The Heiress

Tiffany Viaje Del Cargador stood before the Alpha Council, her face set like stone. The black cloak hanging to her ankles masked her body but couldn't shield her from the six pairs of cold, predatory eyes sizing her up.

She could see lust, disdain, and contempt as they stared at her. She felt them all, but she refused to flinch. Her father had told her this day would define her future. If she wanted a seat on the council-or to replace him-she had to prove she could stand against these men.

"Gentlemen of the Council," Don Alejandro, her father, began at the podium. His voice filled the room that was adorned with portraits of past leaders-billionaires turned gods of the syndicate.

"Today marks the 18th birthday of my only child, Tiffany Viaje Del Cargador, who will inherit all I own, including my seat in the Alpha Brotherhood."

The council erupted at their leader's announcement. Their overlapping voices tore through Tiffany's ears.

"Impossible! She's a woman!"

"No female has ever led this brotherhood!"

"Agreed! Besides, she's just a child!"

Tiffany clenched her jaw. She had expected this-a wall of rejection dressed in tradition and greed. These men didn't care about her accomplishments, only their power. Still, she stood tall and unafraid.

Don Alejandro raised a hand, silencing the outrage. "She is my blood. My heir. Written in the council agreement that if she fails her initiation, she will marry a man of the Brotherhood's choosing, and her husband will lead in her place."

The Don cast her an unsteady look before continuing his speech. "Unfortunately, Tiffany does not want that path. She is here to prove her worth as a leader."

Another councilman sneered. "Better to marry her off now. Perhaps one of our sons-"

"Or one of us!" someone cackled.

Tiffany's fury boiled over the men's nasty comments. "Enough!" She said. Her voice was steady, cutting through the room sharply. "I will not marry until I choose to do so. Besides, I was raised by the Don himself and trained my entire life for this moment. I am a Del Cargador, and our family always rules. Always. Even you, Alpha council, cannot take that from me."

A tense silence followed her declaration. Tiffany once again felt their intense gazes as she stood before them.

Finally, one councilman leaned forward. "If she wishes to lead, let her prove it."

"What's your proposal?" the Don asked.

"She will kill the leader of the Dragon Brotherhood."

Tiffany's brow arched. Of course, they would hand her their most impossible task-their enemy who had eluded them for years, but if these self-proclaimed titans of masculinity wanted her to do their dirty work, then be it.

"I accept," she said calmly. "But when I succeed, you will give me the loyalty and respect I deserve."

The council's grim expressions betrayed their unease, but her father spoke before they could object. "Then it's settled. The initiation begins."

Without any more objections, the Council passed a ledger, each member signing their name in blood. When it reached Tiffany, she pressed the pen into her finger, adding her mark without hesitation.

"Step forward," Don Alejandro commanded.

She climbed onto the platform under their watchful eyes. She could feel them appraising her, judging her every move. She hated these greedy, self-righteous men of the brotherhood, but she wouldn't falter. Today was just the beginning. She had plans for her father's legacy, and when the time comes, Tiffany will not be remembered by the shadows of this brotherhood or her father's wealth and influence. She would be so much more. But tonight, she had to be done with the initiation.

"We give nothing freely," her father said. "The council has spoken. Are you ready to accept your fate?"

"Yes, Papa," Tiffany smirked. "I always live by our family motto: 'We take what is ours'."

The council began to chant as her father drew a knife. He sliced both his palm and hers, their blood mixing as they clasped hands.

Her pain was fleeting-she had endured far worse at the assassin academy.

"Now, child, remove your cloak," her father ordered.

Without hesitation, Tiffany let it fall, revealing a thin garment beneath. She felt their eyes crawl over her but she remained unmoved. They would not be able to touch her here.

"Receive the seal," the Don instructed.

She knelt as two councilmen grabbed her arms, restraining her. A glowing iron brand was brought forward, its heat licking her skin before pressing into her shoulder.

Tiffany gritted her teeth, refusing to scream. 'It's just like getting a tattoo', she told herself, 'only without ink.'

"You are the heiress," her father declared as the brand seared her flesh.

Pain consumed her, stealing her breath, but she didn't cry out. Not for them. Not for anyone. But as the council's chants swirled in her fading consciousness, her father's cold voice cut through: "Now prove to us you won't die out there, little girl..."

Sunlight warmed Tiffany's face as she stirred from a deep, dreamless sleep. A sharp pain flared under her shoulder blade when she sat up too quickly.

"Fuck," she hissed, noticing her hand already wrapped in a linen bandage. Memories of the night before surfaced-her initiation, the seal, and the council's chants...

The ache was sharp, but it carried a strange sense of relief. She had made it. She was part of the brotherhood now.

"Morning, my girl," a familiar voice called. Startled, she turned to see her father lounging on the red couch across from her bed, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

"P-Papa," she stammered, scrambling to her feet to kiss his cheeks. "I didn't see you there."

"Your assistant, Elizabeth, dressed your wounds and changed you into your nightgown," he said, his thick accent of Spanish heritage wrapping around the words like a blade cloaked in silk.

Having him in her room felt unnerving, as always. Their relationship had never been simple, and she could feel the weight of his presence, the way his gaze lingered on her too long. She sat back on the bed, waiting for him to speak, her eyes drifting to the handmade curtains and the sprawling cityscape visible through her window.

"Congratulations again, hija (daughter)," he said, breaking the silence.

Tiffany forced a smile. "I passed out last night. After that speech... I'm sure you're disappointed." She said in a small voice.

"It's fine," he replied, his tone measured. "Getting the seal alone is difficult enough. Does it still hurt? The burn usually lingers for days."

Tiffany touched the fresh mark, the skin still tender. "Lying would be pointless."

"Take something for the pain," he said dismissively, sipping his tea.

She rose from the bed, standing before the mirror to inspect the brand on her shoulder. The raw, angry lines glistened in the morning light.

"I like it," she said, surprising herself. "It makes me feel like I carry a part of you."

Her father stiffened at her words but quickly regained his composure. Tiffany was used to his discomfort in moments like these when her affection for him slipped through. Sometimes, she even enjoyed making him squirm. She had always wanted to match his strength-determined to challenge him yet earn his approval. It was an obsession she had secretly nurtured in her heart.

When he finished his tea, he stood and approached her, brushing a calloused thumb against her cheek. "I know how much you look up to me," he said. "And I'm proud of you, my girl."

She studied his face, noticing the new streaks of gray in his hair. For a moment, he seemed older.

"You're the spitting image of your mother," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"She wouldn't approve of this," Tiffany said with a soft laugh.

"She's not here to weigh in anymore," he replied, his tone hardening as he walked to the table and retrieved a manila envelope. "You've made your choice. You're an Alpha assassin now. And because of that, I brought you something... This is your first mission."

Tiffany took the envelope eagerly, pulling out a photograph of a man in his thirties. She studied his chiseled features with a smirk. "He's good-looking," she teased. "Am I supposed to marry him?"

Her father chuckled, a rare sound. "If you'd chosen to marry one of the Alpha sons, we wouldn't have this conversation."

"Papa, you know I want to marry for love."

"You're a hopeless romantic," he said, shaking his head. "Love can still grow, even if it isn't there initially."

"Oh, spare me, Papa," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "So, who is he really?"

Her father's tone turned serious. "He's a threat... both to our business and to the brotherhood. This man is an assassin who is skilled at hiding. It took us years to track him down until we finally did. Now, it's your job to eliminate him for us."

Tiffany's pulse quickened. "And when I succeeded?"

"Bring his body to the council. Serve his head on a platter. Do that, and you'll take my place in the brotherhood."

She grinned. "Consider it done."

"Failure is not an option," he said gravely. "You have too much to prove and everything to lose."

"I don't fail, Papa. You know that."

"Everything you need is in that envelope," he said, heading for the door. "Study it. Then get packed."

The sudden urgency caught her off guard.

"You leave tonight for Southern Isla, in the Visayas. First, eat breakfast. Then prepare yourself."

With that, he exited, the door clicking shut behind him.

Once alone, Tiffany stared at the photograph again. The man's dark eyes seemed to look right through her. She sighed, muttering, "Poor bastard. The Alphas have already decided your fate... and mine."

Her gaze shifted to the window, the bustling city below a sharp contrast to the stillness in her room. Thoughts of her mother crept in. She wouldn't have wanted this life for Tiffany, but her father was right-she wasn't here anymore.

Tiffany folded the photograph carefully and tucked it back into the envelope. Whatever her doubts, one truth remained: she would do whatever it took to survive this mission.

SOUTHERN ISLA, VISAYAS

"Alright, everyone, settle down," Teacher Greg said, addressing his new advisory class. "Welcome back, seniors. I'm Gregor Lopez, but you can call me Teacher Greg."

The students watched him, some with curiosity, others with admiration. Even in his thirties, his charisma and clean-cut look were hard to miss, a fact the whispers in the room made apparent.

After a glance at the attendance sheet, he began calling names.

"Quinto, Charlotte."

"That's me," she replied, standing and flipping her hair. She winked at him, earning a stern look in return.

"Alright, for our first-"

A knock at the door cut him off. He turned to see a well-dressed woman entering, followed by a tall girl with a blonde pixie cut.

"Good morning," the woman said. "I'm Mrs. Rivera, and this is my daughter. I believe she's in your advisory class."

"So, you're the new student," Teacher Greg said, gesturing for them to come in. "The school told me you'd be joining us."

Mrs. Rivera gave her daughter a quick hug. "Good luck, sweetheart. I'll leave you to it," she said, turning to Teacher Greg. "What's your name again?"

"Teacher Greg."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Likewise, ma'am. I'll make sure your daughter is comfortable in her new school."

"I'm sure you will," Mrs. Rivera replied with a smile. He shook her hand before she left.

The new girl stood awkwardly by the door as whispers spread. Greg cleared his throat. "Come in," he said, motioning her to the front. She remained quiet as she walked ahead of him. "Please introduce yourself to the class."

The new girl smiled brightly, showing off her thin lips and straight, white teeth. "Hey, everyone! I'm Steffy Rivera from Manila. I'm half Filipino, half Spanish. Nice to meet y'all."

The boys leaned in, obviously captivated by her allure, while some girls-particularly Charlotte Quinto-looked unimpressed.

"Half Spanish!" one of the boys murmured. "I thought she was Korean."

A boy in the back raised his hand shyly. "Uh, my name's Brandon," he said, blushing. "You're very pretty."

The class erupted into laughter. Steffy only smiled. "Thanks."

"Why'd you transfer here?" Brandon asked.

"My parents' work brought us here, and I guess they didn't want me staying in Manila alone."

"So, what do your parents do?" another student asked.

Before Steffy could answer, Charlotte cut her off. "Are you even smart enough to be here?"

The room fell silent. Teacher Greg tensed-he already knew Charlotte's reputation as a bully.

"This is a Special Science Class," Charlotte added smugly. "You need to pass an exam to get in."

Steffy's smile faltered, but she stayed calm. "I didn't need to take the exam," she said evenly.

Charlotte scoffed. "Oh, really? So, you think you indeed belong here?"

"The principal himself placed me here," Steffy replied. "But if you want proof, I can show you my report card."

The class cheered, amused at her comeback.

"You think you're smarter than us?" Charlotte snapped, her face turning bright crimson.

"It's your word against mine," Steffy shot back. "But, like it or not, we're going to be classmates."

"You're such a bitch," Charlotte hissed. "How dare you-"

"Alright, that's enough," Teacher Greg cut in. "Charlotte, sit down now. Steffy, take a seat..."

He paused, noticing the lack of available chairs. Two boys in the back leaped up to grab an extra chair, tripping over each other in the process. Steffy gave them a grateful smile, making them blush even harder. Meanwhile, Charlotte sank into her seat, glaring daggers.

Teacher Greg could only sigh, already sensing this class would be eventful now that these two girls were placed together in his section.

***

As Steffy stepped out of the school gate, dark clouds loomed overhead. "Great, it's going to rain," she muttered, hands stuffed in her pockets, her leather bag hanging loosely by her side.

Her phone buzzed. Relief flickered when she saw the caller ID.

"Hola (Hello), Papa. Yeah, I'm here. I've already met the target. I did some digging. Would you believe he's one of the school's top employees? I'm still working on his schedule so I can-"

But he cut her off.

Steffy sighed, the familiar sting of disappointment settling in as she listened to her father's endless instructions.

"Alright, I'll update you in a few weeks," she said, ending the call.

Pushing her sour mood aside, she reminded herself of the mission: get close to the target, complete the job, and get out of this hellhole.

Just then, the first raindrops splattered against her skin. "Fucking hell?" she hissed under her breath.

"Language, Miss Rivera."

She spun around to see Teacher Greg approaching with a black umbrella. Her heart skipped a beat-'Damn it, not now!'

"What are you doing here, sir?" she asked flatly.

"It's raining, and you're without an umbrella," he said, stepping beside her.

"I didn't expect it to rain today," she replied.

"Neither did I, but I still came prepared," he said with a grin.

Steffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Humor me," he said. "I'll walk you to the waiting shed while you wait for your...?"

"My dad," she answered curtly.

"Good."

They walked in silence as the rain picked up. She became uncomfortably aware of the hand he rested on her shoulder.

"How long were you behind me, Teacher Greg? Did you overhear my call?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "No. Why? Worried I heard something about a boyfriend?"

Steffy flushed. "I don't have a boyfriend. Boys are stupid."

Teacher Greg chuckled. "Just teasing, Miss Rivera."

A few moments of silence passed between them.

"I heard your parents are engineers," he continued. "They're working on that new mall in the next town, right?"

"Indeed, you are a teacher. You sure ask many questions," she said, her tone sharp.

"It's normal to want to get to know my students."

"Sometimes it's best not to get too close," she muttered. "Push the wrong button, and I might stab you in the back."

Teacher Greg laughed. "That's quite an intense way to talk to your teacher."

"Just teasing, sir," she grinned, "no one's stabbing anyone."

When they reached the waiting shed, he handed her a handkerchief to dry her arms. "Thanks," she said begrudgingly.

"Why do I get the feeling you don't like me?"

"W-what?" Steffy stammered, caught off guard by his question.

"You're different outside class. In there, you're smart and respectful. Out here? You're... too guarded."

Steffy smirked. "I'm like this with all men, sir. Don't think you're special. Besides, I just met you."

"Fair enough."

They stood in silence, watching the rain. Her eyes wandered to the muddy puddles forming around them. Raised in luxury, she wasn't used to such grime but swallowed her complaints.

"So," Teacher Greg said. "How's your first day?"

"It's fine, I guess."

Just then, a sleek black pick-up truck pulled up, the window rolling down to reveal a burly man in the driver's seat.

"My dad's here," she said, quickly heading to the vehicle. "Thanks for the umbrella, sir. See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah..." the teacher replied. "See you tomorrow, Steffy." He smiled and nodded at the driver, who politely waved before the window rolled back up.

Inside the truck, Steffy was finally able to exhale a sigh of relief.

"Guy's got a thing for you, Miss," George, posing as her father, said with a smirk. "Be careful."

"Shut up, George," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "I don't like older men-or any men, for that matter."

"Me neither," George muttered. "Especially creeps like him. Fucking predators..."

"Don't worry about him," Steffy said, lighting a cigarette and blowing out a plume of smoke. Her lips curled into a cold smile. "They'll all be dead soon enough."