How I Became Ultra Rich Using a Reconstruction System-Chapter 206: Normal Afternoon Part 2

Timothy didn’t move. "Accept them."

"Under what conditions?" Hana asked.

He looked at her. "No branding. No influence."

Hana shook her head slightly. "That’s the ideal version. But if we’re going to accept donations, we need a framework. People will donate with expectations even if they don’t say it. They will want photos. They will want access. They will want to claim they were part of it."

"Then we deny them," Timothy said.

Hana tapped her pen against the folder. "We will. But we need to write it down. A public policy. Otherwise we’ll look inconsistent."

Timothy nodded once.

Hana continued. "We also need to decide how we treat corporate donations from third parties. Not TG subsidiaries. External companies."

Timothy’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, just calculation.

"Who’s asking," he said.

Hana didn’t smile. "Two banks. A property developer. A telecom company. And one overseas Filipino group in California."

Timothy exhaled through his nose. "The banks want optics."

"Yes," Hana said. "But some of the groups are real."

"Real doesn’t mean clean," Timothy replied.

Hana leaned back. "So what do we do?"

Timothy looked out the window again. Rain had thickened. The street below was darker now, reflections spreading across the pavement.

"We accept donations," he said. "But we set tiers. Small donations get thanked with a receipt and a report. Large donations go through full due diligence. If it’s tied to corruption, we reject it. If it demands branding, we reject it. If it demands access, we reject it."

Hana nodded slowly, already building the policy in her head.

"And," Timothy added, "no donation buys a project."

Hana wrote it down.

Silence came back for a few seconds.

Hana picked up the paper cup and pushed it closer to him. "Drink that before it gets cold."

Timothy took it. The coffee was plain. No sweet smell. No fancy label. He drank once and set it down again.

Hana glanced at his stack of documents. "You’re going through them fast."

"They’re not hard," Timothy said.

"They’re not hard," Hana repeated, "but they are endless."

Timothy didn’t argue. He opened another folder.

This one was titled: Scholarship Framework Draft.

He scanned the outline. Engineering. Science. Teaching support. Rural priority. Merit and need combined. Service return options. Internship pipelines.

Hana leaned forward. "That one is for later," she said.

"Why," Timothy asked without looking up.

"Because scholarships are political bait," Hana said. "The moment we announce them, every local official will claim credit. Every group will demand slots. Every influencer will try to game it."

Timothy turned a page. "So we do it quietly."

Hana nodded. "Yes. Quietly first. Pilot it small. Only announce when it’s stable."

Timothy looked at her. "You’re learning."

Hana snorted. "I learned a long time ago. You’re the one who keeps dragging us into the spotlight."

Timothy gave a faint, short breath that could have been a laugh if he let it.

Hana’s phone buzzed. She checked it and frowned.

"What," Timothy asked.

"Someone from the education committee," Hana said. "Wants to ’coordinate.’"

Timothy didn’t ask who. He already knew what that meant.

"Tell them to submit through the foundation office once it’s operational," he said. "Not through TG Tower."

Hana typed a reply and set the phone down.

"Are you sure you want the foundation to deal with that pressure on day one," she asked.

"Yes," Timothy said. "If we keep shielding it, it never learns to stand."

Hana watched him for a moment. "You’re talking about the foundation like it’s a person."

"I’m talking about structure," Timothy replied.

Hana stood and walked toward the window. She looked down at the traffic. The rain had turned the roads into a mirror. People moved under umbrellas. Guards stood under awnings. Cars edged forward like they were afraid of slipping.

"Do you ever think about stopping," she asked, still facing the glass.

Timothy didn’t answer right away. He looked down at the scholarship draft again. Then at the list of sites. Then at the procurement rules.

He stood and walked to the window beside her.

"No," he said.

Hana nodded once. Not approval. Just acknowledgment.

She turned back to the table, picked up her folder, and opened it again.

"All right," she said. "Then we need a public follow-up statement."

Timothy looked at her. "We already did the announcement."

"This isn’t another announcement," Hana said. "It’s a schedule. A simple one. People don’t trust speeches. They trust timelines."

Timothy stared at her, then nodded.

"Write it," he said. "Keep it short."

Hana started listing points on her paper as she spoke them out loud, testing the phrasing.

"Site evaluations continuing through the month," she said. "First twenty sites confirmed by end of November. Construction mobilization by early December. Quarterly transparency report by January."

Timothy listened and corrected one thing.

"No promises we can’t keep," he said. "Put it as targets."

Hana nodded and adjusted the wording.

She kept writing. Her pen moved fast. Timothy watched her work, then looked back out at the city again.

Traffic was still there. Rain still fell. Nothing outside looked different.

But the work on the table had weight. It would move money, people, materials, and time into places the government had ignored for years.

Hana finished her draft and slid it across the table.

Timothy read it without expression, then tapped the bottom line.

"This part," he said. "Remove it."

Hana leaned in. "Which part?"

Timothy pointed to a line about inspiring national hope.

Hana stared at him, then shook her head and crossed it out without argument.

"Better," Timothy said.

Hana sat back in her chair.

"So," she said, "we publish the follow-up tonight?"

"Yes," Timothy replied. "Then we go back to work tomorrow."

Hana looked at the stack of folders again like she could already see the next month.

"Fine," she said. "I’ll coordinate with comms."

She stood, picked up her folder, and moved toward the door.

At the threshold, she stopped and looked back.

"You know," she said, "this is the part people don’t see."

Timothy didn’t look up from the paperwork.

"Good," he said. "If they saw it, they’d try to interfere."

Hana opened the door and stepped out.

Timothy stayed standing for a moment, watching the rain slide down the glass.

Then he went back to the table, opened the next folder, and started reading again.