Chapter 192: Discussion of TG Foundation

October 18, 2029TG Tower, Executive Floor.8:10 PM

The executive wing was quiet by the time Timothy returned from the rural trip. Most offices were dark, and only a few staff remained scattered across the floor. The glass walls carried the reflection of the city outside. Manila looked busy and restless, but the room he stepped into felt still, as if waiting for something important to begin.

Hana was already seated at the long conference table. Her laptop was open, with several documents arranged neatly beside it. She looked up when Timothy entered.

"You are late," she said. "I assumed you stopped on the lower floors again."

"I needed a few minutes alone," Timothy replied. He placed his tablet on the table and sat across from her. "I could not get the school out of my head."

"The classrooms," Hana said, "or the children inside them."

"Both," Timothy said. He pulled up a photo. It showed a room with broken chairs stacked against one wall, a cracked chalkboard, and children sitting on uneven benches. "That building should have been replaced ten years ago."

Hana closed the folder in front of her. "You want to build something for them."

"I want to build something bigger than a repair." Timothy leaned forward. "I want a foundation. A real one. Not a publicity program. Not corporate social responsibility. A separate entity with its own board, its own budget, and its own mission."

Hana opened her notebook. "We can do that. But we need to define its functions before anything else."

"Education," Timothy said. "Primary education first. Underfunded public schools in rural provinces. Schools like the one we saw."

Hana wrote the words slowly. "So the foundation will rebuild facilities?"

"Yes," Timothy said. "Rebuild, expand, equip, and maintain. A school should not collapse because a community cannot fund repairs. A foundation can step in where government cannot."

She added more notes. "How will it operate? Grants? Direct implementation? Partnerships?"

"Direct implementation," Timothy said. "We design, we fund, we construct. If necessary, we partner with local governments. But the core work stays under us."

Hana nodded. "That means we need regional offices, engineering branches, procurement teams, and a separate financial unit."

"We will build all of that," Timothy said.

She paused before asking the next question. "And the funding source. One billion pesos from your personal account will not sustain long-term operations. School construction is expensive."

"I know," Timothy said. "That is why I want the foundation to have recurring income." He opened a new file on his tablet and turned the screen toward her. "One percent of annual net income from TG Mobility Holdings Inc, TG Semiconductor, and TG Energy Systems."

Hana frowned slightly as she processed it. "That is a large commitment."

"It needs to be large," Timothy said. "These companies will continue to grow. Semiconductor revenue will expand sharply in the next three years. Energy Systems will double once the nuclear sites become operational. Mobility Holdings will generate stable income from charging infrastructure, car sales, and fleet contracts. One percent of each company’s yearly earnings is enough to fund construction across the country."

Hana calculated quickly. "If combined net income reaches two hundred billion pesos in the long term, the foundation receives two billion yearly."

"Exactly," Timothy said.

"And that is separate from external donors?"

"Yes," Timothy said. "The foundation will also accept corporate and private donations. But the one percent rule ensures we never depend on outside contributions."

Hana made a new heading.

She wrote the numbers cleanly. The structure started to form on the page.

"This gives the foundation stability," she said. "No need to chase grants. No need to ask the government. It can plan decades ahead."


"That is the intention," Timothy said. "I want it to survive regardless of who is in office or what political climate exists. The foundation should continue even if the rest of TG Group collapses."

She paused at that. "You speak as if you are building something that must exist even without you."

"I am," Timothy said. "If it dies when I leave, then it is not a foundation. It is a vanity project."

Hana nodded slowly. "I understand."

She turned another page. "Now let us define its internal structure. We need an executive director. Someone who knows education policy and NGO management. Someone who does not freeze when facing local politics."

"We will find that person," Timothy said. "I trust your judgment."

"We also need a finance director, a legal team, an engineering department for construction oversight, and field coordinators for each province."

"Recruit them," Timothy said. "Begin confidentially. I do not want any public attention yet."

She listed the positions. "How do you want to choose the first provinces?"

"Regions with the worst infrastructure," Timothy said. "Not tourist provinces. Not areas with wealthy political families. True rural regions that have been ignored."

Hana folded her hands. "Then we will need to design an assessment model. We cannot rely on local officials alone. They will always push for projects that benefit their own barangays."

"That is why we need independent surveys," Timothy said. "Field teams must inspect every candidate school. Structural integrity, water access, classroom size, sanitation, teacher conditions, and electricity reliability. The school with the lowest score should be first."

Hana wrote each criterion. "This ensures we prioritize need, not influence."

"That is the point," Timothy said.

She looked at him for a moment. "You are doing this because of that child, aren’t you? The one who wrote on a piece of scrap wood?"

Timothy did not answer immediately. He remembered her small hands gripping the wood like it was normal. Like she did not expect better.

"That school was not an outlier," Timothy said. "There are thousands like it."

Hana continued writing. "Then let us address scale. How many schools for the first year?"

"Ten," Timothy said. "Five Visayas, three Luzon, two Mindanao."

Hana looked up. "That is ambitious."

"If we start small, we will stay small," Timothy said.

She added the target numbers. "We also need an operations charter. The foundation must be transparent. Regular audits. Public reports. Construction milestones."

"Yes," Timothy said. "Total transparency. I want every peso accounted for and published."

"That will attract donors," Hana said.

"Good. But donors are secondary."

Hana returned to her laptop. "We also need a name. You mentioned something at the river."

"The Horizon Initiative," Timothy said. "Because it is not about today. It is about every tomorrow that looks slightly better."

She typed the name at the top of a new document. "The Horizon Initiative. Foundation for Public Education and Community Development."

"That works," Timothy said.

The clock on the wall moved toward nine. The tower was nearly silent now. The city lights continued their restless movement outside, but the room felt steady and focused.

Hana reviewed everything they had built so far. "We should finalize the board composition. Seven members. Three from TG Group, including you. Four independent members from education, engineering, development work, and public policy."

"Yes," Timothy said. "We need a balanced board. No political appointees."

"I will begin drafting the charter tonight," Hana said. "Legal will need to prepare filings for nonprofit registration. We should have the documents ready in two weeks."

"Good."

She closed her notebook. "Tim. This foundation will change the education landscape if executed correctly."

"That is the goal," Timothy said. "Hydro plants, nuclear plants, semiconductor fabrication, electric buses. All of that is important. But if we do not invest in minds, we are only building for a country that cannot sustain itself."

Hana nodded. "Then let us build something that strengthens everything else."

Timothy looked out the window again. The skyline felt distant. The city thrived at night, but the barangays beyond its glow did not enjoy the same comfort.

"The Horizon Initiative begins today," he said.

"Then I will begin the work," Hana replied.

They both remained silent for a moment. The plans were no longer ideas. They had taken form. And the foundation that would outlive both of them now had a blueprint, a budget, and a clear mandate.

The meeting ended quietly, but the impact of that night would reach places neither of them had seen yet.