Chapter 8: The Tides Shift
467 Words
The skyline of Gran Santiago shimmered under the evening sun, but beneath the surface, power was shifting—slowly, silently.
At the Department of City Planning, Director Eduardo Valencia reviewed the report on his desk.
> “Salcor Holdings is a registered offshore firm,” the report read, “recently active in Gran Santiago. High liquidity. Multiple anonymous investments. Ownership hidden behind layers of legal protection.”
Eduardo tapped his pen. “Whoever this is… they’re no ordinary businessman.”
He picked up the phone.
> “Alert the mayor. Someone’s consolidating property in the heart of the city. And they’re doing it quietly.”
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Meanwhile, inside a nondescript lawyer’s office near City Hall…
Tredy sat across from Atty. Vasquez, scanning a map laid out on the table.
“This lot,” Tredy pointed, “used to be a parking facility owned by Villaridge Development, right?”
“Correct,” Vasquez replied. “It was supposed to be the entry point to their upcoming mall project.”
“And now it’s for sale?”
“An anonymous seller. Desperate for cash.”
Tredy smiled. “Buy it. I want full control. And make sure they don’t know who bought it.”
The lawyer nodded. “Consider it done.”
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On campus, Leira wasn’t herself.
She’d been asking around — quietly, casually — about Tredy Sales.
> “He used to be dirt-poor,” one student said.
“His mom’s a domestic helper in the Middle East,” another added.
“No dad. Always walked to school. Never had lunch sometimes.”
Leira couldn’t understand it.
> How does someone go from nothing… to this?
Later that day, she saw Tredy alone, reviewing a document under the shade of a tree.
She walked over. “You’ve become... quite the mystery.”
He looked up. “Or maybe I was always the same. People just never looked twice.”
She tried to read his expression but couldn’t.
“I want to understand you,” she said softly.
He paused… then stood. “Why now?”
She hesitated.
Before she could answer, he nodded politely. “Be careful what you’re curious about, Leira. Some stories don’t end the way you expect.”
He walked off again — calm, unreadable.
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Elsewhere, Marco Villanueva stared at a message from his family’s board of directors.
> “The property we needed for Phase 2 of the mall project has been purchased. Sale finalized this morning. Buyer anonymous.”
He stood, fists clenched. “Someone is dismantling us piece by piece.”
His father entered, grave-faced.
“Marco… we’re losing our grip. And we still don’t know who’s behind it.”
Marco looked toward the city skyline, voice low and bitter.
“I think I do.”
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© Treloce Amaris
- Writer
