Crown of the Empire

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The boardroom in our Makati HQ always smelled faintly of imported leather and panic. The kind of panic men tried to hide under too much cologne and polished shoes. I'd gotten used to it in just a month of ME Bank's launch, but today it was especially pungent.

Maybe it was because the numbers flashing across the LED screen were so absurd even I had to pause for a moment. One million app downloads in less than a week. Deposits exceeding projections by four hundred percent. The kind of growth that would make Wall Street blink twice.

And yet, the men around me still acted as though they were running a provincial savings cooperative instead of the fastest-growing bank in Asia.

"Madam Chairwoman," one executive began, voice hesitant, "we've... well, we've had to suspend new account openings in Davao for forty-eight hours. The servers couldn't handle the traffic."

I set my pen down deliberately. "Servers," I repeated, letting the word drip with disdain. "Let me get this straight. We're not even two weeks old, and you've managed to underestimate the single most predictable thing in banking: demand. What exactly do you think banks do? They hold money. People give us money. And yet, here you are, shocked that people lined up to give us theirs."

Silence. Beautiful silence. The kind that said they know they're screwed, but they're praying I'll stop talking.

I didn't.

"You all sat here during our projections," I continued, my tone as calm as if I were discussing the weather. "You heard me say that customers would come in droves, not just out of necessity but out of symbolism. People don't just want a safe bank. They want this bank. Mine. The bank built from rebellion, from tearing down the old guard that failed them. And yet..." I gestured at the screen, "you still budgeted for mediocrity. I should fire all of you, just to make a point."

A nervous chuckle escaped one of them. I pinned him with a look so sharp he choked on it halfway.

Finally, one braver soul cleared his throat. "With respect, Madam Chairwoman, no one expected such aggressive growth. Even top analysts predicted—"

"Analysts," I cut him off. "Are these the same analysts who swore Vergara Banking was untouchable? Who wrote glowing reports while my father buried depositors under debt and bled them dry with fees? Forgive me if I don't consider them prophets."

That shut him up.

I stood, heels clicking against marble, and walked to the window. Makati spread out below me like a glittering chessboard. The skyscraper across the street still bore the fading letters of Vergara Banking on its top floor. How poetic, that I could see its corpse every time I looked outside.

"This," I said quietly, but my voice carried, "is why I own thirty-five percent of this bank. Why my mother, in her wisdom, made sure I would never be powerless, no matter how much my father wanted to erase me. I don't deal in excuses. I deal in numbers. So fix your servers, double the capacity, triple it if you must. Because if I see another headline about 'ME Bank Crashes from Too Much Demand,' I will personally make sure you crash harder than the servers you failed to upgrade."

"Yes, Chairwoman," came the chorus.

Better.

When I sat again, my phone buzzed with a news alert. I didn't need to open it to know it was another nail in my father's coffin.

Vergara Banking Hit with ₱10 Billion Lawsuit Over Mishandled Depositor Funds.

I opened it anyway, just for the satisfaction.

It detailed everything: the angry depositors, the court filings, the politicians scrambling to distance themselves from my father. The article even quoted one senator saying, "Perhaps it's time for new blood in Philippine banking. ME Bank represents hope."