(From here on out I will skip some chapter but I will always tell you guys
Time skips to where Keifer left Philippines
Jay-Jay forgave Ci-n *I couldn't let Ci-n suffer* )
JayJay POV
It was Saturday.
Finally.
No alarms. No meetings. No drama. Just me, my blanket, and the most glorious dream ever:
I was floating through a golden field of waffles. Syrup waterfalls sparkled in the sun. A croissant the size of a beanbag chair rolled past me, buttery and warm. I reached out—yes, yes, come to me, my flaky king—
RIIIIING.
My phone exploded like a fire drill in a bakery.
I flailed, smacked my nightstand, knocked over a water bottle, cursed the universe, and finally grabbed the phone.
9:30 a.m.
Who the hell calls before ten?
I squinted at the screen.
Froze.
The name made my stomach twist like bad sushi.
Kuya Angelo.
I didn't know if I should answer.
I did.
"Hello, Jay," he said, way too chipper for someone who just murdered my pastry dreamscape.
"Hi," I croaked, still half in croissant-land.
"Uhh... the Hamamtiches want to talk to you."
"Why?"
"Because... Yuri is your fiancé?" he said, like it was a question. Like he wasn't sure if saying it would trigger a nuclear meltdown.
I blinked. "Tell them I'm not interested."
"Jay, please. The company's about to fall down."
I stared at the ceiling.
My waffles were gone.
My croissant had crumbled.
And now I was being summoned to a meeting with my maybe-fiancé and a collapsing empire.
I didn't say yes.
I didn't say no.
But I was already out of bed, hair a mess, heart pounding, stomach growling.
And someone better have pancakes at that meeting.
I stomped downstairs like a sleep-deprived gremlin.
"Kuya Jare!" I yelled.
Luna looked up from her cereal. "OMG, I'm seeing a miracle. Did Jay wake up without someone pouring water on her?"
"What you did yesterday was not funny," I snapped.
They all burst out laughing.
Kuya Percy emerged from his room, half-asleep and already smirking.
I marched over and started fake-crying like a soap opera villain.
"Kuya Percy, look! They're laughing at me!"
He tried to keep a straight face. Failed miserably.
"Oh my beautiful Sistah," he said, voice trembling with suppressed laughter. "Who made you cry?"
"You're all traitors," I muttered, wiping fake tears with dramatic flair.
"Anyway, I'm hungry. Feed me."
"When are you not hungry?" Kuya Jare asked.
"Never," I shot back.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After inhaling breakfast like a gremlin with a vendetta, I stormed back upstairs.
The meeting was looming.
Yuri. The Hamamtiches. Corporate doom.
And me?
I needed armor.
I flung open my closet like I was summoning a portal to war.
No suits.
No soft pastels.
No "I'm here to cooperate" energy.
I wanted bold.
I wanted dangerous.
I wanted don't even think about underestimating me.
After twenty minutes of chaos — clothes flying, shoes rejected, earrings judged — I found it.
Black leather pants.
A blood-red top with sleeves sharp enough to slice egos.
Boots that made me two inches taller and ten times scarier.
Hair: up. Messy but intentional.
Lipgloss: lethal.
Eyeliner: criminal.
I looked in the mirror and smirked.
Perfect.
Not too formal.
Not too much.
Just enough to say: I'm about to do something bad and I'm going to look amazing doing it.
I grabbed my bag, phone, and the last shred of patience I had left.
Time to face the Hamamtiches.
Time to face Yuri.
Time to remind everyone exactly who they were dealing with.
Jasper Jean Mariano
Unbothered. Unforgiving. Unstoppable.
I went downstairs
Kuya Jare was the first to spot me.
"Where the hell are you going dressed like that?" he asked, eyes wide.
I told him everything.
He got mad.
"The fuck, Jay? You're not going there."
"Yuri? Seriously, sis?" Kuya Percy chimed in. "You couldn't find anyone other than a red rooster?"
"Excuse me," I said, flipping my hair. "Do I look like I'm about to marry a rooster?"
They stared.
I rolled my eyes.
"Here's the plan," I said, pointing at Percy. "I go to the Hamamtiches and cancel the engagement. You make a deal with the Fernandezes. And after that?"
I smiled.
"I play my game."
Btw, since I'm a Mariano, I have a say in the company. We get a monthly cut — about $400,000. And when Kuya Jare and I turn 18, we're supposed to take over the Mariano empire.
But for now?
Kuya Percy's holding the throne.
And I'm about to shake the board.
Jare stepped forward. "You don't get to make decisions like this alone."
I turned slowly, boots clicking like a countdown.
"Actually," I said, "I do."
They stared.
I didn't blink.
"Btw," I added, casually dramatic, "since I'm a Mariano, I have a say in the company. We get $400,000 a month — yes, a month — and when Kuya Jare and I turn eighteen, we're supposed to take over the empire."
Percy crossed his arms. "Until then, I'm in charge."
"And I'm not challenging that," I said. "I'm just reminding you that I'm not some pawn in a corporate engagement fantasy."
Jare looked like he wanted to argue.
Percy looked like he wanted popcorn.
I grabbed my bag.
"I'm not marrying a rooster," I said, heading for the door. "I'm ending this. And if the Hamamtiches don't like it?"
I smiled.
"They can choke on their contracts."
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