Chapter 3: The First Strike
454 Words
“Oi, poor boy!”
Tredy paused on the steps of Gran Santiago Tech, barely able to finish a bite of his pandesal before Marco’s voice cut through the campus air like an unwelcome alarm.
Marco Villanueva, dressed like a billboard ad for luxury brands, swaggered toward him with a mocking grin.
“Didn’t I see you working at Netzone Café last month?” Marco asked loudly. “What happened? Get fired for scratching a customer’s mouse?”
Students around them chuckled.
Tredy calmly wiped his hands. “No. I resigned.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Big word. You practicing for job interviews already?”
More laughter.
Leira Mendez appeared just then, holding an iced coffee, curious at the commotion.
Her eyes landed on Tredy, then flicked over to Marco. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing,” Marco said smoothly. “Just catching up with my old friend here. You know Tredy Sales, right? Smart guy. Just… born in the wrong income bracket.”
Leira gave a tight-lipped smile. “Right. I remember him.”
Marco wasn’t finished. “In fact…” he pulled something from his pocket. “Let me help you out, bro.”
He held up a ₱100 bill and shoved it toward Tredy. “Go get yourself real breakfast. Maybe something better than street food?”
The crowd froze. Whispers stirred.
Tredy looked at the bill… then slowly took it.
Everyone watched.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll remember this moment.”
Marco laughed, arms wide. “See? He’s not proud, at least.”
But Tredy wasn’t done.
He reached into his old backpack and pulled out something shiny — the black titanium card from his inheritance. No logos, no bank name, just a solid black with gold lining.
Everyone around leaned in.
Tredy turned to Marco and held it up casually. “Oh, by the way… I’m actually heading to Royal Heights later. Thought I’d check out my new penthouse.”
Silence.
Marco blinked. “What?”
Tredy smiled, flipping the card through his fingers with practiced ease. “Also need to meet with a lawyer about some companies I recently came into. Boring stuff.”
Marco looked stunned.
Leira’s mouth dropped open.
Tredy slipped the ₱100 back into Marco’s pocket. “Keep this. I’ll consider it a gift from you — a reminder.”
He turned and walked away, leaving the crowd buzzing.
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Upstairs, behind a tinted glass window, a man in a dark suit was watching. The same man from Room 1508.
He made a call.
“He handled it well,” he said into the phone.
“Yes. Just like Don Emerico expected.”
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© Treloce Amaris
- Writer
