November 9, 2029
Taguig, BGC
TG Tower, 21st Floor
4:18 PM
Rain hit the glass in thin streaks. The kind that never fully commits to a storm but still makes the city slow down. Outside, BGC traffic crawled with headlights on, vehicles moving in short bursts, stopping again, then moving again like they were being dragged by a rope.
Timothy sat alone in the executive conference room, not because he needed the space, but because his office had turned into a routing hub. People came in too easily there. Here, the door stayed shut unless someone knocked.
A stack of folders sat on the table. Most had the same label: TG Foundation. Some were printed memos. Some were site reports. Some were just checklists.
He had already spent the morning on calls he did not want. Meetings he could not avoid. Statements that had to be approved in writing so they could not be twisted later.
Now it was late afternoon. The part of the day when people either slowed down or tried to catch up.
