As the week flew by, Dan recalled the first time she got interviewed for Horizon Holdings. It will be this coming week, a year ago, I met Caden for the first time. Young, eager, and honest. The business was rough around the edges, but something about it felt...right. Maybe it was the chance to start again. Maybe it was survival. It has been this week that Axel has not called a single time after the Friday bomb drop-off. It's a miracle, really.
That weekend, Dan worked up the house chores, looking into her finances she has finally drew black on her debts. No longer in the red, she sighed a breath of relief. Thanking the higher being for everything she had for the past year.
Because, it is also this coming week last year, when the client call for Horizon Holdings came spiraling down in her fate.
- - - -
Danielle triple-checked her internet connection, half-hoping her Wi-Fi wouldn't cut out and save her from the anxiety pulsing through her chest. It was 1:55 a.m. in the Philippines. Her daughter, Ellenore, was already asleep, and the faint hum of the electric fan echoed in the background. She was running on instant coffee, stress, and desperation. The job interview was in five minutes, and she had no idea who was going to be on the other end of the call.
When the Zoom screen flickered to life, Danielle nearly spat out her coffee. The man in front of her didn't look like a hiring manager. He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover—sharp jawline, collar unbuttoned just enough, hair tousled like he hadn't even tried.
She didn't expect him.
"Danielle Reyes?" he said, his British-Spanish accent coating her name like velvet.
Not what I expected at all.
She had spent the entire night rehearsing her elevator pitch in front of a cracked mirror, wearing a blazer over a borrowed blouse and pajama shorts. The job post was vague—just another remote operations gig for a family-owned eCommerce startup in Spain. She expected someone corporate, maybe stiff, someone like Caden or Em. Not him.
"Yes," she answered quickly, trying to sit straighter. "Good morning—uh, evening. I mean... hi."
"I'm Axel Fitz-James Real de Lara," he said smoothly. "Co-founder. I'm handling today's interview personally."
Personally? Aren't co-founders usually too busy to screen applicants?
"Right," she managed, voice steady despite the pounding in her chest.
"How do you want me to address you?"
"Axel, well, we'll follow how Americans operate."
He didn't smile. Instead, he leaned back in his leather chair—real leather, she could tell even through the screen—and gave her the kind of look that stripped people down to the bone.
"I've read your résumé," he said, fingers steepled. "You worked in construction project management. So why eCommerce?"
Danielle exhaled slowly. She expected this. What she didn't expect was how cold his eyes looked despite the warmth of his voice.
"Because project management and e-commerce operate like reflections on mirrors" she began. "Both require tight integration across complex supply chains, vendor management, and logistical frameworks. In construction, I managed end-to-end delivery of high-value materials with zero tolerance for delays or defects. Here, I see eCommerce as an orchestrated system of procurement, inventory forecasting, last-mile delivery, and customer experience optimization. Precisely the same, the degree of accuracy and extent of structure. "
She paused briefly, watching his face for reaction.
"Take demand forecasting algorithms, for example," she continued. "In eCommerce, overestimating stock levels inflates carrying costs, while underestimating leads to stockouts and lost revenue. I've designed buffer stock models in construction that minimize capital lockup but guarantee materials arrive just-in-time. I'd apply the same rigor here to inventory KPIs using probabilistic models and dynamic reorder points."
His brow twitched slightly—she'd hit a nerve.
"Interesting answer," Axel said after a pause. "Do you always sound like you're trying to take over a company?"
Danielle blinked, unsure whether to laugh or apologize.
"I just sound like someone who doesn't want to be broke," she said instead.
That made him raise an eyebrow. Just a little.
There it was—that flicker of authority and defiance I couldn't ignore.
He flipped through a few documents she couldn't see, then asked, "You're not applying through an agency. That's rare."
She nodded. "I prefer direct communication. No middlemen. Fewer opportunities for miscommunication."
"Or fewer people watching over your shoulder?"
She bristled. "Or fewer people getting in the way of results."
He leaned in again. "You're confident."
She met his gaze squarely. "I am direct."
"You're the one who applied without a cover letter."
Danielle blinked. "Yes... I figured the résumé said enough."
He smirked. "Or maybe you just didn't have the time?"
She refused to flinch. "I didn't want to waste either of ours."
"Touché."
That was the moment. He looked amused—like she had passed a test she didn't know she was taking.
He shifted gears, fingers tapping the desk lightly. "Tell me about your experience with ERP systems and data integration. How do you handle cross-functional process automation?"
Danielle nodded. "I've implemented ERP modules that bridge procurement, warehousing, and logistics—specifically customizing workflows to reduce manual data entry errors and improve real-time visibility. I'm proficient with SAP and Oracle NetSuite integrations, but I'm also hands-on with APIs and middleware tools like MuleSoft to automate data sync between platforms."
She added, "One project I led involved automating supplier invoice reconciliation, which reduced cycle times by 40%, improved accuracy, and freed the finance team to focus on strategic tasks."
Axel's eyes narrowed slightly. "And how do you approach SLA compliance across distributed teams?"
"I deploy KPI dashboards using Power BI or Tableau that track vendor adherence to lead times, shipment accuracy, and quality metrics. I believe in establishing clear SLA frameworks upfront, with a feedback loop for continuous improvement. If a supplier underperforms, we engage in root cause analysis and corrective action plans rather than immediate penalties."
He nodded once, appreciatively.
"Last question," Axel said, voice dropping just a fraction. "How do you manage risk in fast-scaling operations?"
Danielle leaned in slightly, voice confident. "I use scenario planning combined with Monte Carlo simulations to forecast potential bottlenecks and disruptions—whether it's supplier insolvency, geopolitical issues, or sudden demand spikes. Building redundancies in logistics routes and vendor diversification is key. I also implement cross-training so team members can pivot roles without delay."
A slow smile crept onto Axel's face.
"hmmm" he said.
Danielle allowed herself a small, victorious smile.
That was the moment. He looked amused—like she had passed a test she didn't know she was taking.
The interview lasted thirty minutes, but it felt more like a strategic chess match than a typical Q&A. Questions that should have been simple felt loaded, each one a calculated move probing her resilience, mindset, and grit.
"How do you handle mistakes?" Axel asked, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was looking for something beneath her words.
Danielle didn't hesitate.
"Mistakes aren't the problem," she said firmly. "Everyone makes them. The real issue is when people cover them up or pass the blame. That kills trust, slows progress, and lets small problems fester until they explode."
He's watching how I frame accountability.
"I always push for transparency first," she continued. "Admitting errors quickly lets teams course-correct and learn. I encourage a culture where reporting a mistake isn't punished but seen as an opportunity to improve processes."
Axel gave a slow nod, clearly approving.
Then he shifted.
"Can you work odd hours? Time zones, urgent issues, last-minute fixes?"
Danielle laughed, the sound genuine despite the pressure.
"My current shift is pretty unconventional," she said with a grin. Letting him exceptionally little of her personal life. Like how she would always believe, her career and personal life should never intermix. She now lives for a life she decided to keep and she vowed to protect the life she now holds dear to her, Leo.
That got him. She saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"So yes," she added, "I'm no stranger to juggling unpredictability. When the world won't wait for a nine-to-five, neither do I."
The way he leaned forward, attentive and intrigued, told her she wasn't just answering questions—she was making an impression.
When it ended, he didn't give anything away. No smile, no verbal approval. Just a nod and: "We'll be in touch."
She closed the call and let out a long breath.
Had she impressed him?
"No, he hated my guts. Dumb move, biting back!"
But the bigger question gnawed at her more:
Why was he the one interviewing her in the first place?
She'd done enough hiring herself to know the founders only stepped in when it mattered. When they were either deeply invested—or deeply skeptical.
Maybe she was a risk.
Maybe he just didn't trust anyone else to make the call.
Or maybe—just maybe—he already knew she'd be more than just a hire.
Not even a day later, Danielle's phone buzzed with a WhatsApp message.
"Can you jump on a call in ten? Final interview." — Caden.
Caden? Sino 'yun? Lintweeerk bhie! Final Interview??
She squinted at the unfamiliar name. The profile picture was vague — just a shot of some coastline and a shadowy figure in sunglasses. She flipped back to her inbox, fingers moving fast.
Horizon Holdings... Axel, Axel, Axel...
There.
Caden had been cc'd on almost every email from the start. Always there, always silent. She had just... never paid attention.
So he's part of this. A quiet watcher.
And here I was thinking Axel was the only one behind the curtain.
Her thumb hovered. Then tapped.
This was it.
A lifeline.
She scrambled to accept the invite, heart thudding in rhythm with Ellenore's soft breathing nearby. Her daughter was curled up under their shared floor mattress, the electric fan rattling on its last leg.
Danielle looked around their cramped apartment — cracked walls, sagging curtain rod, makeshift workspace squeezed between the laundry pile and an old rice cooker.
"Aalis ako dito," she whispered, a promise she'd repeated so many nights it felt like a prayer. "Lilipat kami sa mas malaking apartment... at bibili ako ng sarili kong bahay."
She straightened her shirt, tied back her hair, and launched Zoom.
The waiting room opened. One... two... three attendees.
Then her eyes landed on him.
Axel.
Danielle's smile twitched, faltered for a fraction of a second. Her spine stiffened as irritation pulsed through her chest.
Seriously? Again? Doesn't he have boardrooms to haunt? Shooo, shoooooo — utang na loob, wag naman now! Baka ma-usog pa tong pangkabuhayan ko!
Then the third attendee gave a small wave and an easy smile.
Tall. Olive skin. Tousled brown hair. A clean white shirt, sleeves rolled up. Accent immediately distinct when he spoke:
"Hola, Danielle! Thanks for jumping on so quickly."
She blinked.
Wait... this is Caden?
He looked like he walked out of a Barcelona tech incubator — casual but crisp, startup-smooth. Friendly, but there was a flicker of sharpness in his eyes that said he didn't miss a detail.
So this is the other founder. Or is he?
She hadn't realized she was frowning until she saw her reflection. Instantly, she reset.
Smile — not too wide.
Voice — warm, not sweet.
Eyes — sharp.
Game face, girl. Don't choke now.
"Good day, gentlemen," she greeted — professional, polite, neutral. Not too enthusiastic. Especially not to him.
Axel gave a short nod, expression unreadable, saying nothing. But his presence pulsed at the edge of her screen — silent, assessing.
Caden took the lead. His tone was smooth, a little warmer than Axel's, but not less focused.
"Let's discuss your rate expectations," he said, glancing at Axel briefly before looking back at her.
Danielle's jaw set slightly. She'd been waiting for this.
"We're offering two thousand dollars to start," Caden added, glancing toward Axel.
Danielle didn't blink.
"I apologize, but that won't work."
Caden blinked. Axel's fingers paused, mid-type.
Danielle continued, calm but firm.
"I'm asking for thirty-five hundred."
"Danielle," Caden started gently,
"we're still a growing business. That might be—"
"I wouldn't be offered this if I weren't capable enough to lead operations," she cut in. "Five years in eCommerce. Five years in construction project management. I've seen startups rise and burn because they lacked structure. You don't need an assistant—you need someone to run your business."
Axel's head tilted. His lips parted just slightly—caught between amusement and disbelief.
Danielle kept going.
"If you want someone to execute, analyze, streamline, and grow this business across time zones and markets, I'm already underpricing myself."
Caden opened his mouth, but Axel raised a finger—silencing him.
"You're aware," Axel said slowly,
"that most applicants would take the two thousand without blinking?"
Danielle's eyes locked onto his.
"Most applicants didn't build what I could have built. I am not most applicants. And if I say yes too easily, you'll think I'm not worth more."
There was a beat of silence.
Caden looked caught between admiration and panic.
Axel? He just sat back in that real leather chair of his and stared at her. A slow, deliberate stare.
He felt something, that much was obvious. Admiration, irritation—he couldn't tell which one came first. Probably both.
Danielle added, softer now,
"You're not hiring someone to follow instructions. You're hiring someone to build this with you."
Another pause. Then Axel chuckled—low and brief.
"We'll talk about the number," he said. "But consider this your offer."
Danielle exhaled. This time, it wasn't out of panic—it was relief. Quiet, triumphant.
The offer was generous, she thought, especially for a startup in e-commerce. However, the business has been operating since 1987 starting from manufacturing their local produce to the establishment of Horizon Holdings just this past decade. Their conservative stance took a hit during the massive pandemic shaking the business to really focus on gaining leverage on the new operations as well as the announcement of the new CEO. New blood means new systems, but then managing a new wing can be taxing thus their hiring.
The base pay was well above typical entry-level tech or operations roles she'd seen—and it came with a package that looked good on paper.
There were allowances for internet and equipment, crucial for a remote setup. Incentives tied directly to performance milestones promised bonuses beyond the base salary. Health benefits covered not just her, but also Ellenore—something rare in startups still finding their footing.
Unlike the usual corporate roles, she mused, where it's all about cold numbers and vague promises of "growth opportunities," this felt real. Tangible.
It wasn't just money. It was respect. The kind that said: We know what you bring to the table, and we're willing to back it up.
Danielle's thoughts flickered back to Axel's silent stare—challenging, calculating, and now, maybe, finally convinced.
This wasn't just a job offer.
It was the first move in a game she was ready to win.
Later that night, Danielle sat cross-legged on the floor beside Ellenore. The fan still hummed. The curtain rod still sagged. But something inside her had shifted.
She hadn't just landed a job.
She had negotiated with the devil in a perfect suit—and won.
And whether he admitted it or not, Axel had felt it too.
Whether she was a hire, a threat, or a wildcard...
He'd chosen her.
And that, to Danielle, meant only one thing:
The real game was about to begin.