As the week progressed, Danielle had gotten more in-depth with the entire organization. From afar, Horizon Holdings might've looked like a well-oiled machine, but inside? It was chaos hiding under layers of polished delegation. So she stripped it down—cleaned it up.
She restructured everything: revised workflows, initiated a hiring process for the packaging division, and issued a memo instructing tenured employees to train the new hires. It didn't feel like micromanaging. It felt necessary. The business was scaling too fast for its own skeleton to hold up.
When Axel finally asked, "Why are we hiring again?"
She simply said, "It's necessary."
By midweek, the shock of her life came in boxes—several, delivered in silence. White, pristine Apple boxes she'd only ever seen on her Pinterest board.
A MacBook Pro. An iPad Pro. An iPhone 15 Pro Max. AirPods Max. A studio mic. Monitors. Branded chargers. Cables still wrapped in silk-like plastic.
She stared at the stack like it might disappear.
Di ko afford 'to, mhie. Grabe. Hello? Ako lang 'to—yung VA nyo na stressed.
But she spared no time idolizing tech. With boxes tossed aside, she started setting it all up.
Then, Axel called.
"Do you know how to set it up?"
Already slightly irritated, she answered bluntly, "Yeah. Why hire me if I can't even deal with this?"
"cálmate, eh?"
"What? English, please. I wasn't born yet when the Spaniards were in the country."
"Sí, años como colonia. Ahora trabajas para el colonizador. Irónico."
She squinted. "I understood that. Money is money—I need to make a living."
Axel fell quiet for a beat, then told her to use the credentials under the VPN access provided. No further comment. The line went dead.
Once the Mac was fully routed and configured, she noticed a couple more boxes left by the front door—ones she had completely ignored in her Apple-drunk haze.
These weren't white or sleek. They were cardboard. Heavy. Practical.
A new mechanical lifting desk. A cushioned ergonomic office chair. A widescreen PC monitor. A full setup of peripherals. And… an umbrella?
Payong, ganon ba ako ka*sunog? Really? Pero swak to pag lalabas kami ni Leo!
She chuckled to herself, muttering curses under her breath as she lugged everything inside, setting the umbrella on the coat hook behind the front door. A part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all—but she knew better. This wasn't a gift. It was investment.
Seeing how the new desk would eat up space, she reimagined the house layout. The second floor had three rooms: Leo's, hers, and a small one that had always sat empty like a forgotten thought. A storage overflow. A place for stray boxes and unused dreams. She stared at the doorknob for a second before opening it.
Dust motes floated in the afternoon light. The room was bare save for a plastic drawer in the corner and a thin film of lint on the windowsill.
"This'll do," she muttered.
She tied her hair into a bun, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.
The first hour was chaos. Cardboard guts littered the hallway. Styrofoam squeaking under her slippers. Instructions were either too vague or too smug, printed in a hundred languages but never quite saying what needed to be said. She muttered a few more profanities under her breath, paced twice, then finally started assembling the desk.
Punyeta! Sinong nakaisip ng mga instructions neto! De puta talaga!, muttering under her now heavier breathing.
It was a matte black, industrial-looking thing—steel frame, sturdy motor, none of the TikTok flair. Just muscle. Clean and cold. It took effort, and more than one YouTube search, but when it finally powered on with a low hum and adjusted height with a button press, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Okay. Not bad."
Next came the chair—thick cushions, adjustable arms, lumbar support that actually felt engineered. She sat in it once, experimentally. Tilted. Bounced.
Approved.
The monitor was a beast—widescreen, thin bezels, the kind of thing you didn't buy unless you were sure of your ambition. She lined it up with the desk's edge, symmetrical and satisfying. Then came the keyboard, mouse, mic arm, and camera mount. One of which Dan is sure, she would rarely use.
No LED lights. No floating shelves. Just clean cable routing, smart placement, and a short power strip zip-tied to the leg of the desk.
The small room transformed slowly. She wiped the window. Opened it. Let the light in. The walls were still bare, and she liked it that way. No distractions. No personality required. Just function. Focus. Flow.
By the time she stood back and surveyed the space, a quiet sense of satisfaction settled in her chest. This wasn't pretty. But it was hers. Made with her own hands. Paid for with early mornings and stress headaches.
She added one final touch—her water bottle on the desk and a sticky note that simply read: "Work smart. Leo's watching."
Then she turned off the lights and closed the door behind her.
A headquarters, built from cardboard and resolve.
Eventually, I might need help. But for now, the smallest room will do.
She didn't really have much to do today. For once.
She had always come in early, again. 4AM sharp Barcelona time. Axel and Caden had already noticed her routine over the past months and had quietly doubled her pay without question. They saw her building this empire with her own two hands.
So, with a rare pocket of free time, she started hauling the boxes downstairs. Midway down, the doorbell rang.
"Mommy!!!! Someone's outside!!" Leo's tiny voice echoed from above.
"Wait lang, anak!" She wiped her forehead and changed into a cleaner shirt.
Priorities.
Running down, she saw a logo on the man's uniform—one she immediately recognized.
FORD.
"Good morning po. Andito po ba si Danielle Reyes?"
"Ano pong sa'tin?" she asked cautiously.
"Delivery po, Ma'am. Ford po."
Danielle walked to the gate, heart already beating a strange rhythm. And there it was.
She opened the gate and stepped outside, cautious but curious. The morning sun bounced off the sleek surface of a Shadow Black Bronco Sasquatch, perched like royalty on the back of a delivery trailer. Her jaw hung slightly open, disbelief flooding her senses.
No. Freaking. Way. No, have I passed from exhaustion? No, Leo! It must have been good to be in heaven, my dream car is here.
But a small screech from the trailer interrupted her thoughts.
A beast of a machine, a Bronco Sasquatch in Shadow Black, parked on a trailer like a crowned prize.
It shimmered. Commanded the street. Obviously, didn't belong in her subdivision.
Her jaw hung slack. Her chest caved.
No. No way. That's not what I think it is.
Leo's tiny hand gripped the edge of the gate beside her, her face glowing with curiosity and excitement.
"Mommy, it's a monster truck! Is that ours? It's big like a dinosaur!"
Danielle blinked rapidly, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. "Uhm, hi. Uh—ano po 'to?"
The man in navy Ford coveralls smiled politely.
"Delivery po, Ma'am. One unit Ford Bronco Sasquatch, Azure Gray, under Horizon Holdings. Name on file: Danielle Reyes. Pakipirma na lang po dito sa release documents.Need lang po ng valid ID, and sign the documents lang Ma'am. May table po ba kayo? Pwedeng paki-fill up na lang po lahat ng may stick notes."
He handed her a thick stack of papers clipped to a smooth black clipboard. It was oddly surreal to see her name printed at the top of something that felt… so expensive.
Tangina. This car costs more than my entire life.
Her legs nearly gave out.
Ford Bronco Sasquatch 4x4
Engine: 2.7L EcoBoost V6
Color: Shadow Black Tri-Coat
Assigned to: Danielle Reyes
Recipient Signature: ____________________
Dan's hands trembled slightly as she gripped the pen tyring to seat down on her chair inside the now gaping front gate. She skimmed the forms—delivery details, proof of receipt, waiver forms for cosmetic damages in transit, and instructions for next steps regarding registration and insurance. Her name was printed clearly on all of them. Her name. Not Axel's. Not Horizon's. Hers.
She looked up at the trailer again, heart thumping. The delivery guy gave the signal to the operator in the cab, and with a hiss of hydraulics, the trailer tilted. The Bronco began its descent like a beast being carefully lowered to earth.
Leo clapped her hands.
"Mommy! Mommy! It's coming down! It's coming down!"
Danielle chuckled, but her eyes watered. Why am I crying? she thought. It's just a car, right?
Wrong.
It was the car she'd only ever seen on YouTube reviews. The one she'd mock-configured a dozen times on the Ford website, each time closing the tab with a tight sigh and a little heartbreak. It was the dream car she'd always said she'd buy "pag nanalo ako ng Lotto kahit hindi tumataya, sayang bente."
And now, here it was—metal, rubber, and muscle—being parked casually in her driveway.
As the Bronco touched the ground, the man handed her a branded Ford key fob. It felt heavy in her hand, and for a second, she stared at it like it might disappear. "We've already activated the app, ma'am, pwede ko na bang i-demo yung unit?" the delivery guy said.
DANIELLE:
(still blinking)
"Uh-huh. Yeah. Right. For… work."
FORD REP:
(smiling)
"Of course, ma'am. We'll just go over the features. First off, this baby runs on a 2.7L EcoBoost V6. Responsive, torque-heavy, and she purrs like a panther on caffeine po."
DANIELLE:
(staring at the tires)
"Those tires, mas matangkad na to sa anak ko."
FORD REP:
(laughs politely)
"All-terrain, Ma'am. And the ground clearance is excellent for... say, off-roading in Tanay or—"
DANIELLE:
(interrupting)
"Tanay? Sir, I work in logistics. The only terrain I'm off-roading is through PDF hell and broken Excel formulas."
FORD REP:
"May pre-collision assist din po, Ma'am. Para iwas bangga."
DANIELLE:
"Meron bang pre-breakdown assist? Kasi ako 'yon. Ako 'yong binabangga ng buhay."
FORD REP:
"Auto start po via app!"
DANIELLE:
"Gusto ko rin sanang auto-start yung motivation ko, kaso wala sa App Store."
FORD REP:
"Well, if you're ready, we can do a short drive around the block just so you get a feel—"
DANIELLE:
"Oh God. Now? Kuyyaaaaa, pwede bang next week na? Haha parang nakaktakot naman."
FORD REP:
(laughing again) Sige ma'am, schedule na lang natin"
-----
"You'll get the access codes and ownership info from Horizon's legal within the day. Enjoy the ride!"
Leo ran to the passenger side as the trailer pulled away and squealed.
"Can we go inside, Mommy? Please please please! It looks like a Transformer!"
Dan laughed through the lump in her throat, crouching beside her daughter. "Not now, anak. Mommy has to read the instructions first."
But as Leo twirled in the driveway, hair catching the light and eyes wide with happiness, Danielle's emotions crumbled like old concrete. She stood there, hand gripping the fob, the other pressed against her chest.
I did this. I brought this home. For her. For us.
A few neighbors peeked through their windows. Some even stepped out, pretending to sweep their yards just to get a better look. Danielle didn't even care. For once, she didn't feel the need to apologize for receiving something so extravagant. She'd been breaking her back, working four hours before call time, managing two men's responsibilities, and flipping entire systems. This wasn't a gift. It was compensation. And maybe—just maybe—respect.
Still holding back tears, she turned to Leo and said,
"Do you want to name the car?"
Leo paused, putting a finger to her lips in thought.
"Let's name her T-Rex. But like… T-Rexy. Because she's strong, and black, and eats the road!"
Danielle burst out laughing. "T-Rexy it is."
Back inside the house, she leaned against the front door, key fob in hand, and slowly slid to the floor. Her head throbbed.
Okay. Okay, wait. This has to be a mistake. A bribe? A setup? A loyalty bonus?
She picked up her phone and scrolled through her Horizon email. No mention of a car in the previous threads. Not even a hint. Then—
Inbox: 1 New Message
From: [email protected]
Subject: Logistic confirmation — final drop
Hi Danielle,
Per Axel's direction, the last delivery (automobile) has now arrived. All items have been fulfilled ahead of schedule before the holiday. Please confirm receipt via Ops portal. Let me know if you need registration help.
Thanks again for your consistency and tenacity. Horizon sees you.
Horizon sees me? Or Horizon is watching me? Kasi magkaibang-magkaiba yun, mhie.
She buried her face in her hands. Who even gets cars sent to their house?
Ano ba 'to, raffle? Welcome to the Twilight Zone?
No further instructions. Just a quiet kind of acknowledgment wrapped in the form of a machine built for power.
"Mommy!" Leo called again from upstairs. "Can I ride it now? Is it ours?"
Danielle took a deep breath, wiping her face with her sleeve.
"After we eat, anak. We'll both ride it for the first time. But not today, okay?"
"Okay, Mommy! Is that your work car now?"
Danielle paused, staring at the fob in her hand.
"I think… yeah. I guess it is."
She returned to the kitchen and started cooking. Garlic rice. Fried tilapia. Quick dinner, nothing fancy. She needed grounding.
To help shift her mood, she connected her phone to the TV and blasted Chocolate Factory's old playlist—Reggae, mellow, warm.
She swayed slightly to the beat as she stirred the frying pan, as if pretending life made sense again.
I asked for stability. Not a car. Not a Bronco. Just a job. Just a chance to fix my life.
When everything was ready, she placed Leo's plate on the table and sat for a moment, trying not to spiral.
Then, she opened her laptop. Typed a new email. Stared at it. Reworded it. Deleted half of it. Then finally, just wrote:
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Tools and Resources
Hi Sir,
Received everything as of today. Will finalize confirmations via the portal after dinner.
Quick question though…
Is this my separation pay?
She hit send.
Outside, the Azure Gray Bronco glinted under the last light of day—calm, quiet, and parked like a permanent fixture in her life now.