. He broke my heart. He had looked me in the eyes and told me I was just a tool, a piece in his game, before walking away without a backward glance.
The pain of that betrayal was a permanent ache in my chest, a wound that wouldn't close no matter how many suits I wore or how many companies I built.
I still loved him. That was the most pathetic part of all. I was still just a girl who wanted to run into his arms and tell him I was tired. I loved the boy who teased me, the boy who protected me, and even the man who had shattered me into a million pieces. My love was a silent, hopeless devotion that I couldn't kill.
I looked at the "Gagonbaliw" account on my phone. The suspicion that had been clawing at my chest finally solidified. I thought of his hints—M for Mark, N for Watson. I thought of his jealousy. I thought of the timing.
My fingers moved with a sudden, sharp resolve. I wasn't going to be the "clueless" victim anymore. If he was going to haunt me from London, I was going to force him into the light.
. I needed to sting him. I needed to feel like I still had some power over the man who had stolen my peace.
Me: Hoy, Gagonbaliw. Since it's your birthday, I'll be nice. Stop hallucinating that I'll have wet dreams about you. The only thing I'm dreaming about is you finally falling off a cliff so my notifications can rest in peace. 🙄
I held my breath, watching the "Typing..." bubble. My pulse was a frantic drum against my ribs.
Gagonbaliw: A cliff, Queen? How romantic. You want me to fall so you can be the one to catch me?
A jagged, half-sob escaped my throat. Even through a screen, even across an ocean, he had that arrogant, devastating charm. He was playing with me, teasing me as if he hadn't ripped my world apart.
Me: I'd let you hit the ground. Twice. Just to be sure. Now go eat some cake and choke on it (respectfully). 🍰
I hit send and immediately threw the phone onto the desk as if it had burned me. I leaned back in my leather chair, staring at the ceiling, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
"Gago," I whispered into the empty, silent office.
My reaction was a mess. I was smiling—a small, involuntary tug at the corner of my lips—because for a split second, I felt like the old Jay-jay again. But the smile was bittersweet, laced with the poison of his betrayal. I wanted to laugh at his arrogance, but I wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.
He was in London, celebrating a multi-billion dollar inheritance, while I was here, managing my own trauma-built empire, talking to him through a fake identity because he wasn't man enough to tell me the truth to my face.
I looked back at the phone. I knew. I was 99% sure now. M for Mark. N for Watson. The birthday. The "Queen." The possessiveness. It was all him.
The Ice Queen mask I had worn all day in the boardroom began to crack. I didn't want to be a Mariano right now. I didn't want to be the CEO of JJM . I just wanted to ask him: Was I ever really just a tool to you?
I picked up the phone again, my thumb hovering over the keypad. The sadness was winning. My love for him was a heavy, aching weight that no crown could ever offset.
A/n
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