Danielle didn't notice the storm gathering miles away—both in the sky and in the corporate world she'd left behind. Her focus was on the hum of the Bronco's engine, the warm afternoon light spilling across the rice paddies, and the happy chatter of Leo in the backseat watching youtube on the iPad that was sent to her by Caden.
Social media exploded with excitement over the Pinot Noir line. The company's social feeds had blown up, the hashtags spreading like wildfire. Reels, posts, and stories surged across Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok as people shared their excitement. But it wasn't just local. Interest had reached Europe, the Americas, and even Asia. The buzz, as Axel had seen, was real—and it was global.
Pre-orders were pouring in from every region, looming over the horizon like a tidal wave. The buzz Danielle had carefully crafted—though seemingly small at first—had grown into something unstoppable. The email addresses for the winery, which had once sat idle and unofficial, now sat at the heart of a billion-dollar project in the making. The industry hadn't seen anything like it in years.
The preorders were stacking up, with demand rising across the globe, and the product hadn't even hit the shelves yet. Those early, unsuspecting batches? They were already fueling a new narrative. A story of an up-and-coming winery, now entwined with the Real de Lara family's old bloodline and a woman who had quietly, yet decisively, changed the game.
A few hours ago in her office, Danielle took a moment to savor the quiet hum of her email inbox, each notification a reminder that her plan was unfolding just as she intended. But there was still more to do. The house for her parents, the future of Horizon, and the real push for international expansion—it all loomed large.
The clock was ticking, but for now, she allowed herself a small moment of peace. The next chapter was about to begin. And whether or not Axel—or the Familia—understood what she had done, it didn't matter.
She was already playing a game that even they hadn't seen coming.
As the dusty provincial road narrowed into a familiar gravel path, Danielle eased her foot off the gas. The trees grew taller here, casting long shadows across the winding drive, and Leo leaned forward from the back seat, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Are we here, Mommy?"
Danielle smiled. Almost, anak.
Just up ahead, past the wooden gate and the patch of sunflowers that her mother stubbornly tended year-round, the small farm lot finally came into view. Smoke curled gently from the kitchen chimney, and in the far distance, she could make out two figures bent over in the rice paddies—her parents, still working, still tireless.
And bounding toward them in a blur of fur and wagging tail—
"TAMMY!!!"
Leo squealed, throwing open the car door before Danielle could even shift into park.
Danielle just laughed, pulling the Bronco beside the bamboo fence and switching off the engine. The quiet here was different. No pings from emails, no Slack messages, no buzz of urban paranoia. Just the rustle of leaves, the crunch of gravel under her boots, and the soft tug of home.
She stepped out and stretched, her eyes scanning the lot they'd worked so hard to buy. Worth every peso.
The house was simple but sturdy, hand-built by her dad with some help from local carpenters. Her mom had insisted on white curtains and clay pots lining the porch. It wasn't lavish, but it was theirs. Theirs, because Danielle had made it possible.
Leo's laughter echoed through the yard as Tammy licked her face in a flurry of affection.
Danielle exhaled, finally—finally—allowing herself a moment to let her guard down.
They don't need to know what's coming. Not yet.
She walked toward the house, bag over her shoulder, leaving her work phone and laptop tucked safely at the back of the Bronco. Whatever Axel was planning next, they could wait.
Today, she was just a daughter coming home.
Her dad was already whistling softly, turning the key in his hand like it was gold.
"Ayos 'to ah… Bronco?" he asked, eyes tracing the frame like a seasoned judge at an auto show. Danielle only nodded, smirking.
"Pinark lang po sa bahay. Hindi na po binalikan, sayang poag hindi nagamit!" she quipped, arms crossed as she watched him walk around it like it was an old friend.
What she didn't say was that her dad had spent more than half his life working in the Middle East. A master electrician with the soul of a mechanic, he'd driven Land Rovers and Prados through oil fields and cities she could barely pronounce as a child. He wasn't new to luxury—but this one, this Bronco? It was different.
"Makiki-test drive muna ako ha," he said without waiting for approval, the excitement on his face pure and unmistakably boyish.
Danielle choked up a bit, her smile faltering as she stepped back. Watching her father—this strong, graying man who once sent balikbayan boxes filled with bar soaps and LEGO knock-offs—light up like a kid on Christmas morning hit a soft, tender nerve. She made this moment happen. For once, she gave something big back.
Leo leaned on her side, watching her lolo with wide eyes. "Mommy, is Lolo going fast?"
"Let's hope not," she laughed, wiping the corner of her eye before her daughter could ask why she looked like she was crying.
Minutes later, her dad pulled back into the driveway, stepping out with a satisfied grin and dust on his slippers.
"Grabe, ang lambot ng manibela. Pero parang… gusto ko pang isa pa. Pwede bang isa pa bukas?"
Danielle nodded, biting back her emotion. "Sayo na muna po 'yan habang nandito kami."
He gave her a look of mock offense. "Eh di parang mayaman tayo niyan!"
"Magmukhang drug lord pag-uwi," her mom interjected from the door, "Drug lord lang ang boss n'ya, hindi s'ya!"
Laughter erupted all around. Even Tammy barked like she wanted to be in on the joke.
Once the Bronco was parked under the mango tree, they moved to the side table where brunch had been quietly prepared while they were out.
A spread of kakanin, kapeng barako, sliced guavas, and banana cue greeted them. Her mom had even brought out her favorite woven banig for them to sit on in the garden.
"Ma, parang fiesta."
"Hindi ba dapat? Nandito kayong mag-ina. Tsaka may bago kaming baby—'yung kotse!"
While the laughter still echoed around the yard and Tammy settled at their feet, Danielle quietly rose from her seat. With deliberate calm, she began gathering the bags from the Bronco—the groceries, the small treasures they'd brought along. Each item she carried felt heavier with meaning than weight.
This wasn't just stuff to be unpacked. This was proof. Proof that this was her home now. Not the house she had grown up in—the cramped spaces, the noisy streets, the constant hustle—but this place. This quiet farm lot, these sturdy walls built by her father's hands, the soft curtains her mother chose with care.
This was the home she had helped build. The home she was giving to her family.
Carrying the bags back inside, she breathed in the scent of fresh wood and earth. Here, the future wasn't just a distant thought—it was tangible, solid, waiting to be shaped.
Leo was already picking at the suman and trying to convince her lolo to let her help clean the Bronco later. Her dad just winked and handed her a tiny microfiber towel.
Danielle sat back, letting the steam of the coffee warm her hands. Her shoulders lowered, the hum of the province settling into her bones.
She had left her work phone and laptop in the back of the Bronco for a reason. The new neighbors were already peeking too hard. No, not today. No inbox, no dashboards. Just family.
For now, the world could wait.
She swallowed hard, fighting back the sting in her eyes.
There it is again—that look. Like I've done something good.
Her hands tucked into her back pockets as she looked away for a second, pretending to check on Leo and Tammy in the yard.
She was never reckless. Just young. Just too hopeful, too trusting—until life forced her to toughen up fast.
Society never saw the hours. The grind. The nights crying in silence with a baby sleeping next to her. They only saw a girl who came home pregnant. The disgrace. The scandal. The shame they thought she brought to a good man's door.
But not once did he say anything. Not once did he make her feel like less.
Still, she carried it. Yung kahihiyan na binigay niya sa magulang niya. Even if they never gave her a reason to feel it.
And now… her dad was out there, turning the corner with a smile on his face—driving her car. Not for utility. Not for need. But for joy.
That was enough.
After brunch, Danielle's dad and mom, went in to freshen up and changed into a crisp polo and jeans. They looked fresh, decades younger, the kind of proud only fathers like him could pull off without saying a word.
Danielle emerged in her usual: clean jeans, a plain top, minimal makeup, and a tote bag that had seen better years. Leo was already by the door, her Minecraft sling bag bouncing against her hip, shoes barely strapped on.
"Tay, ikaw mag-drive ha. Hindi pa rin ako sanay sa laki ng Bronco na 'to." Dan said with a teasing smile, tossing him the keys.
Her father caught them midair, grinning. "Gusto mo lang i-test drive ko ulit, no?"
They loaded into the car. Her dad behind the wheel. Leo and her lola at the back, whispering about slime and snacks. Danielle sat passenger-side, her eyes quietly tracking the road, her thoughts on what else she could still do for them before the year ends.
The drive to SM was smooth. Familiar. A rhythm they had before, when she was younger — back when her dad was on vacation from Riyadh or Dubai, taking the family out during his short months home. He'd driven the family's Adventure back then, she remembered. But never a Bronco.
Inside SM, Danielle didn't announce anything. She simply let them roam — her mom to the cookware section, her dad to hardware, Leo to the toys.
She trailed behind each one, subtly pulling items from their hands and dropping them into the shopping cart before they could argue. A new toolset for her dad. A cast-iron pan and storage containers for her mom. A new Minecraft kit and bath slime for Leo.
"Dan, sobra na ata 'to—" her mom tried to stop her when she reached for a multi-piece steamer.
"Ma, kung ngayon hindi ko kayo bibilhan, kailan pa?" Danielle replied softly, her tone light but final.
They didn't argue again.
When dinner came, they settled at a clean, air-conditioned restaurant across the mall, one of those mid-tier places with generous servings and kind servers. She ordered everything — her dad's bulalo, her mom's laing, Leo's spaghetti and fries. Her own plate went untouched for a while as she watched her family eat, loud and content.
She slipped out the matte black Horizon card — the one Axel sent in December — and paid for the meal. Quietly. Efficiently.
The shopping bags, however, stayed paid in cash. Her cash.
She didn't need Horizon's money for that. Not yet. Not for them.
There was still pride, and part of her still needed to prove that she could carry her family on her own back.
That they never made a mistake betting on her.
What Danielle didn't notice were the figures two tables down. Plain clothes, empty plates, well-behaved. Observing, not interfering. Blending in.
Familia-assigned.
They were there to watch over her. To make sure nothing touched her or Leo. Not now. Not after what she's built.
She had no idea. Not even a twitch of awareness. Not yet.
Her world was her family. Her joy, watching her daughter fall asleep in the backseat on the ride home, cradling a plush dino named "Sir Dino Leo."
Her dad drove in silence, still buzzing from his second joyride.
And behind them, three cars behind the Bronco, the shadows followed. Not to spy.
To guard. Her, and her everything.
The day's last light faded slowly, leaving a deep indigo sky sprinkled with stars. Danielle stood barefoot on the porch steps, the cool earth grounding her as a gentle breeze whispered through the mango trees. The soft chirping of crickets filled the air, a simple symphony she hadn't realized she'd missed so much.
She tilted her head back, letting her eyes wander across the constellations—silent witnesses to her journey. The same stars that had shone on her childhood, on the long nights she spent working, hoping, and sometimes breaking.
This is real, she thought. This life I fought for—this peace, this quiet.
Her hands trembled slightly, clutching the worn tote bag now emptied of its treasures. For a moment, the weight of everything—the struggles, the shame, the victories—washed over her. The sky stretched endlessly above, vast and unchanging, yet here she was, firmly rooted.
A whisper of a smile touched her lips.
No matter what comes next, this will always be my home.
Inside, Leo's laughter floated from the kitchen, mingling with her parents' warm voices. Danielle breathed deeply, the cool night air filling her lungs, steadying her heart.
She stayed there a while longer, alone with the stars—quiet, strong, and ready for whatever the future held.