Chapter 2

• "You are going to leave?" my friend Nexus said in shock when I announced my plan to resign. His voice carried that familiar mixture of disbelief and worry, as if the very idea unsettled the ground he was standing on. I could tell he had been expecting a simple update about the site, not a life-altering decision from me. For a moment, I wondered how many times I had surprised him in the years we knew each other, and yet his reactions never changed—they always felt genuine. It almost made my chest tighten, knowing that leaving meant losing these small, steady constants.
• He's an architect like myself, and we both work for the same company. We are currently working on site to repair the landscaping; this was my final assignment for the organization to which we both belong. The afternoon sun settled warmly across the site, casting gold on the workers and tools scattered around us. I had always liked moments like this—busy, grounded, productive—where no one looked at me with judging eyes. The earthy smell of the soil, the sound of workers coordinating, the mundane but comforting environment… it made the idea of leaving even heavier in my hands.
• I softly nodded in agreement as I examined each design that the team we hired was working on. The sketches were clean and simple, something I always leaned toward when stressed. As I looked at them, I tried to memorize the feeling of being here—the sense of autonomy, of creating something with intention rather than fear. A part of me wondered if I was trading this for something far more suffocating, but opportunities rarely appeared twice in my life. I swallowed that thought and kept my voice steady.
• He asked inquisitively, "Why? Where are you going all of a sudden?" His brows were pinched together, and he leaned closer, almost as if distance would prevent misunderstandings. Nexus had always been the type to worry before he judged, which made him one of the very few people I trusted. His tone wasn’t accusatory but a little scared, like he sensed there was more beneath the surface than a simple move. And he was right—there always was.
• I paused what I was doing to look, then spoke to him politely. "In our company. Mommy requested me to go some errands," I replied. Even saying the word “Mommy” out loud felt strange, like using a title that never truly belonged to me. I saw confusion flicker across Nexus’s eyes, and I understood why—this wasn’t something I ever said. I never mentioned being summoned, only criticized or avoided. The sudden shift in my family’s behavior was enough to shake even me.
• His slender eyes grew with time. "Did I hear it right?" His voice went a little higher, and it almost made me laugh because he resembled someone reacting to a scandal. Nexus had never once heard me say I would work directly with my family; the idea itself was absurd. Even I could feel how bizarre it sounded. For a moment, it was comforting that he reacted this way because it reminded me I wasn’t imagining things.
• I couldn't help but find his response amusing. When Mommy dropped the bomb yesterday, he made me think of myself. It felt like my brain had glitched when I first heard her instructions, and seeing Nexus mirror that disbelief grounded me in reality. If someone else also found it impossible, then it meant the situation was truly out of character. I wondered if Mommy had finally decided to use me for something bigger—or set me up to fall harder.
• "Yeah. Even I can't believe it." I stared in disbelief at the employees. "I need to secure a deal with Mr. Revelar." I could still hear Mommy’s voice echoing in my head, commanding and cold. The responsibility she gave wasn’t small; it was massive, almost unreal. I’d never been entrusted with anything related to the business, yet now I held something that could affect an entire company. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.
• I felt Nexus shift from his place. "You mean Agustine Bhryll?" he asked, catching my interest. His reaction was sharp, almost alarmed, as if the name itself carried weight he assumed I already knew. I could sense something change in his demeanor—like the conversation suddenly gained gravity. It was the first time I saw Nexus genuinely tense over a business figure.
• I gave him a frown. "You know him?" The question left my mouth before I had time to stop it. Honestly, I expected at least some explanation before he reacted like that. I thought maybe Mr. Revelar was just a wealthy man with investments, nothing out of the ordinary. But Nexus’s expression suggested something else entirely—someone on a much higher level.
• His lips separated. He took some time to respond and gave me the impression that my question was absurd. He blinked a few times, as if absorbing the fact that I might truly be unaware of who I was dealing with. That hesitation alone made me feel a little naïve. It wasn’t my fault, though—I was dropped into this with no warning, no preparation, nothing to stand on except instinct.
• He snarled, "Jeez! Khrystal, he's a magnate tycoon! A billionaire for Pete's sake!" The disbelief in his tone almost made me shrink. Nexus rarely displayed that kind of exaggerated reaction unless something was truly staggering. His voice echoed across the site, drawing a few glances we both ignored. His reaction alone painted a clearer picture: this man was far from ordinary.
• "He's that famous? I thought he was just an investor," I muttered. My voice betrayed a little embarrassment, because apparently, I had grossly underestimated the importance of the person I was supposed to charm—no, not charm—secure a deal with. The idea of working with someone that influential made my hands feel suddenly cold. For a moment, doubt flickered into my stomach like a stone being dropped into water.
• His mouth fell open even more. It led me to come to a realization in some way. I was unable to conduct a background check on the target person since I was under too much time constraint to finish the project proposal. Nexus’s reaction only proved how blindly I had walked into this assignment. It was reckless on my part, but also telling that my family didn’t even offer basic information. That alone felt like a warning.
• Wrong move, Khrystal. It should be balanced. I mentally slapped myself for letting the urgency overshadow the essentials. As an architect, I organized, checked, planned—yet here I was leaping into something blindfolded. Something about this situation felt wrong, like I was being moved as a pawn rather than a daughter. The unease at the pit of my stomach grew heavier.
• "Something's strange."
• The moment Nexus became serious, I returned my focus to him. His brows furrowed deeply, and his tone dropped to something far more thoughtful. There were moments when Nexus—despite being playful—could analyze things sharply. And right now, he wasn’t seeing this as a business assignment but as a red flag.
• "Why did your mother choose you to handle the transaction," he continued. "Mr. Revelar is a big fish, Khrystal. He's always been so precise when it comes to business." His words settled heavy on my shoulders. Nexus wasn’t trying to insult me; he was pointing out something unusual. It was true—Mommy never allowed me near the company. And now suddenly she wanted me to face a billionaire? It didn’t make sense.
• I gave him a sneer and raised my left eyebrow artistically. "Am I a joke to you, Nexus?" I spoke. "You don't seem to trust me, huh?" I tried to lighten the atmosphere with sarcasm, but deep down, I knew he wasn’t doubting my capability. He was doubting the intention behind the assignment. Still, the sting lingered—it’s hard to hear concerns that echo your own fears.
• He shook his head right away. "That's not what I want to emphasize, Khrystal. Just consider that you previously informed me that your mother doesn't permit you to interfere with or approach your family business. What's with the sudden change? And honestly, in an important person. Yes, you can handle a transaction, but this is a different topic. It's a huge project." His words cut sharper than a reprimand. He wasn’t criticizing; he was worried. And the fact that Nexus acknowledged my strength while pointing out the danger made my heart tighten.
• As he spoke, I remained silent before slowly starting to think. His observations weren’t wrong. They weren’t even exaggerated. If anything, he was being kind by not saying more. I looked down, watching dust cling to my shoes, as if the ground itself was waiting for my decision. His concern made everything feel too real too fast.
• Nexus is right. Even if I wanted to deny it, there was no logical explanation behind Mommy’s sudden trust. It felt like being handed a beautifully wrapped gift only to find a trap inside. My head swirled with questions that had no answers. The silence between us stretched, heavy but honest.
• Why did they assign me to look after Mr. Revelar since he's such a big person? No matter how many times I repeated the question, it didn’t offer clarity. If anything, each repetition deepened the suspicion. Mommy Francheska didn’t do kindness. She did convenience—whatever benefitted her the most. And surely, giving me a big project did not benefit her.
• Last night, I didn't give it much thought because I was more concerned with planning and carrying out the project. Since I am new to it, I am interested in learning how to handle situations involving our family business. I wish to avoid making mistakes. That desire—to prove myself, even to people who never saw me—it clouded everything else. I had been too eager to leave home to question why the door was finally opening.
• I assumed Mommy might have taken me since Mr. Revelar is a boy. He might be a womanizer or something. The way Mommy Francheska told me to seduce that man made me think it's the reason why she picked me. Her intention was clear—use me as bait, as leverage. That thought alone made my stomach churn, because being used was something I grew accustomed to, but being used at a corporate level felt far more humiliating.
• I bit my bottom lip as I had an unfavorable notion. The idea hit me like a slap—maybe this wasn’t about trusting me but ruining me. Something she could hold against me for years. Something she could use to justify keeping me beneath them. And that possibility felt so real it scared me.
• "Maybe... she wants me to fail miserably," I muttered. The words tasted bitter, like something I shouldn’t admit but always feared. Failure would be the perfect tool for her—she could send me away with shame instead of freedom. It hurt more because it sounded like something she could easily do.
• "Khrystal," Nexus called me with a tone that blended consolation and disapproval. His voice softened, grounding me before my thoughts spiraled too far. I knew he hated when I talked like that about myself, but he also couldn’t deny how my family treated me. The pity in his gaze wasn’t demeaning; it was genuine empathy.
• I mustered a grin as I raised my gaze, and stifled a giggle. "It's okay. I know they don't like me. Well, who's going to be relieved if you see your husband's daughter to another woman every day." The truth slipped through my humor like a knife wrapped in silk. Stating facts so casually was my coping mechanism, and Nexus knew that. My grin felt weak, but at least it was something.
• Nexus heaved a deep sigh and slightly patted my head. "You can do it," he said, talking about the deal. His reassurance wrapped around me like a thin blanket—warm, but not enough to shield me from the cold reality. Still, it meant something that he believed in me more than my own family ever had. That belief was enough to spark the smallest ember of courage.
• I made a fake smile. Can I really make it? Doubt gnawed at me, tearing quietly at the edges of my determination. I always managed to survive things thrown at me, but succeeding was a different battlefield. My hands tightened around my clipboard, grounding myself as best as I could.
• Then the thought of living alone in America flashed through my mind. That image washed over me like a breath of clean air. Freedom. Independence. A life where I didn’t have to walk on splinters or tiptoe around insults. Maybe this wasn’t just a task—it was my exit. My chance.
• I should make it happen, no matter what. Even if the assignment was a trap, even if the motives were tainted, the result could still be my salvation. My heart pounded with something fierce, something stubborn. I refused to let my family dictate the entirety of my life.
• I was about to smile and thank him when I noticed the girls conversing not far from us. I could tell what they're talking about just by the way they look at me. They had contempt and disgust in their eyes. Their whispers sliced through the air like blades wrapped in sweetness. It was the same old song—judgment, assumptions, false stories. Their stares crawled across my skin like insects.
• Of course, it will always be, Khrystal-the-flirtiest-girl-in-town. The title they had given me since high school—a curse I never asked for. They always needed a villain to unite against, and I was the easiest target. My existence alone was enough reason for them to twist whatever story made them feel righteous.
• "People these days have a lot of spare time. Hopefully all," said Nexus when he must have noticed what I saw. He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expressive nature making it almost comedic. Sometimes his humor softened the weight of the situation. I appreciated him more than he knew.
• I just smiled and shook my head. “Ignore them,” I whispered to myself as much as to him. It wasn’t worth pouring energy into people who thrived on others’ misery. I learned that the hard way.
• "You're still affected?" he asked, referring to the people I was talking about. His tone was gentle, careful not to pry too deeply. He knew how resilient I acted, but also how human I truly was beneath the surface. His question wasn’t mocking—it was concerned.
• "No. I'm used to it, it's not new to me." I chuckled. My laugh held a heaviness I didn’t bother hiding. With every year that passed, the sting faded, and numbness replaced it. Their judgments didn’t define me anymore, but they were constant reminders of the life I wanted to escape.
• I do mean that. Since I was still little, I was the center of attention. Given that all of my buddies were boys, they treated me even worse when I grew older. They are disgusted with me because of this. It was as if I flirted with my male friends—including Nexus. The ridiculousness of their assumptions always frustrated me. They chose gossip over logic, cruelty over understanding.
• "Harry was whining to me earlier that you were ignoring him," Nexus jumped in accusingly as if I had done it because I didn't want the two of us to converse. His tone held a hint of mischief, but the underlying message was serious. Harry didn’t know boundaries when it came to friendliness. Nexus probably noticed the tension I tried to avoid.
• I rolled my eyes. "He's my sister's boyfriend," I explained. "I just don't want a trouble on my sister's part, that's a different matter," I added then addressed him properly. "By the way, I'll go first." I slung my bag over my shoulder, ready to detach myself from the site and the heavy atmosphere it carried. A break would help me clear my mind, even if only briefly.
• "I'm going to buy some stuff. I might not be able to buy in the next few days, so I'll do it now," I answered. Shopping might not heal everything, but it certainly helped me breathe. Preparing for the project required not just mental readiness but appearance as well. I needed to look the part of someone my mother could parade—or weaponize.
• Nexus gave a nod. “You go first, then I'll take care of this." His dedication to the project was always admirable. It comforted me to know someone competent was staying behind to supervise. I knew he had my back even when I wasn’t present.
• I smiled and said, "Thank you." The gratitude came from somewhere deep, deeper than work-related appreciation. Nexus had always been my quiet support system, my calm in storms I never chose to sail through.
• He patted my head and motioned for me to go, like he had earlier. I carried out his request. His simple gestures—gentle, familiar—gave me the strength to move forward. I treasured those moments more than I ever admitted.