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Chapter 8 - The Secret Pipeline

Three years had passed, and the humidity of Bangkok had become Joie's permanent skin.

At twenty-three, the "Iron Sister" was no longer a nickname—it was a medical fact. Joie sat in her high-rise apartment overlooking the Chao Phraya River, the floor-to-ceiling glass providing a panoramic view of a city she lived in but never truly saw. Her life was a sterile loop of Advanced Pathology textbooks, surgical rotations at an elite private hospital, and the "Main Work" that happened in the windowless wings of her family's clinics.

She was staring at a blurred photo on her phone. It was a candid shot of Alliana at a coffee shop in Makati. She looked happy, vibrant in a yellow dress, though her eyes seemed a bit distant, as if she were looking for someone in a crowd she knew wouldn't be there.

The photo hadn't come from a social media feed. It had come from Cheska, Alliana's best friend.

In a twist of fate that felt like a dark comedy, Cheska was "seeing" Matthew. They weren't dating—Matt didn't do "dating"—but they were "fuck buddies" with a side of mutual benefit. While Matt ruled the underground in Paris, Cheska was his frequent flyer, moving between Manila and France with the ease of a socialite.

A notification pinged.

Telegram Message from Matt:

 > Cheska says A. started a new project at work. She's fine. Stop moping and finish your surgery prep. The Thai 'obstacle' is being moved to your clinic at 02:00.

Joie stared at the screen. It was a strange, illicit information trade. Cheska kept tabs on Alliana for Joie, serving as a silent guardian in exchange for the high life Matthew provided. In return, Cheska would report back to Alliana that Joie was "doing great in Thailand,".

Joie stood up, her movements precise and devoid of the Kinesthetic hesitation she'd had three years ago. She walked to her mirror. The girl who used to cry on the PNR train was gone. This woman had a steady hand and a cold heart.

She picked up her surgical kit. Tonight's "patient" was a rival distributor who needed to be kept alive just long enough to give Stephen the codes to a New York warehouse.

She checked her reflection one last time. She looked like a doctor. She looked like a success. But as she tucked the phone—and the photo of Alliana—into her safe, she knew she was just a ghost inhabiting a very expensive shell.

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