The air in Lolo Tenorio's study was thick with the smell of ozone and old paper. Maps were sprawled across the massive narra table, but they weren't topographic maps for hiking—they were heat maps of influence.
Lolo tapped a gnarled finger on a digital tablet. "The local soil is saturated," he wheezed, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on pavement. "To grow, we must transplant. The Tenorio name will not just be a whisper in Manila. It will be a shadow across the globe."
The "Grand Plan" was a surgical dissection of the family unit.
Stephen was assigned to the United States, overseeing the new acquisitions in Vegas and New York—fronts for a massive arms distribution network.
Matthew was headed to Paris, where the high-society gala circuit provided the perfect cover for "cleaning" international political messes.
Timothy would split his time between Korea and Taiwan, managing the digital infrastructure and the silent, high-tech "disposals."
Joie. Lolo's gaze locked onto her. "Thailand. The medical tourism there is the perfect veil. You will build the clinics that patch our people up—and the private wings where 'obstacles' are brought to disappear."
Joie felt the world tilt. Thailand wasn't just a flight away; it was a different life. It was the end of the train rides. It was the end of the quiet ramen shops.
Joie spent the next three days in a catatonic haze. She was standing on the balcony of the Blue Marlin, watching the sunset over Manila Bay, when her phone buzzed. It was Alliana.
"Joie," Alliana's voice sounded strange. Hollow. "I saw the news. The Tenorio Group announced a global expansion today. New branches in Paris, New York... and Bangkok."
Joie closed her eyes. She had forgotten how fast the business world moved. "Alliana, I... Lolo is sending us away. He's dying, and he's splitting us up. I'm going to Thailand."
There was a long, jagged silence on the other end of the line.
"When?" Alliana whispered.
"Next week."
"For how long?"
"I don't know," Joie admitted, a tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. "But I'll come back to visit. We can do long-distance. I can fly you out—"
"No," Alliana cut her off. Her voice was shaking now. "No, Joie. I can't. My ex... the person I loved before you? She moved to Canada. She told me we'd make it work, then one morning I woke up to a text saying she was at the airport. I spent two years waiting for a ghost to come home. I promised myself I would never be a 'placeholder' again."
"I'm not her, Alliana! This isn't my choice, it's my family—"
"That's the problem, Joie," Alliana said, and Joie could hear the tears now. "It's always your family. You live like you're a soldier in a war I can't see. If I stay, I'll just be waiting for a phone call that might never come."
"Alliana, please—"
"Don't come see me, Joie. If I see your face, I'll stay, and I'll end up hating you for leaving anyway. Let's just... let's end it here. While I still remember you as the girl who caught my bag."
Click.
The dial tone was the loudest sound Joie had ever heard. It was more final than the sound of a silenced pistol. It was the sound of her "human" life being severed by a 4G connection.
The Departure
The private hangar was cold. Stephen, Matthew, and Timothy stood by their respective jets, looking like a paramilitary unit disguised as billionaires.
Stephen walked over to Joie. He saw her red-rimmed eyes and the phone held in her hand like a dead bird. He didn't ask; Timothy had likely tracked the call duration.
"It's for the best, munchkin," Stephen said, pulling her into a stiff, suffocating hug. "People like us... we don't get to have 'anchors.' They just become targets."
"I hate this," Joie whispered into his expensive suit jacket. "I hate all of this."
"I know," Stephen murmured. "But you're a Tenorio. We don't cry over what we leave behind. We just conquer what's in front of us."
As Joie climbed the stairs to the jet headed for Bangkok, she looked back at the Manila skyline one last time. Somewhere in that city, Alliana was moving on.
Joie sat in the leather seat, opened her laptop, and began reviewing the "obstacles" she was expected to handle in Thailand. The screen blurred, but she didn't wipe her eyes. She just stared until the data became clear.