Chapter One

The Echelon Philippines office pulsed with its usual frenzy. Phones rang, keyboards clattered, assistants wove between desks with folders clutched like lifelines. To outsiders it might have seemed overwhelming, but to Sofia Reyes it was music.

At twenty-three, she still carried herself carefully, shoulders tucked in, voice soft. The farmer’s daughter from Nueva Ecija had made it all the way to Makati, and she was determined not to squander her place in this glass tower of power and polish.

“Sofia.”

Her head lifted at once. Carrie Tuazon stood across the bullpen, leather bag still looped on her arm, her tailored suit catching the fluorescent light. Her tone was as firm as ever, but her eyes softened when they landed on Sofia.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Sofia answered quickly.

Carrie crossed over, pausing by her desk. “Good work on the Jacinto feature. It was clean. Professional.”

Sofia’s lips curved into a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

It had not been her byline. That belonged to senior editors. But she had managed the back-and-forth with Tristan Jacinto’s team, polishing his email responses until they were sharp enough for print. At thirty-two, he was already Forbes’ “Entrepreneur of the Year,” a Jacinto heir building his own tech empire apart from his family’s telecom fortune. Sofia had stayed late many nights to make sure every word was perfect, terrified one wrong edit might ruin it.

Carrie gave a slight nod before moving on, but the moment lingered with Sofia. Months earlier, she would never have imagined her editor-in-chief addressing her with anything but clipped orders. But something had shifted since the Anita Sandoval fiasco.

Anita had been scheduled as the cover star of their Power Women Redefined issue. Then, on a Monday morning, she disappeared. Calls went unanswered. Staff gave evasions. PR stonewalled. For days Carrie fired calls, left voicemails, ordered the staff to chase every lead. By end of the week, the office felt brittle, every conversation hushed.

It was Sofia who had offered a fragile thread. Anita’s stylist, someone she remembered from her intern days. A single number, nothing more. But it was enough.

That following week, Anita’s assistant finally called Carrie back. By end of that week, Anita was in front of the camera, tired eyes, flawless makeup, laughter louder than her heartbreak. The cover was saved, and when the issue hit stands the following week, no one outside Echelon ever knew how close they had come to disaster.

Everyone credited Carrie. Of course they did. It was her persistence, her reputation, her persuasion that sealed it. But Sofia knew her call had set the chain in motion. Carrie never said thank you. Not outright. But one morning, a black coffee appeared on Sofia’s desk, the way she drank it. From then on, when Carrie called her name, there was recognition. A sliver of respect. Sometimes, even a flicker of warmth.

Now, months later, the office hummed with gossip about Carrie’s engagement to Andrew Lorenzo, heir to the country’s most powerful dynasty of malls, towers, and oil. Carrie ignored the chatter, wearing her diamond ring with a kind of defiance. Still, Sofia noticed the way her fingers lingered on the band when she thought no one was looking, her expression softening.

Sofia turned back to her computer. Her inbox chimed with a new message, and her pulse jumped. A confirmation from the Lorenzo family’s communications office. She had been assigned to manage a short lifestyle Q&A with Andrew himself.

Her fingers hovered over the keys before she began to type her reply, careful and deliberate. Around her, the office spun on, layouts scattered across tables, deadlines whispered in corners.

It was just another busy day at Echelon Philippines.

And yet, Sofia Reyes was already standing at the edge of a storm that would change everything.