Chapter 34: Taxes? No F Way!

Timothy shot up from his chair, phone in hand, heart thudding like a drum. For the first time since Jensen said "done," he wasn’t thinking about houses or cars or yachts. He was thinking about the Bureau of Internal Revenue and some smug government official cutting a chunk out of his empire before it even existed.He tapped frantically into his phone’s browser.

Search: "Philippines tax foreign wire transfer $8 billion"

The first result slapped him across the face: Large remittances and deposits above ₱500,000 are automatically flagged and reported to the Anti-Money Laundering Council (AMLC).

"Shit, ₱500,000? That’s just ten grand. I’m talking eight. Billion. Dollars!"

He scrolled further, his eyes scanning every word. Another line made him groan aloud: The Bureau of Internal Revenue (BIR) may classify incoming foreign transfers as taxable income if not proven otherwise. Donor’s tax, income tax, or capital gains tax may apply depending on documentation.

"Income tax? That’s thirty-something percent!" He slapped a palm over his face. "Do they seriously think they deserve two and half billion dollars for doing absolutely nothing? They’ll just steal it and buy SUVs and build mansions in Forbes Park."

Timothy leaned back against the wall, mind racing. If the money hit his BDO account, the government would not only notice, they’d probably freeze it "pending investigation." He could already imagine some fat bureaucrat in a barong, grinning while "processing fees" shaved billions away.

"No. Not happening. They’re not touching a single cents"

His thumb hovered, then typed another query.


Search: "How billionaires avoid taxes Philippines"

A dozen results. Blogs, legal advisories, shady forums. He opened one from a Manila law firm: Wealth management through offshore structures.

– Offshore corporations in the British Virgin Islands (BVI).

– Holding companies in Singapore or Hong Kong.

– Trust funds registered abroad to manage assets.

Another page talked about tax residency. If he parked his money offshore and only brought in what he needed for "living expenses," the BIR couldn’t touch the bulk of it.

Timothy bit his lip. "So I need a foreign account. Outside the Philippines. Where this government’s dirty hands can’t reach."

He scrolled deeper, ending up on a Reddit thread of all places: "How to avoid BIR stealing my money if I get rich?"

One commenter wrote: Don’t ever deposit life-changing money straight into a PH bank. Use Singapore, Switzerland, or Cayman Islands accounts. Open a holding company, let the funds flow through there, then only remit small amounts locally.

Timothy whispered, "Singapore..."

He searched again.

Search: "Open bank account Singapore non-resident"

The answer: possible, but usually required flying there, showing proof of funds, and a minimum deposit. Some banks wanted $200,000.

Timothy snorted. "Two hundred thousand? I’m about to bring in eight billion upfront."

But a problem lingered: NVIDIA would want a legitimate account to wire to. They wouldn’t transfer to some shady crypto wallet or "GCash." It had to be secure, traceable, and legal on their books.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. "Okay, okay... strategy."

Step one: don’t let the money touch the Philippines.

Step two: set up an offshore holding.

Step three: maybe register a company abroad—Delaware, Singapore, or even Dubai.

He kept scrolling, pill-enhanced focus cutting through the jargon. Articles said wealthy individuals often used shell companies—on paper, the company received the funds, not the person. That way, tax applied in the jurisdiction where the company was based, often at much lower rates.

Timothy exhaled. "So if NVIDIA wires to a Singapore company account I own... no Philippine tax. Clean. And if I need pesos? I just ’loan’ myself money from the company."

The plan was forming. Risky, but clear.

He opened another tab.

Search: "Philippines AMLA $8 billion wire transfer"

The page made his gut twist again. Transactions of ₱500,000 or more are automatically reported. Suspiciously large inflows may be frozen pending investigation.

He cursed louder. "Frozen? Imagine it—twenty billion dollars stuck in limbo while some senator asks where I got it. No fucking way."

His eyes darted to the black case under his bed, the prototype still humming faintly in his imagination. That card had put him in this position. But the money wasn’t his yet. One wrong move and it could all be seized before he touched a cent.

He scrolled again, fingers flying.

Search: "Singapore trust fund billionaire safe"

The article explained: wealthy families often set up trusts in Singapore or Switzerland. The trust technically owned the assets, shielding them from local governments. Beneficiaries—like Timothy—just received controlled disbursements.

"That’s it..." he muttered. "If I put it in a Singapore trust, they can’t touch it. I only bring in what I want."

But another problem clicked. How would he explain to NVIDIA? They were expecting him to provide bank details. If he gave them a BDO account, the government would pounce. If he gave them a Singapore account, they’d need proof he even had one.

"Which means... I need to set it up before signing."

Timothy rubbed his chin. That meant another trip abroad. Maybe not the U.S. this time. Singapore was close, just a few hours by plane. He could do it quietly, tell his mom he was attending a "conference."

For the first time since the number 20,000,000,000 landed on his desk, Timothy felt something other than excitement. He felt hunted. Like sharks were already circling the blood in the water.

He opened his Notes app and started typing furiously:

Plan:

– Don’t use BDO or any Philippine bank.

– Open offshore account in Singapore (DBS, UOB, or HSBC).

– Register shell holding company if needed.

– Wire funds there.

– Only remit small amounts home for expenses.

He paused, staring at the list.

"This is insane... I’m still a freshman, and now I’m planning offshore tax evasion."

A laugh slipped out, shaky and bitter. He shook his head and muttered, "No... not evasion. Protection. They don’t deserve a single dime out of it. Okay, shell company it is."

He dropped his phone on the bed and lay back, staring at the cracked ceiling.

From Tondo, squatter alleys and rusting rooftops. To planning offshore banking like some billionaire tycoon.