In a city where glass towers pierced the sky and power moved in silence—
The name White was not spoken lightly.
It was built into infrastructure.
Woven into communication lines.
Embedded in signals that crossed oceans without being seen.
White Global Communications.
A conglomerate that didn't just connect people—
It controlled the way the world spoke.
And at the center of it—
Was a girl who was never meant to be ordinary.
Maureen White.
Seventeen.
Heir.
Prodigy.
Problem.
"Miss White, the Tokyo board is waiting."
Maureen didn't look up from the tablet in her hand. "They've been waiting for ten minutes. They can survive another two."
Her voice was calm.
Soft.
But final.
Aida, standing just behind her, allowed herself the smallest smile.
"You enjoy making powerful men uncomfortable," she said.
Maureen tapped something on the screen, eyes sharp, mind faster than most people in the room—despite not being in the room at all.
"I enjoy reminding them they're not as powerful as they think."
She stood.
Graceful. Effortless.
Like she had been trained to occupy space without asking permission.
Which—she had.
The boardroom doors opened.
Silence followed her in.
Men twice her age shifted subtly in their seats—not out of disrespect, but out of instinct.
Because Maureen White didn't demand authority.
She was authority.
"Let's begin," she said, taking her seat at the head of the table.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Numbers were presented.
Forecasts debated.
Strategies questioned.
Maureen listened more than she spoke.
But when she did—
It ended conversations.
"Your projection assumes stability," she said at one point, her tone mild. "That's your first mistake."
The executive faltered. "Miss White, with all due respect—"
"Respect is irrelevant," she replied, meeting his gaze. "Accuracy is not."
Silence.
Aida watched from the side, as always.
Observing.
Learning.
Protecting.
Because behind Maureen's brilliance—
Was pressure.
Relentless.
Unforgiving.
And Aida had seen the moments no one else had.
The ones where Maureen's shoulders dropped—just slightly—when no one was looking.
The ones where she stared at her own reflection like she was searching for something beyond perfection.
—
After the meeting, Maureen walked ahead, heels clicking softly against marble floors.
Aida followed.
"You were gentle today," Aida noted.
Maureen exhaled lightly. "I was bored today."
"That's more concerning."
"It should be."
They stepped into a private lounge overlooking the city.
Lights stretched endlessly below them.
Controlled.
Predictable.
Unlike the thought currently occupying Maureen's mind.
"I'm leaving," she said.
Aida didn't react immediately.
Then—
"Where?"
"Philippines."
Aida blinked. "That's… specific."
Maureen set her tablet down.
"There's something there."
"What kind of something?"
Maureen hesitated.
For once.
"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "But it feels… important."
Aida studied her.
"You're not talking about business."
"No."
"Then this is a bad idea."
Maureen smiled faintly. "All my best ideas start that way."
Aida sighed. "What are you looking for?"
Maureen glanced at the design sketches on her tablet—clean lines, modern silhouettes…
But something missing.
"Roots," she said softly.
Aida raised a brow.
Maureen met her gaze.
"I want to build something real," she continued. "Not just… powerful. Something that connects. Something that remembers where it came from."
Aida crossed her arms. "And you think you'll find that in the Philippines?"
Maureen's fingers brushed lightly beneath her ear—
Over the faint red mark.
"I think I'll find something," she said.
And for the first time in a long while—
She looked uncertain.
—
Later that night, in a quieter part of the city—
A man watched a screen.
Surveillance footage.
Schedules.
Movement patterns.
At the center of it all—
Maureen White.
He leaned back slowly, fingers steepled.
"So," he murmured, almost amused, "the princess leaves the castle."
Behind him, another voice spoke. "Is it wise to proceed?"
The man smiled faintly.
"Wisdom is irrelevant," he said. "Opportunity is not."
He tapped the screen.
Maureen's image froze.
Bright.
Alive.
Unaware.
"Prepare everything."
A pause.
Then, colder—
"She doesn't come back."