I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 221: First Family Trip Part 1

No press. No team. No email alerts.

Just waves.

And them.

Angel slid into the passenger seat and adjusted her seatbelt carefully over her bump—still soft from recovery, but firm with the gentle evidence of motherhood.

Matthew started the engine and eased the car out of the garage.

It was happening.

Their first trip as a family of three.

—

7:10 AM — SLEX Southbound, Near Sta. Rosa Exit

Traffic was surprisingly light. The early hour had helped, and so far, Aurora had stayed blissfully asleep.

Angel sipped her second coffee and watched the sun creep up over the horizon, turning the edges of clouds gold.

Matthew drove in silence, both hands on the wheel, the faint sounds of soft jazz playing from the speakers. His eyes flicked to the baby mirror every few minutes, checking on Aurora without needing to say a word.

"This feels illegal," Angel joked eventually, breaking the quiet.

Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"Peace. This much peace should be illegal."

He laughed. "Give her thirty more minutes. She'll wake up the moment we hit a rough patch."

"Don't curse us."

They drove on.

The road blurred behind them, city giving way to green. The smell of soil and trees began to filter through the car's ventilation, replacing exhaust fumes and Metro Manila's familiar burnt-air musk.

Angel closed her eyes for a few minutes. Not quite asleep. Just resting.

Matthew glanced over, her profile soft against the morning light.

For a moment, he didn't feel like a CEO or a systems engineer.

Just a man with his family on the road.

And that was enough.

—

8:45 AM — Gas Station Stopover, Somewhere in Batangas

Aurora woke up exactly as prophesied—twenty minutes outside Solana, with an indignant wail that rattled the rearview mirror.

Angel was already halfway out the door, unbuckling her, while Matthew pulled into a clean gas station with shaded parking.

They settled on a corner bench near the mini-mart. Angel changed Aurora's diaper with tactical speed while Matthew offered her a bottle.

"Is this a pit stop or a layover?" Angel asked as she packed the wipes.

"Ten minutes, tops. Let's keep the rhythm going."

Aurora had different plans. She refused the bottle at first, demanded to be held upright, and then immediately spit up on Matthew's shirt.

He stared down at the mess and sighed. "So it begins."

Angel handed him a clean shirt from the overnight bag with the efficiency of someone who had planned for ten such scenarios.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back on the road.

Aurora, content and clean, dozed off again with her plush cat under her arm.

Matthew, now wearing a shirt with "Future Engineer" printed on the pocket—an old joke gift from Angel—settled back behind the wheel.

"You know," he said, "we're doing okay."

Angel looked at him. "You're only saying that because you survived your first spit-up."

"That too."

—

9:30 AM — Solana Bay Villa

The villa was perched on a low cliff that curved gently into a private cove, shielded from the main shoreline by rocky outcrops and tall coconut trees. White walls. Bamboo accents. Open air hallways that let in the sea breeze. The kind of place with no digital clocks—just fans, bookshelves, and silence.

Angel stepped out onto the terrace, Aurora in her arms, both of them barefoot.

The sea stretched wide in front of them—blue, endless, calm.

Matthew brought out their bags and placed them near the sliding door.

"I already love this place," Angel whispered.

Aurora gurgled in agreement.

Inside, the villa had been stocked with soft sheets, fresh fruit, and enough space to make it feel less like a hotel and more like an old friend's beach house.

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Matthew collapsed onto the living room sofa. "We made it."

Angel smiled. "We made it."

She walked to the edge of the balcony and let the wind rush over her face. Aurora, lulled by the breeze and the faint crashing of waves, leaned against her chest and closed her eyes again.

It was still morning.

They had a full day ahead.

And for once—it wasn't scheduled.

—

11:00 AM — Solana Bay Villa, Patio Hammock

Matthew rocked gently in the wide woven hammock, Aurora sleeping across his chest, his hand slowly patting her back. Angel sat on a nearby lounge chair with her legs stretched out, watching the sea through polarized sunglasses.

She sipped calamansi juice from a mason jar and scribbled quietly in a small notebook.

It wasn't work.

It was a letter.

To Aurora.

Not for today. Not even for this year.

But for someday.

She wrote about the road trip. About the soft sky and the sound of her daughter's first laugh somewhere outside Lipa. About how Matthew had bought a tub of taho at a toll gate and somehow spilled it on his lap without waking the baby.

She wrote about how they had needed this.

How sometimes, when life was too loud, the answer wasn't to push harder.

It was to breathe.

To drive south.

To hold the people you love.

She glanced up as Matthew adjusted his arm, whispering softly to Aurora as she stirred.

"We love you," he said.

It was simple.

But in the silence of the sea breeze and the steady creak of the hammock, it echoed louder than any city siren or speech ever could.