KEIFER'S POV
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my suit one last time.
Black. Sharp. Cold.
The kind of suit that didn't need an introduction—
it was the introduction.
The kind that made grown men lower their voices and heirs straighten their posture.
The kind that screamed power without saying a word.
Honey leaned against the doorway, sipping iced coffee like she was watching a private fashion show.
"You look like someone's about to lose their company," she said, smirking, her foot tapping against the doorframe.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Someone will. If they piss me off."
She snorted, shaking her head.
"God, I missed this version of you. The dangerous Watson. Not the soft one who kept staring at his phone for a week."
I didn't answer her — not because she was wrong, but because looking at my reflection made my chest tighten in a way I hated admitting.
Because for the first time in a week…
I didn't want to look dangerous.
I wanted to look good.
For her.
Jay.
My weakness.
My disaster.
My missing piece.
God, I missed her so much it was embarrassing — even to myself.
While Honey rambled about my schedule, I lifted my phone and snapped a mirror selfie:
Suit sharp.
Tie loose.
Hair perfectly, intentionally messed.
Jawline… doing what it always did.
I typed:
Keifer:
Heading out.
If you were here, I'd cancel the entire event just to keep you staring at me.
I hovered for a second — then sent it.
Honey groaned.
"Flirting again?"
"Shut up and check if the car's ready," I shot back.
She laughed and pushed off the doorframe.
When she left, I looked at my screen again.
Read the message.
Read it again.
Then again.
If she replied, I'd go insane.
If she didn't reply, I'd go insane.
Either way, she won.
The moment we stepped out, cameras exploded — flashes hitting me like lightning.
At me.
At the businessmen.
At their wives in diamonds.
At the heirs pretending they weren't jealous.
Honey walked beside me, clipboard in hand, heels clicking like she owned the carpet.
She always liked being mistaken as the terrifying assistant who could kill deals with a single look.
Inside, the temperature shifted.
Soft lights.
Polished floors.
Gowns worth fortunes.
Perfume so expensive it could pay someone's rent for a year.
I moved through the crowd quietly.
Low profile.
Low voice.
High presence.
The type that made everyone look but no one approach without permission.
A few CEOs caught sight of me.
"Mr. Watson, it's finally nice to meet you."
"Your reputation precedes you."
"Watson Corp is lucky to have you."
I nodded politely.
Calm.
Controlled.
Distant.
Honey handled the rest, always stepping in before I had to waste breath.
Then—
I saw them.
Section E.
Scattered in clusters, each one standing beside someone influential — ambassadors, corporate heirs, socialites.
They looked uncomfortable in expensive clothes, but good.
Too good.
They froze for half a second when they recognized me.
I dipped my head once.
Civil.
Professional.
Detached — the way someone like me was supposed to be.
Percy whispered loudly to Luke,
"Why does he look like he's about to buy this entire hotel?"
Stella smacked him so hard he choked on his drink.
Honey bit her tongue to stop laughing.
I didn't react.
Because something else was happening.
Something underneath the music.
Under the chatter.
Under the polished surface of the event.
The air shifted.
A ripple.
A silent, instinctive alarm in my chest — the kind that never lied to me.
The lights dimmed.
Spotlights adjusted, rolling like hunting beams.
An announcer walked onto the stage, voice echoing over the hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen… in a few minutes, we will begin the final segment — the one everyone has been waiting for."
Glasses clinked.
Phones came out.
People whispered like the world was about to shift.
Honey leaned in slightly, voice low.
"C&J is about to reveal their face. The face behind the global empire that shook the market — even ours. Everyone's been dying to know who's behind the brand."
I froze.
C&J.
Jay worshipped that brand.
She collected their design jackets..
She stayed up late watching their runway shows.
My jaw clenched.
Was she watching the livestream right now?
Or out?
Or asleep?
Or deliberately ignoring my message?
I hated that I didn't know.
The announcer continued,
"The mastermind behind the fastest-growing luxury brand, and the silent force behind multiple global collaborations… will now take the stage."
Applause burst like fireworks.
Cheers rose.
Cameras flashed so hard the room flickered white.
But my chest tightened painfully.
Something was wrong.
Something was coming.
A sharp, electric feeling lodged itself under my ribs — a warning that made my pulse spike.
Honey touched my arm lightly.
"Keifer? You okay?"
I didn't answer.
Because suddenly…
I didn't feel calm at all.
Not controlled.
Not distant.
Not detached.
Something was about to flip my entire night upside down.
Something that felt too familiar.
Too personal.
Too connected to the one person my mind refused to stop thinking about.
The announcer lifted his mic again.
"And now… the moment the world has been waiting for."
Music swelled.
Spotlights converged on the side of the stage.
Silence spread across the hall like a held breath.
The announcer raised his hand, and the entire hall fell into a deeper silence.
He stepped forward, voice booming through the speakers — not casual, not polite…
Myth-reciting.
History-making.
Reverent.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, pacing as if preparing a battlefield speech,
"For the past year… the global corporate world has been disrupted by a ghost."
People shifted.
Phone cameras rose.
"The corporation known as C&J — with no public face, no CEO known to the world, and no single industry they limit themselves to — has topped every quarterly evaluation."
Claps rippled.
My heartbeat did something ugly in my chest.
"An empire that started from NOTHING," the announcer continued, voice dropping for effect, "yet now owns major stakes in technology, medical research, real estate, cyber-security, renewable energy, and international trade."
People murmured.
Honey whispered, "C&J… again. They're insane."
But the announcer wasn't done.
"In the past six months alone," his voice thundered,
"C&J has single-handedly taken on three multinational corporations, outbid five billionaire consortia, and acquired seven rising companies without EVER revealing the identity behind the power."
The applause was louder this time.
My pulse was not normal anymore.
"Many of you," he said, sweeping his arm across the room,
"have tried to guess who stands behind C&J."
People laughed nervously.
"The media called them:
The Phantom CEO.
The Silent Shark.
The Youngest Power Player.
The Corporate Myth."
The room buzzed with heat.
My stomach tightened.
Because something about the rhythm of this truth—the mystery, the challenge—felt too familiar.
Too close.
"And tonight," the announcer continued, the lights dimming even more,
"You will finally witness the face behind the empire."
The crowd leaned forward.
My jaw locked.
Honey grabbed her clipboard a little too tightly.
Spotlights moved — slow, deliberate, hunting.
"C&J is officially the No. 1 fastest-rising corporation this quarter," he announced proudly.
"No losses. No scandals. No failures.
Just brilliance. Strategy. Precision."
My chest felt tight.
He inhaled dramatically.
"And now…
Please rise—
for the official public reveal
of the youngest corporate mastermind of the year."
Every guest stood.
Every camera turned.
Every heartbeat synced in the silence.
The lights went out.
Completely.
Gasps.
Whispers.
Shuffling.
A single note of low music started—deep, vibrating, suspenseful.
Then—
ONE spotlight flickered to life.
Bright.
Pure white.
Focused on the stairs descending to the stage.
And in that circle of light…
A silhouette appeared.
Small frame.
Confident walk.
Head held high.
The shape alone punched the air out of my lungs.
No.
No.
No.
It couldn't be—
The announcer's voice shook the hall:
"Introducing…the Founder, the Visionary,
the youngest Executive Power Player in the country…"
The figure stepped forward, into the light.
And my entire world—
stopped.
Because standing in that spotlight—
Calm.
Composed.
Terrifyingly beautiful.
Was Jay...
JAY.
MY JAY JAY.
Standing there like she had been born to walk into a storm and make it kneel.
For a second — maybe a full minute — I forgot how to breathe.
Forgot how to blink. Forgot the hall. Forgot Honey calling my name. Forgot everything except the fact that my girl was standing under a spotlight meant for legends.
Hair falling perfectly. Suit tailored to her frame. Expression calm—no, regal. Eyes sharp enough to slice the damn oxygen.
And the entire hall…
Fell silent.
Like they were looking at something they didn't know whether to fear, admire, or worship.
My throat tightened painfully.
Honey whispered beside me, voice cracking, "Keifer… she's… she's the CEO of C&J?!"
I didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Because every piece of my brain was breaking apart and reforming itself around this single, impossible truth.
Jay — MY Jay — the girl who fell asleep on my chest this afternoon the girl I worried about the girl whose brothers terrified me the girl I kissed until the world blurred—
She was C&J.
The global empire. The corporate myth. The phantom everyone tried to unmask.
Her.
Her.
Her.
The light intensified as she reached center stage, and the announcer continued like he was unveiling a goddess carved from power and storms:
"JASPER JEAN FERNANDEZ MARIANO. Everybody.Founder. Mastermind. Executor. The youngest corporate strategist to ever top three international markets in one quarter."
Cameras exploded in flashes. Guests gasped. People whispered her name like a secret finally exposed.
My hands curled into fists.
Because emotion punched me so hard it split into three pieces:
1. Pride — violent, overwhelming, consuming.
2. Shock — the kind that made your heartbeat stumble.
3. And fear — because I understood exactly how dangerous a world she had just stepped into.
Jay stood there, perfectly still, her chin up, eyes scanning the crowd with that unreadable calm she wore when she was hiding something big.
Something like this.
God.
I wanted to drag her off stage and shake her and kiss her in the same breath.
Honey nudged me again.
"Keifer," she whispered urgently, "you're— you're pale."
"I'm fine," I lied.
(Absolutely not fine.)
Jay lifted the mic, her voice steady — too steady:
"Good evening."
A simple sentence. But the hall reacted like she'd delivered a declaration of war.
JAY'S POV
Backstage — Right Before the Reveal
The room behind the stage was freezing.
Not from the AC. Not from nerves. From the weight of what I was about to do.
The black dress I wore hugged perfectly—simple, elegant, powerful.
Classy enough for a corporate reveal.
Sharp enough to silence a room.
My hair was pinned just right, makeup clean and minimal — the kind of look that said:
I don't need glitter to blind you.
Ethan hovered near the curtain, one hand on his earpiece, the other clutching the clipboard like it owed him rent.
"Jay," he whispered, peeking through the gap, "you're trending already and you haven't even stepped out."
I didn't move.
Because through the crack of the curtain…
I was watching them.
Everyone.
Section E scattered across the ballroom in gowns and tuxes.
Yuri sipping champagne like he owned the hotel.
Stella whispering to someone, eyes wide.
Percy,dad chatting with on of the investors..
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then—
My eyes moved.
And landed on him.
Keifer.
Even standing at the edge of the crowd, he didn't blend in.
Not with that suit.
Not with that stupid jawline.
Not with the calm-dangerous aura that made people move without realizing they were moving.
He looked sharp.
Cold.
Untouchably powerful.
But his eyes…
His eyes weren't cold.
They were scanning the room like he felt something shifting under his feet — like he knew something was coming but had no idea it was me.
Ethan coughed softly.
"Jay… it's time."
I nodded once, the motion smooth, rehearsed.
The lights on stage cut off — total darkness swallowing the hall.
Gasps.
Whispers.
I took one slow breath.
This was it.
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers:
"Please rise for the official public reveal of the youngest corporate mastermind of the year—
the Founder and CEO of C&J.
JASPER JEAN FERNANDEZ MARIANO EVERYBODY!!"
Ethan gave me a quick, subtle look — Go.
My heels clicked against the stairs as the spotlight burst to life, a blinding white circle waiting for me.
I stepped forward.
One step.
Two steps.
The music pulsed through the floor.
And then—
I entered the light.
Cameras detonated like fireworks.
Flashes.
Gasps.
Silence crashing over the hall as people realized exactly who was walking toward the mic.
I kept my chin up.
Shoulders back.
Expression calm, controlled, unreadable — the same mask I built from years of keeping secrets bigger than myself.
I didn't look at Section E.
I didn't look at the CEOs.
I didn't look at the investors frozen mid-breath.
But I did see Keifer.
Not directly.
Through the corner of my eye.
He wasn't breathing.
I reached the podium, the world still exploding in light and sound around me.
I lifted the mic.
Paused.
Looked up.
Sharpened my gaze into something precise, elegant, and in full control.
Then spoke the first word that would change everything:
"Good evening."