Ruz's POV.
Kuya tossed the keys at me. I caught them easily, like it was nothing new.
" We have exactly one hour to reach the location. If we are late…" He paused and glanced at me, his sharp eyes enough to send a chill down my spine.
"Mark my words," he continued quietly, "today will be your last day."
Without another word, he walked past me and took the passenger seat as if he had already decided my fate.
"Yes, boss," I muttered, giving a mock salute. 🫡
I shoved the last piece of bread into my mouth, quickly slipped into the driver's seat, and buckled my seatbelt. Alright… let's try to survive this.
I pressed the gas.
Fast.
Very fast.
Okay… maybe little too fast but hey don't judge me , I am a great driver. 😁
The city blurred past us as I focused on the road, my hands steady despite the speed.
Forty three minutes later, we arrived.
I parked the car perfectly and leaned back with a proud grin.
"Yes! Right on time. Respect the rash driver." 😎
SMACK!
"Oww!"
"If I ever see you driving like that again, I will shave your eyebrows," Kuya snapped, his voice dangerously low.
"You nearly crashed into another car. Who taught you to drive like that?"
I rubbed my head, pouting as I stepped out of the car and followed him inside.
"You always get angry at me… no matter what I do," I muttered under my breath.
"I can hear you," he said flatly without even looking back. "And I already warned you, I do not want a scene like last time. Understood?"
I instead shut my mouth.
We stepped into the lift. Kuya casually pressed the button for the 16th floor, like he owned the place.
A few moments later, the lift arrived at the 16th floor and the doors slid open with a soft chim, and 16th floor was breathtakingly luxurious.
A long, polished corridor stretched ahead, lined with elegant décor. The meeting room was modern and filled with sharply dressed individuals business partners and rivals alike.
The meeting began.
And just as I expected… our plan had been leaked. The rivals had stolen our project and rushed to present it as their own, without even understanding the problems hidden inside it.
I knew it.
I glanced at Kuya.
Yep. He was furious.
Not just angry no, this was the kind of fury that made you think someone might actually die today.
After their presentations ended, it was our turn.
I stepped forward, took a breath, and began.
I explained our project. Every detail. Every number. Every projection. My voice was clear, steady, confident the voice Kuya had taught me to use when I needed people to listen.
The men around the table shifted in their seats.
Some looked impressed. Some looked annoyed. Some looked like they were already planning their next move.
But they were all watching me.
That was the point.
After presenting, I didn't stop.
I start to pointed out the hidden mistakes in our rivals' project. The one they had stolen from us. The one they had presented as their own, thinking no one would notice, thinking we were too stupid to check. But i noticed coz those mistakes made by me.
I exposed them.
Right there.
In front of everyone.
The room went silent.
Then our rivals' faces went pale.
And the deal was ours.
Of course it is
After all, I am trained by the great Mark Azmain Cruz
But there was one man who didn't look pale.
He looked furious.
An old man. Silver hair, sharp eyes, expensive suit. He wasn't the one who had stolen our project. He wasn't even part of that group. So why was he so angry?
Maybe because a girl had defeated him.
Or maybe because he had never lost before, and he didn't know how to handle it.
I didn't know.
And I didn't even care.
After the meeting ended
We stepped out of the boardroom, and Kuya immediately grabbed my ear instead of patting my shoulder like a normal person.
"Aaaaiii...Kuya! That hurts!"
"You stubborn kid," he hissed. "Did I not warn you not to use your ridiculous ideas?"
"W...What did I even do?!" I protested.
"You and your 'innocent face' are not fooling me," he replied sharply. "How could you do that to him?"
Oh Roy.
I froze.
"…Because it was his plan," I said quietly. "He was the one who leaked the information."
Kuya released my ear, his gaze turning sharp and unreadable.
"How are you so certain?" he asked. "He is always with me, and I did not even share everything with him. You cannot accuse someone simply because you dislike him."
"But Kuya....."
He cut me off immediately.
"Then explain this," he said slowly. "Why did you put itching powder on his suit?"
…Oh.
Silence filled the air.
"You merciless beast," he added coldly.
I stayed quiet.
Yeah… if I say anything right now, I am definitely dead.
He turned and about to walking away.
"Finish your drama."
Then he suddenly stopped, half turned, and pointed at me.
"This is the last time."
I nodded quickly without hesitation.
A man in a proper outfit white shirt, black pants, black tie come toward us and said, "Mark Azmain Cruz. Sir called you. He wants to talk to you."
The old man called Kuya,
Kuya's expression changed.
He looked nervous.
That scared me more than anything else.
I watched through the glass wall as they talked. The old man's hands moved. His jaw was tight. Kuya nodded, nodded again, nodded like he had no choice but to agree.
Forty minutes passed.
Fifty.
Then Kuya came out.
His face was different now. Worried. Tense. The kind of worried that made my stomach clench.
He walked toward me.
"Go inside," he said.
"What?"
"He wants to talk to you."
"About what?"
"I don't know. But Ruz " He grabbed my arm. His grip was tight. "Respect him. Answer his questions properly. Don't be… you."
"Don't be me?"
"Don't be reckless. Don't be sarcastic. Don't be difficult."
"That's my whole personality."
"I know. That's why I'm worried."
He pushed me toward the door.
I walked inside.
The room was empty now except for the old man.
He sat at the head of the table, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes watching me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
"Close the door," he said.
I closed the door.
"Sit."
I sat.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"You called me here," I said. "You should introduce yourself first."
He raised an eyebrow.
"As if you don't know who I am."
"Should I? Then no."
He stared at me.
"You're really a reckless kid."
"If that's why you called me, let me inform you, I've been called worse. Much worse. By people much scarier than you."
"Oh?" He leaned back in his chair. "Okay. I'm Eduardo Mendoza. Top ten wealthiest businessmen in the world. Owner of Mendoza Enterprises. Your family's rival for the past thirty years."
Oh, same surname. Is he one of my relatives?
No. That's impossible.
…Whatever. I don't even use that surname anymore.
I didn't react.
"Please to meet you," I said. "I'm Ruzelle Richelle Cruz. Top one reckless, stubborn, troublemaker girl in the world. Also known as 'that kid who ruined your meeting.'"
He stared at me.
Then he laughed.
Not a polite laugh. A real one. The kind that came from somewhere unexpected.
"Huh," he said. "No wonder Azmain let you into this meeting. You're really something."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I'm choosing to take it as one."
He leaned forward.
"So. What's your father's name?"
"Antonio Cruz."
"Not your adoptive father. I'm asking about your real father."
I stiffened.
"I don't know."
"RICHELLE."
"Why are you shouting at me?" I stand up, My voice was sharp now. "You're not my relative. You're not someone I know closely. Why should I answer you?"
"Because I'm asking you." His voice was calm again. Controlled. "Because I'm older than you. More experienced than you. Because when someone older asks you a question, you should answer it. That's called respect."
"You haven't earned my respect."
"Then earn yours."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
"Sit down."
"I am sitting."
"Sit down properly."
"I am sitting properly."
"You're slouching."
"I'm comfortable."
He sighed. A long, tired sigh. The sigh of someone who had been dealing with difficult people his whole life.
"You're so stubborn. Can't you act like a normal kid for even a moment? I'm older than you show some respect," he said half-seriously, half-annoyed.
I looked at him calmly
"Then maybe you should ask like an adult," I replied. "Not like you're trying to dig into my personal life."
My tone stayed polite, but the message was clear, I answered respectfully, just not comfortably.
"What's your real name?"
I hesitated.
"Ruzelle Richelle Mendoza."
"Who's your father?"
Silence.
"Is it Rafael Mendoza?"
I didn't answer.
"Richelle."
"…Yes."
"And your mother?"
"Why are you questioning me about my personal information?" My voice was rising. "Why am I answering you? This doesn't make sense. I don't know you. You don't know me. This is...."
"Because you interrupted my business meeting. You owe me answers."
"That doesn't make sense. A business meeting is public. Anyone can speak. Anyone can present. That's literally the point of..."
"No AND or BUT."
"What?"
"Sit down and answer me. Or I'll complain to Azmain."
"You know the trigger words, don't you?"
"Whatever you think, you can think."
"Your mother's name?"
"Rozelle Del Rosario Mendoza."
"Your birth year?"
"2007."
He leaned back.
For a long moment, he didn't speak.
Then
"You look like her."
I didn't ask who.
"You have her eyes. Her stubbornness. Her inability to keep her mouth shut when someone tells her to."
"I'm taking that as a compliment."
"It wasn't."
"Still taking it."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
"You're too young to be in business meetings."
"Age is just a number."
"That's what old people say to feel better about being old."
"That's also what young people say to prove they're not too young."
He tilted his head.
"You have an answer for everything."
"I have an answer for things that deserve answers. Everything else gets silence."
"You talk too much."
"You ask too many questions."
"I'm old. I'm allowed."
"That's not how permission works."
"That's how MY permission works."
"Then your permission system is flawed."
He stared at me.
I stared back.
"You're not afraid of me," he said.
"Should I be?"
"Most people are."
"Most people are cowards."
"And you're not?"
"I'm too tired to be afraid. Fear takes energy. I don't have energy to waste on people who don't matter."
His eyes sharpened.
"And I don't matter?"
"You haven't proven otherwise yet."
He laughed.
Not a loud laugh. Not a fake laugh. A real one. Short. Surprised. Like he hadn't expected to find something amusing today.
"You're strange."
"You're old."
"That's not an insult."
"It's an observation."
"Same thing."
"Different thing."
He shook his head.
"Azmain is going to have his hands full with you."
"Kuya knows what he signed up for."
"Does he?"
"Probably not. But that's his problem, not mine."
He studied me for a long moment.
"I saw you in that meeting. I heard you speak. I saw your face."
"And?"
"And now I know."
"Know what?"
He didn't answer.
He just looked at me.
Like he was seeing something I couldn't see. Like he was looking at a ghost. Like he was looking at someone he had been searching for without knowing it.
"You should come work for me."
"What?"
"After school. On weekends. During breaks. I'll teach you business. Real business. Not the watered down version they teach in classrooms."
"I already have a mentor."
"Azmain?"
"Yes."
"He's good. But he's not me."
"That's not a convincing argument."
"I'm the top ten of the world."
"That's also not a convincing argument."
He leaned forward.
"You have potential. Raw. Untrained. Dangerous. If you don't learn to control it, it will control you."
"And you want to teach me?"
"I want to watch you grow."
"That sounds creepy."
"It sounds like mentorship."
"It sounds like an old man who's bored and wants entertainment."
He paused.
"…Also that."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"I'll think about it."
"That's all I ask."
I walked out of the room.
Kuya was waiting in the hallway, his arms crossed, his expression tense.
"What did he want?"
"To annoy me."
"Ruz."
"To ask questions. To stare at me like I was a ghost. To offer me a job."
"A job?"
"Internship. Mentorship. Whatever. He wants to 'watch me grow.' His words. Not mine."
Kuya stared at me.
"And?"
"And nothing. I said I'd think about it."
"You said you'd..."
"I said I'd think about it."
He rubbed his temples.
"You're going to give me a heart attack."
"You've mentioned."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then
"What did you think of him?"
I considered the question.
"He's annoying."
"That's it?"
"He's also… interesting."
Kuya's expression shifted.
"Be careful around him."
"Why?"
"Because men like Eduardo Mendoza don't notice people unless they want something."
"And what does he want?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
We walked out of the building together.
This time, he took the driver's seat.
Oh wow… is he scared now,what i had done in the morning? 😆
"Do you want to eat something?" he asked casually.
"Yes! I am starving. I did not even eat properly earlier."
"Then we will go to a restaurant first."
"Yes! Let's go!"
The car started moving.
Author's POV
Ruzelle Richelle Mendoza known as Ruz. She is a seventeen year old girl with a playful, chaotic, savage in her way.
She currently lives with her aunt, Regina Cruz, and her uncle, Antonio Cruz. Her cousin, Mark Azmain Cruz, constantly tries to discipline her… though his efforts rarely succeed.
For now, Ruz is free from school responsibilities as she prepares to transfer to a new academy.
Meanwhile, Azmain is recovering from a fractured left hand, which forces Ruz to assist him in meetings and business affairs.
However…
Behind her cheerful smiles and mischievous behavior…
Lies a much darker truth waiting to surface.