Chapter 4: Silent Purchase
387 Words
The neon glow of Netzone Café flickered as students shuffled in and out, some logging in for all-night gaming, others for last-minute assignments. It used to be Tredy’s second home—well, second job.
Behind the counter stood Ate Glenda, the café owner. Mid-fifties, glasses always slipping down her nose, heart twice as big as her business.
“Tredy?” she said in surprise as he walked in. “You visiting? Thought you finally escaped this place.”
“I missed the smell of instant noodles and slow Wi-Fi,” he grinned.
She chuckled. “Sit. I’ll get you free coffee. You still like it black?”
“Always.”
As she moved behind the counter, Tredy glanced around. The place was exactly as he remembered—tired chairs, humming CPUs, peeling posters.
But now… it could be his.
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Earlier that day, he had met with his newly assigned corporate lawyer, a soft-spoken man named Atty. Vasquez.
“Netzone Café?” the lawyer asked. “That’s a very small business, Mr. Sales.”
“I know,” Tredy said. “But it matters to me. I want to buy the property… and keep Ate Glenda as manager.”
The lawyer raised an eyebrow. “Shall I list the purchase under a shell company?”
Tredy nodded. “Yes. I want it quiet. No one must know it's me.”
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Back at the café, Ate Glenda handed him his coffee. “Funny thing—some investor called last night. Said they were buying the whole building. Cash deal. Crazy, right?”
Tredy sipped his coffee with a smile. “Small world.”
She sighed. “I just hope they don’t kick us out.”
“They won’t,” he said. “They probably admire your work.”
She gave him a puzzled look, but he just smiled.
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Meanwhile, across town…
Marco Villanueva slammed his laptop shut.
“Why the hell are my father’s projects getting frozen?”
His father’s construction company, Villaridge Development Corp, was suddenly facing delays. Permits revoked. Funding reevaluated. A silent investor had started buying up shares from their partners.
“Who’s doing this?” Marco barked into his phone.
No answer.
But the chessboard was shifting—and Marco didn’t even know he was already a pawn.
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© Treloce Amaris
- Writer
