CHAPTER 2.1: THE BEAST

AMARA’S POV:

“Bes, are you really sure about this?” Hershey asked, her voice heavy with concern as she helped me unpack.

I nodded, determined.

“Do you have any idea how toxic that company is based on the rumors I’ve gathered?”

I paused, putting down the white blouse I planned to wear later. My curiosity was piqued. “Toxic? Why? Is it because of the workload?”

“It’s not just the work, Bes. Word is, the CEO fires tech developers almost every single day. I know people who’ve worked there, and they say Laxus Morgan runs the place like a military black-op. One mistake—one line of code that doesn't belong—and you’re out. And the worst part? They get blacklisted. No one in BGC will touch them after they’ve been fired from Nexus.”

I stopped mid-motion, staring at her. “Blacklisted? Why?”

“No one can answer that. All they get told is, ‘The Nexus knows everything.’ Terrifying, right? So be careful, Amara.

A friend told me the CEO’s gaze is so intimidating, it feels like he’s literally reading the data inside your brain.”

I wasn't sure if I should thank Hershey for the warning, but one thing was clear: I couldn't turn back now. I took a deep breath as I began prepping for my trip to NMII.

“I need this, Bes. Others might see me as just a hacker, but I need a legitimate career. If I have to act like a robot just to survive Laxus Morgan, then so be it,” I said before heading into the shower.

Two hours later, I was back in front of the NMII building. I took one last lung-busting breath before stepping inside, clutching the folder containing my future.

You can do this, Amara!

As I crossed the threshold, a pair of men in black suits immediately blocked my path. They wore earpieces and moved with the clinical precision of high-end security.

“ID, Miss?” one of them demanded. I frowned. Do I really look like a minor?

Despite the urge to protest, I handed over my ID to avoid a scene.

“Sorry, Miss. I thought you were still a student,” he apologized, holding open the heavy glass door for me.

The blast of the air conditioning hit me instantly, but it wasn't enough to cool the nerves I was trying so hard to hide. My jaw nearly hit the floor as I took in the lobby.

Everywhere I looked, there were high-definition touch panels and sleek robots scanning IDs. The employees looked like models—fast, efficient, and impeccably dressed. It was worlds away from what I was used to.

How could a place this beautiful be called toxic? These designs and the materials used for the robotics weren't just "standard" for the Philippines—this was global-tier tech.

I was still lost in my amazement when the entire lobby suddenly went silent. Even the janitor, who had been busy buffing the floors, stood perfectly still.

The private executive elevator—a sleek, standalone unit separate from the others—dinged open. A man stepped out, draped in an aura of pure power and danger.

He wore a charcoal-gray suit that screamed luxury. With every step, it felt like the very foundation of NMII was vibrating. But in my rush to reach the other elevator before it closed,

I didn't see him coming.

CRASH!

It felt like I had slammed face-first into a wall made of solid steel.

The impact sent me stumbling back, losing my balance entirely. My folder flew out of my hands, and my resumes scattered across the floor like fallen soldiers.

I quickly scrambled to my knees to gather them. “Linti guid!” I hissed under my breath, cursing in my local dialect as I grabbed the papers. “I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to—”

I expected a hand to help or even a simple apology, but there was only silence. He stayed standing right in front of me. The air grew heavy, suffocating. I could hear the hushed whispers of the employees nearby.

I looked up and was met by a pair of eyes as cold as ice.

A pair of polished black oxfords entered my field of vision. Before I could reach for my last resume, he deliberately stepped on it—right over my name printed in bold letters:

AMARA MARQUEZ.

My blood began to heat up. I grew up poor, but I would never let anyone trample on my dignity. That was the only thing my parents had left me.

I looked him straight in the eye.

“Do you always walk with your head in the clouds, or are you just naturally clumsy?” His voice was a low, melodic baritone laced with pure insult. He looked me up and down as if I were a glitch—a virus in his perfect system.

“My papers fell on the floor. Could you please move your foot off my resume?” I snapped back, my voice steady even though my knees were shaking.

It was insulting, infuriating, and heart-pounding all at once. I wanted to scream, but I forced myself to stay calm. Focus, Amara. Remember why you’re here.

A bitter smirk played on his lips.

He slowly lifted his foot, but before walking away, he made sure to leave a visible muddy mark from his shoe directly over my name.

“This is Nexus Morgan Intel Inc.,” he said, brushing past me. “We don’t hire people who can’t even look where they’re going. Get out.”

I was left kneeling in the middle of the lobby, clutching a muddied resume and a bruised ego. My fists clenched at my side.

Arrogant bastard.

He was handsome, sure, but his attitude was absolute trash. He had no idea which Marquez he just made an enemy of.