Disclaimer: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.

The Tan Holdings Headquarters' 50th level was typically a location of high-stakes judgments, crisp suits, and the intimidating smell of "Old Money." For many years, the sound of Zayrius Tan's leather shoes clicking on the marble floor was the only thing that could make a senior vice president start to perspire.

But today, the clicking was replaced by a frantic, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of tiny light-up sneakers.

"Catch me, Ernesto! You're too slow! Your flight path is inefficient!" a high-pitched, imperious voice echoed through the executive corridor.

The reception desk was streaked by a tiny black-and-white blur. Five-year-old Zenrius "Zen" Tan was a genetic duplicate of his father. Even at five years old, he had a "grumpy" resting countenance that may prevent a merger. He also shared the same stubborn jawline and keen, Chinito eyes. With a "Captain" patch and a little, gold-rimmed pair of aviators perched atop his untidy dark hair, he was clothed in a miniature facsimile of a pilot's flight suit.

Behind him, Ernesto—the former "Logistics Coordinator" who had long ago been promoted to Head of Security—was huffing, his Barong slightly wrinkled. "Young Master Zen, please! Your mother is in the middle of the quarterly audit! We cannot enter the boardroom!"

Just in front of the enormous mahogany double doors, Zenrius skidded to a stop. His tiny arms were folded across his chest, and his face furrowed into a frown so similar to Zayrius' that a passing secretary practically dropped her tablet in disbelief.

"My mother is the Chief Audit Officer," Zen declared, his voice ringing with a terrifying amount of authority for someone who still needed help opening juice boxes. "I am here to check the discrepancies in the cookie distribution. It is a matter of corporate urgency."

The Boardroom Invasion

Elizien Tan was in the middle of a sentence inside the boardroom, aiming a laser at a complicated graph that displayed the expansion of their foreign routes year after year. The wedding band on her finger and the occasional gentle smile she exchanged with the man seated at the head of the table were the only things that softened her piercing professional edge. She looked stunning.

Zayrius was watching his wife with the same fierce, possessive devotion he had shown since the day they met. He was the Chairman, the Dragon, the man who owned the sky—but to the woman at the podium, he was just the man who forgot where his socks were every Tuesday.

Suddenly, the doors burst open.

"AUDIT INSPECTION!" Zenrius shouted, marching into the room with his chest puffed out.

Some of the Philippines' most influential individuals, the twenty directors, froze. They observed as their boss, a five-year-old self, strode directly to the head of the table. Zen avoided glancing at his mom. He headed directly for Zayrius.

Zen said, "Dad," tapping his small watch. "You are four minutes late for our flight simulation. This is a clear violation of the family flight plan."

The room held its breath. A SWAT unit would have removed anyone else—literally anybody on the planet—out of a Tan Holdings board meeting if they had interfered.

Zayrius cast his gaze to his son. The frightful "Dragon" mask dissolved rather than simply cracking. Zayrius' face lit up with a slow, smug smile. Reaching down, he picked Zenrius up and placed him directly on top of the conference table made of obsidian.

"He's right," Zayrius addressed the board, his voice deadpan. "The boy has a point. The logistics of the simulation are paramount. Elizien, what does the Chief Audit Officer say?"

Elizien tried and failed to look serious as she leaned on the platform with a hand on her hip. "I say that the Junior Captain is currently sitting on a confidential report regarding the Cebu port expansion. Zen, honey, move your light-up shoes off the balance sheet."

"It's okay, Mom," Zen said, picking up a gold-plated fountain pen and scribbling a giant 'X' over a projected loss column. "I fixed the numbers. We are now in the green. Can we go now?"

The room was filled with a tense titter. "He truly is Zayrius 2.0. Even the way he holds the pen is the same," muttered one courageous director.

The Mess in the Office

The meeting was, predictably, adjourned. No one argued with a 5-year-old Dragon.

After an hour, Zayrius' private office appeared to be in ruins. The "Chairman's Desk" had been transformed into a paper airplane landing strip. In the credenza, Zenrius had found the "Secret Stash" of expensive chocolates. He was now "auditing" them by taking one bite out of each one and returning it if it wasn't dark chocolate.

"He's exactly like you," Elizien groaned as she entered the office and saw Zayrius sitting on the floor, assisting Zen in creating a hangar out of legal documents worth millions of pesos. "He's moody, he's obsessed with schedules, and he's already trying to fire the janitor for improper floor-waxing techniques."

"He didn't fire him," Zayrius defended, looking up with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He just suggested a more aerodynamic mop-path. The boy has a vision, Elizien."

Zenrius' chocolate-smeared face was serious as he looked up from his paper airplane. "Mom, Dad says I can have my own plane when I'm six. Is that in the budget?"

Zayrius immediately became quite interested in a paper wing, and Elizien gazed at him. "Zayrius! You promised him a plane?"

"A small plane," Zayrius muttered. "A trainer. For the backyard."

"We live in a penthouse!"

"I'll buy the lot next door," Zayrius said plainly as he got to his feet and embraced Elizien. He disregarded the fact that their youngster was writing "APPROVED" on the back of his own hand using his Chairman's stamp at the moment.

Zayrius leaned down, his forehead resting against Elizien's. The heat between them hadn't faded; if anything, the years had only added a deep, comfortable weight to their passion. "He has your heart, you know," Zayrius whispered. "He pretends to be a Dragon, but I saw him crying yesterday because a butterfly had a broken wing."

"And he has your eyes," Elizien said, encircling his neck with her arms. "And your stubbornness. And your ability to make me feel like I'm the only person in the sky."

"Look! I'm flying!" Zenrius shouted, jumping off the sofa and landing in a pile of pillows.

They observed their son—the result of a scandal, a storm, and an unstoppable love. Zenrius was the ideal combination of the "Accountant" and the "Pilot"—a young man with a keen intellect and a lofty spirit who would eventually rule the empire.

As the sun set over Manila, casting long shadows across the office, Elizien realized that her life's ledger was finally, perfectly balanced. The "Tower" hadn't just fallen; it had been rebuilt into something stronger, something that could weather any storm.

"Ready for the flight home, Captain?" Zayrius asked, picking up Zenrius with one arm and tucking Elizien against his side with the other.

"Ready," she said, looking at the two Dragons in her life. "But only if we can stop for Jollibee on the way. The Junior Captain has been 'auditing' my fries in his head for the last twenty minutes."

Like his father, Zenrius pouted, his bottom lip protruding. "I have not!" he said. "I was merely projecting the salt-to-potato ratio!"

Zayrius laughed, a sound of pure, unmitigated joy that echoed through the halls of the empire he had built and the family that had finally made it a home.