The last-minute summons from her father were becoming routine for Tiffany. One minute, she'd be in Liban; the next, she'd find herself in the city, standing in the bustling casino with a pounding headache and an irritated heart. Since becoming an Alpha assassin, her life had been a constant whirlwind of trailing targets and traveling at her father's every demand. Still, she couldn't complain—she'd chosen this life.
Bodyguards immediately closed in around her as she stepped out of the car her father had sent. They handled her baggage and led her inside the casino.
It was a Tuesday night—the busiest night of the week. Her father had once told her that Tuesdays were for business magnates and their "slutty mistresses." Tiffany didn't fully understand the logic behind that, but she knew it was some kind of VIP marketing strategy. Walking through the hall, she recognized the familiar faces of business elites, along with celebrities and starlets eager to climb the ranks, no matter what it took.
The building was massive. Her father used to say his love for her mother had inspired him to build the casino—a sentiment that made Tiffany cringe. She knew about her parents' romance: a classic arranged marriage orchestrated by the Alpha Council. She hadn't even been born out of love; her mother had been raped by the Don the night before their wedding. And his scum of a father had never denied any of it.
Sighing, Tiffany brushed the thoughts aside, removed her sunglasses, and handed them to her bodyguard along with her Versace coat. The sharp click of her red stilettos echoed as she approached her father's office.
She didn't bother to knock and was surprised to find her father being entertained by a half-naked young woman.
"Tiffany!" her father greeted her casually, as if her entrance was no disruption at all. The girl, however, jumped up and scurried for the powder room.
"Stop," Tiffany ordered, sizing her up with a smug smirk. The girl's gaze darted nervously from the Don to Tiffany.
"I recognize you. You're a model, aren't you?" Tiffany asked.
"Y-yes," the girl replied, flustered.
"Hmm…" Tiffany's gaze swept over the girl as she placed her hand on her lower back, sliding it down to her hips. "How old are you?"
"Twenty," the girl murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.
"Tiffany, darling. Just let the girl go—" her father began.
Tiffany raised her hand, silencing him. He muttered something in Spanish and decided to light a cigar.
"M-miss, this is making me really uncomfortable—"
Tiffany just laughed.
"Please, Don… Miss…"
"Oh, it's funny how you're embarrassed in front of me, but it doesn't bother you to sleep around with any rich scum who offers a 'side job,'" Tiffany sneered. "You're pathetic."
"That's enough!" the Don bellowed, his voice filling the room. "Go on, darling. My secretary will handle your fee… alright, I'll call you." He gestured to the tear-streaked girl, who quickly gathered her things and left, barely caring that she was still half-naked.
Once left alone with her father, Tiffany settled onto the couch, eyes full of disgust as she looked at him. He, on the other hand, paced the room and at a loss for words. The reaction made Tiffany smirk.
After a while, he decided to pour her a drink. "You shouldn't have done that," he said calmly. "She's one of my best girls."
"Best girls, my ass," Tiffany scoffed, downing the whiskey and feeling its burning sensation down her throat. "Why am I even here? You know Liban's far—"
"This is taking too long, Tiffany. I think it's time you understood the gravity of your situation in the Brotherhood. The Alphas are impatient—they want results, and they want them now."
Tiffany clenched her fists. "Otherwise, Yuan Lloyd Marquez takes the position. Right, Papa?"
The Don fell silent for a while. "So… you already knew."
"I'm not stupid," she shot back. "I know you don't trust me. I know you agreed to sabotage my mission."
"Dear," he said, reaching out to take her hand, but Tiffany only recoiled. Seeing her response, the Don settled to stand firmly in front of her. "Yuan has another mission at that school. Like you, he's on probation. Trust me, my dear, I'm doing what's best for you."
"No, Papa. I'm not a child anymore—your sweet talk doesn't work on me. We both know that none of this is for me."
She strode to the window, looking out at the city lights.
"You know how badly I wanted this. I've done everything for you—everything."
Her chest pounded heavily, her heart nearly bursting.
"You promised me. Assured me I was your heiress… Do you even remember what you did to me at sixteen?"
The Don looked briefly rattled, but he quickly composed himself. "Even if you prove everything, Tiffany, I can't make decisions based solely on you—the Brotherhood has a council. I… I shouldn't have given you false hope."
Without hesitation, a scream tore from her throat as she flipped the glass table near her. "You are a joke! A complete joke!!!"
"Tiffany! Stop it!"
But she didn't stop. Rage surged through her like an unstoppable storm. Heat burned in her chest, consuming her and making her skin feel tighter, as she trashed her father's office.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry, darling…"
She felt her father's arms wrap around her, but she broke free, tears streaking down her face. In that moment, she wanted to physically hurt him, to make him feel her pain.
"I hate you, Papa. You ruined my life—you ruined everything."
Breaking away from his grasp, she headed for the door. But halfway there, she stopped and looked back at him, who was still reeling from shock. "Remember," she said, "I'm not giving up. I will wait for the day that you will regret having to raise a little devil like me."