Danielle shifted the truck into gear, the weight of the cards resting on the passenger seat a constant reminder of the tasks ahead. First things first, she thought, glancing at the rearview mirror. Her to-do list was longer than she cared to admit, but the next item was clear: a trip to the banks.
As she drove, her mind wandered—thoughts of the cards, their intended uses, and what they meant swirling around her. I need to get clear on everything. Better to be safe than sorry.
Traffic wasn't too bad, so she had time to plan. At a red light, she quickly pulled up the details for the two banks—BPI and BDO—she needed to visit. I can't keep guessing. I need answers. She had already skimmed through the bank info earlier, but everything still felt fuzzy.
The light turned green. She cruised through familiar streets, organizing her thoughts: first stop, BPI. Then BDO. And if she was lucky, maybe some clarity on the third card too.
This isn't just about me anymore. The thought hit her harder than expected. Leo's future, my footing, this job—it's all tangled up in these decisions.
She parked, scooped up her bag, and stepped out with Leo in tow. The BPI branch stood neat and air-conditioned like every other financial fortress she'd ever stepped into.
Inside, she approached the queue machine and tapped the screen. A receipt printed with her number—A031.
Here we go.
She led Leo to an empty row of cushioned chairs. As they sat, a small boy in a yellow shirt with dino patterns peered curiously from the next seat.
"Hi!" Leo said in her usual chipper tone, tilting her head. "What's your name?"
The boy blinked, then grinned. "I'm Rian. What's yours?"
"Leo! Like the lion. I'm five!"
Danielle smiled softly. Leo had a way of cracking even the stiffest waiting rooms. The two kids were instantly absorbed in animated conversation—first names, then favorite games, then bold declarations about owning pet dragons.
"We're here to ask about some cards," Leo said seriously, as if it were a matter of national importance.
Rian nodded solemnly. "My mama's talking about money stuff too."
Danielle chuckled to herself. They always know more than we think.
As the kids discussed Roblox and lions, a pleasant voice from behind caught her attention.
"I'm sorry—I think I heard my son talking about his YouTube channel."
Danielle turned and saw a woman about her age, a little younger perhaps, with a tailored blouse and hair neatly tucked behind one ear. She carried herself with that quiet kind of power you don't notice until it's already settled in.
"I'm Allyza Lou Uy," she said, offering her hand. "Rian's mom."
Danielle shook it. "Danielle. And that's Leo. "
Allyza smiled knowingly. "They're adorable together. Rian doesn't usually warm up to people so quickly."
"Leo either. She must like his dinosaur shirt."
They both laughed lightly. It was easy, natural. For a moment, it felt like just two parents passing time in line. Danielle leaned back slightly, always half-alert. Friendly. But something about her is... sharp. Polished.
Suddenly, a staff member appeared at the front with a polite nod.
"Ma'am Danielle? This way please."
Danielle stood, blinking. The staff member wasn't pointing toward the teller booths—but toward the hallway near the manager's offices.
That's odd.
"You're welcome to bring your daughter," the staffer added with a smile.
She glanced back at Allyza, who offered a small nod. Okay... that's definitely odd.
Leo gripped her hand excitedly as they followed the staffer past the usual booths and into a sleek, glass-partitioned room. Inside was a polished desk, a single orchid in a vase, and the branch manager already standing.
"Ms. Danielle," the manager said warmly. "Thank you for coming in. Please, take a seat."
Danielle settled in, Leo beside her swinging her legs from the upholstered guest chair.
"I understand you've received one of our executive cards issued via Horizon?"
Danielle handed the card across. "Yes. And two others from different banks. I just want to understand their purpose—and my responsibilities."
The manager nodded, inputting a few quick keystrokes.
"This BPI card is an executive tier, corporate-backed account. It was arranged through Horizon Holdings. While it doesn't carry a personal liability clause, it's tied directly to your designation within the company. It can be used for professional or business-related expenses, subject to internal audit."
Danielle's brow creased. "So, no strict cap... but full oversight?"
"Exactly. Think client meetings, travel, corporate tools. Even groceries and personal clothing is allowed with discretion as most execs are prone to business meetings and alike. Companies generous enough to give this perk to directors are rare these days."
Leo whispered beside her: "We're not buying candy with it, huh?"
Danielle chuckled. *"No, sweetie. No candy cards."
The manager continued, "Additionally, Horizon has pre-arranged a payroll debit account under your name. It's issued through us, with the intention of separating salary disbursements from executive privileges. We can issue the card today if you like."
Danielle tilted her head. Separate account. Less entangled with my personal funds. Cleaner. Easier.
"Yes. I'll take it. I'd rather keep things clean."
"Of course. We'll process it now. Should only take a few minutes."
As they stepped out of the office ten minutes later, Danielle holding a new envelope in one hand and Leo's fingers in the other, she spotted Rian waiting in the lobby again—eyes lighting up as he saw Leo.
"Leo!" he called, waving both arms like a marooned pirate.
Leo let go of Danielle's hand and ran back toward him. "We saw the inside of the bank! It was like a big boss office!"
The two resumed their play like no time had passed, now pretending the waiting area was a vault they had to break into.
Allyza reappeared nearby, juice box in hand and phone tucked under her arm.
"Glad to see the bank didn't swallow you whole," she said, offering a light smile.
Danielle smirked. "Almost. But they gave me a card, so I guess it's a trade."
They stood side by side for a moment, watching the kids zoom around pretending to ride invisible minecarts.
Allyza's voice dropped just a hint. "You handled that well. Not everyone gets taken to the manager's office on their first visit."
Danielle turned slightly. "Yeah, I was always the booth type."
Allyza gave a soft shrug, not quite denying it. "hmmmmm"
Okay. Definitely not just a parent in line.
Horizon. The third card. So she knows more than she's letting on.
Danielle exhaled. "Alright. You win. Let's trade numbers."
They swapped details quickly, Allyza scribbling hers onto a receipt with surprising grace.
"I'll text you later. We can set a playdate—or coffee, if you ever want to complain about corporate perks."
Danielle smiled, a real one this time. "Yeah. I'll take you up on that."
Leo came bounding back, hair slightly askew, cheeks flushed.
"Mama, Rian says he wants to build a giant bank in Minecraft! Can we play later?"
Danielle looked at Allyza. Allyza smiled.
"Looks like the kids already made up their minds."
As they stepped out of the bank together, cards in hand and new ties quietly forming, Danielle couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. A new job, new accounts, and now… maybe even a new ally.
Little did she know, she had just gained a new friend. And not just any friend—a powerful one at that.
The afternoon sun had shifted, casting long shadows across the pavement as Danielle steered the truck into a tighter lot downtown. The BDO branch here felt different—more clinical, less family-friendly. Leo, in the passenger seat, was still replaying her little exchange with Rian, humming to herself as Danielle parked.
One bank down. One more to go.
Danielle slid the BDO envelope into her bag and reached for Leo's hand.
"Come on, sweetie. One last stop."
"Do you think Rian's gonna be there too?" Leo asked hopefully, eyes scanning the sidewalk.
"Not this time, baby." Danielle smiled. "This one's just boring grown-up stuff."
---
Inside, the BDO branch buzzed with activity. No friendly chatter here—just the sterile rhythm of clerks typing, ID scanning, and numbers being called in monotone over the PA. Danielle scanned the queue screen, noting her turn was a while off. She took a seat with Leo beside her, offering her a snack from her tote to keep her busy.
She pulled out the BDO card, flipping it in her hands. Still Horizon. Still vague. Let's see what this one's about.
When her number flashed, Danielle stood and approached the counter. A well-groomed teller greeted her.
"Good afternoon, Ma'am. May I help you?"
"I'm here to ask about a corporate card that was sent to me. Issued by BDO, under the name Horizon Holdings."
The teller nodded and took the card from her, running it through the terminal. A few moments passed, filled only with the soft clicks of typing.
"Yes, this is an executive card tied to a corporate-level account. It was requested under Horizon Holdings with your name officially designated as account holder."
Danielle blinked. "So—I'm the primary holder? Or am I just authorized to use it?"
"You are listed as the primary," the teller confirmed. "As an executive. Horizon usually provides these cards for directors or higher. It's fully integrated with business-class privileges."
Danielle's brow furrowed. Director? Nobody ever used that word with her—not officially. Axel had said something vague about "trust" and "autonomy," but not director.
"Can you confirm what this card is intended for?"
The teller hesitated slightly. "We recommend checking with your corporate liaison for specific usage policies. But generally, this level of card is used for work travel, client meetings, operational costs, and discretionary executive expenses."
"Discretionary?" Danielle echoed, voice low.
"Correct. As long as it fits within your corporate guidelines, there's a wide allowance."
So basically, don't mess it up.
"Is there a spending cap?"
"Executive-tier cards like this typically don't have preset limits. However, activity is monitored by the corporate controller or CFO level."
Danielle gave a slow nod, trying not to let her face show the churn happening in her brain. So this was the kind of power Horizon was quietly placing in her hands. High trust. High risk. And all roads, it seemed, led back to Axel.
"Thank you for the information," she said, tucking the card back into her wallet.
As they stepped back into the golden drift of late afternoon, the air outside BDO felt heavier than it should've. Danielle blinked against the light, head still wrapped around corporate cards, executive titles, and the ever-growing reach of Horizon.
But a smaller voice pulled her back to earth.
"Mama?"
She glanced down. Leo had tilted her head up, that unmistakable glint in her eyes—mischief, charm, and a very specific craving.
"Can we go eat dumplings? Pleaaaase?" Leo clasped her hands together in mock prayer. "The ones with the tiny soup inside! My favorite!"
Danielle blinked, caught off guard by the sudden switch in energy. She followed Leo's gaze past the traffic, toward the wide stretch of Ortigas skyline just a few blocks away. SM Megamall wasn't far. And to be fair... dumplings sounded damn good right now, also kaninong anak to! Aba dati siomai siomai lang tayo ha!.
She cracked a smile, the weight in her chest easing just slightly.
"You mean xiao long bao?"
"Yes! Yes that!" Leo was practically bouncing now. "And I'll be good the whole time. Promise."
"You were already good, baby." Danielle reached out to ruffle her hair. "And you've earned a whole tray of dumplings for that."
Leo gasped. "Even the fried ones? The crispy ones with the bouncy shrimp inside?"
Danielle laughed, the first real one in hours. "Let's not get carried away, boss. But yeah. Fried, soupy, bouncy shrimp—your pick."
With that, they crossed the street back to the truck. The traffic was thick, but the thought of dinner—of dumplings and iced tea and Leo's animated chatter—suddenly made the mess of corporate cards and hidden bank ties feel like something she could hold off dealing with just one more evening.
She turned the key, engine rumbling back to life. As they pulled into the Ortigas grid, the lights of the city began to flicker on—one by one.
And maybe, just maybe, things weren't unraveling.
Maybe they were falling into place.
They had just pulled out of the BDO parking lot when the full view of Ortigas traffic unfolded before them. Brake lights stretched across lanes like constellations in a gridlocked sky. Danielle eased off the accelerator and shifted the truck into idle.
Stuck.
But for once, she didn't mind.
Her eyes followed the curve of EDSA, and for a brief moment, the skyline blurred into memory.
Years ago, this road was her gauntlet.
Back then, there was no Leo in the backseat. Just her, a backpack full of rolled-up site plans, and a secondhand phone that barely held charge. She lived in a small walk-up in Quezon City—shared with two roommates who cooked with garlic at 5 a.m. sharp—and every weekday started with a race: down four flights of stairs, past the tricycle queue, wedging herself into a jeepney already full, and praying the MRT didn't stall again.
Two hours to BGC. On a good day.
And then eight hours on her feet at the site—safety boots, hard hat, the sun like a punishment, the foreman second-guessing her designs because she was "too young to know rebar."
Then two hours back. Sometimes longer, if the trains were down.
She remembered falling asleep on a bus once and waking up three stops too far, dragging herself home and eating noodles on the floor because she was too tired to sit at the table.
No family nearby. No fallback plan. Just grit. And guilt.
Why are you doing this? she'd ask herself, sometimes staring at the ceiling fan, too wired to sleep.
Because she wanted more. Because she knew she could.
Now here she was. In a truck with leather seats. A laptop bag in the back. Executive cards in her wallet. And a daughter in the booster seat, flipping through a kid's menu even though they weren't inside the restaurant yet.
She looked at Leo. Already comfortable. Already expectant. Already safe.
Danielle exhaled. You'll never know what it's like to time your life around a train schedule, baby. Not if I can help it.
"You'll never have to do that," she said softly. "No train crowds. No four-hour commutes. No praying the MRT doors close in time."
Because Danielle had climbed out of that chaos. Alone. And now, she had every intention of keeping Leo far from it.
Horizon will need me until I say otherwise. And when I leave, it'll be on my own terms—with everything we need in place.
A honk behind her broke the trance. The light had turned green.
"Let's get those dumplings," she said, nudging the truck forward.
"Yay!" Leo beamed from the back. "I want the crispy ones and the soup ones and the ones with the orange fish eggs—"
Danielle chuckled, letting the city lights reflect across the windshield. In a world spinning with cards, responsibilities, and veiled alliances, this—this small joy—was her compass.
She wasn't surviving anymore.
She was designing a life.