All Chapters of Echelon: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

"Are you okay?"Andrew's voice broke the silence, low but steady. Carrie froze, her hand still gripping the edge of the washroom door. For a flicker of a second she thought she saw something in his eyes, concern, soft, almost human. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Or maybe it had never been there at all. Maybe she had conjured it, the way she had conjured every dangerous thought tonight.Her spine stiffened. She decided on the safer truth: she had imagined it.She straightened her skirt, squared her shoulders, and dragged composure over herself like ill-fitting armor. She forced her body to move as though nothing had happened, as though she had not been writhing in his lap, begging for him. He was nothing to her. Just another man. Just another meaningless encounter. That was the story she would tell herself, over and over, until it became real.Without giving him the chance to speak again, she strode toward the door. Her heels clicked sharp and uneven against the polished

Carrie remembered the first time she saw Andrew Lorenzo.She was nineteen, a journalism student at Miriam College, the kind of student professors singled out for her sharp mind and drive. Among her peers, she was respected, even admired. She was popular in her own right, not the loudest in the room, but the one people noticed for her quiet confidence and her beauty that was anything but ordinary. Simple, yes, but unforgettable all the same.Sometimes her classmates teased her for the way she carried herself, poised, composed, self-assured in a world where everyone was trying too hard to stand out. Carrie didn’t need theatrics. She listened more than she spoke, asked questions others didn’t think to form, and wrote like the world was meant to be captured and understood.It was late afternoon, one of those heavy Manila days when the air clung to the skin. She and her friends had ducked into a fast-food chain along Katipunan Avenue, a place always teeming with Miriam and Ateneo students.

Carrie had expected pizza and Netflix.When Gracie invited her over that Friday night, she imagined the usual routine. Their small circle curled up on the couch in pajamas, swapping stories about professors and ex-boyfriends while Damien acted out their week with the flair of a one-man drama club. A safe, silly escape from the grind of school.Instead, the moment she stepped into Gracie's three-bedroom apartment near Miriam, Carrie froze.The place was packed.Music throbbed from speakers jammed into corners. The air reeked of alcohol and perfume. Laughter spilled out of every room. Half the Ateneo Blue Eagles seemed to be there, filling the living room with their long limbs and booming voices. A few Miriam girls hovered near them, tossing their hair like they were auditioning for commercials. In the kitchen, bottles of vodka, gin, and tequila lined the counter like trophies.Gracie appeared, glowing with excitement, and rushed forward to hug her. "Surprise! Isn't this fun?""Fun?" Ca

By Monday morning, the memories of rooftops and angel-faced boys were shoved into the back of Carrie's mind. Reality pressed harder, louder, heavier.Anita Sandoval was still a ghost. Every call unanswered. Every email ignored. Her PR team a fortress of polite rejection. And the deadline for the cover story was so close Carrie could practically hear it tapping on her window like a stalker.She sat at the head of the long glass conference table, pen tapping against her notepad as her team trickled in. Sofia slipped in quietly with her folders stacked to her chin. Joan arrived ten minutes late in sunglasses so large she looked like she was hiding from Interpol. And Damien? Damien entered like he was auditioning for "America's Next Top Model.""Good morning, darlings!" he declared, silk scarf tossed over his shoulder in slow motion. "Or should I say... tragic morning, since we are coverless and cursed."Carrie rubbed her temples. "Damien, not today."He plopped into his seat, unbothered.

Carrie returned to the office that afternoon with something she hadn't carried in weeks: victory. The glass doors of Echelon slid open, and even the fluorescent lights seemed less harsh. She clutched her bag tighter, eager to deliver the news.Her heels clicked against the polished floor, clean, rhythmic, purposeful. The office buzzed with activity: keyboards clacking, phones ringing, interns sprinting like scared hamsters. For the first time in days, she wasn’t weighed down by anxiety or doubt. Her shoulders were lighter, her steps firmer, her pulse steady instead of frantic. The world felt like it was finally cooperating.Sofia was the first to notice. She popped up from her desk, eyes wide. "Ma'am...? Did it go well?"Carrie allowed herself a rare smile. "She'll do it."Sofia gasped, pressing her hands together like she had just witnessed a miracle. "Anita Sandoval?""Yes. Confirmed. Angela, her assistant, will set the schedule. It's happening this week."Sofia’s jaw dropped. She l