"I'll give you thirty million. But I want access to get close to this man."
Irish slid a signed check and a photo across the table to Brenda, an elite madam known for supplying young women. Many of them college girls, to wealthy older men hungry for fleeting warmth.
Brenda glanced at the check and chuckled softly. She raised an eyebrow, giving Irish a slow once-over.
"You've got interesting taste. Usually, it's the rich uncles paying to touch girls like you. But now, you're the one paying just to get close to one of them."
"I don't care how much it costs," Irish replied coolly as she took a drag from her vape. A thin stream of smoke floated lazily between them.
"I just need access. And I know you can make it happen. I have no doubt about your connections."
Brenda crossed her arms. "You do know who he is, right? Zayden's not an easy target. He's got a reputation. And his wife isn't just any woman either."
"I know," Irish said without hesitation. "I know exactly who he is, and I know who his wife is too."
Brenda squinted. "That couple is known to be rock solid. Head over heels for each other, people say. He never shows up at places like this. It's going to be tough if you're trying to get near him."
"I don't need their love story," Irish cut her off sharply. "I just need an entry point. Whether it's through a party invitation, being a guest, or just working the event. Give me the access, and we're done."
Brenda paused, looking down at the check again before slowly nodding and walking away. She approached a middle-aged man with a bulging belly and flashy jewelry on his fingers. They spoke quietly, nearly in whispers. Whatever they were negotiating, it only took a minute before the man pulled an invitation card from the inside of his blazer.
Brenda returned with a smug smile, holding a luxurious invitation card in her hand.
"This is for Marisha's birthday party," she said, handing it over to Irish. "Tomorrow night at the Savanna Hotel ballroom. This is your access. Thirty million well spent, I'd say."
She took the check from Irish and slipped it stylishly into her leather wallet. "Have fun."
Irish took the invitation in her hand, gently squeezing it as if holding a future she had long plotted in silence.
"So tomorrow's your birthday, Marisha?" She took another puff from her vape, this time with a sly smile curling her lips. "Just wait. I'll seduce your husband, on your birthday."
After leaving Brenda's place, Irish was swallowed again by her quiet but calculated world. She sat in her car, letting the engine hum while she stared into the void.
Her fingers danced over her phone screen, opening her financial dashboard. She reviewed daily reports from several businesses she ran, an aesthetic café, an online boutique, stock investments, even small-scale real estate projects.
Everything had to stay steady. It had to keep growing. She couldn't stop. She wasn't allowed to.
The death of her parents had triggered a massive life insurance payout into her account, hundreds of billions in rupiah. Blood money, she called it.
Still, Irish never lived lavishly or foolishly. She didn't splurge. She didn't shop recklessly.
Instead, she studied. She survived. She invested and grew that money across various ventures. Not for luxury, but for one goal.
Revenge.
Since that dark night, Irish knew she was truly alone in this world. No protector, no home to return to. The only thing she could rely on was her mind and her money.
Money was her shield, her sword, her bullet to pierce the walls of her enemy. And her enemy now lived comfortably on a throne built from the ruins of her family.
Irish would not let the money her parents died for go to waste. She would make it grow.
And she would use every cent of it to destroy Marisha, slowly. In the same way.
*****
"I'm sorry. I still can't give you a child. We've tried everything, but nothing's worked. Even IVF failed."
Zayden's voice was low, full of regret. Marisha just looked at him, her eyes blank, as if accepting a bitter truth. She let out a long sigh, feeling the weight she had carried for far too long. Since they got married, this was the conversation they had always avoided.
Zayden stroked her back, feeling the stiffness in her body. She looked resigned, as if she had run out of words, out of hope. They had tried so hard, consulted countless doctors, tried every method. But the result remained the same.
"Your birthday's coming up. Don't be too sad," Zayden tried to lighten the mood, though his voice was thin. He kissed Marisha's forehead gently, hoping to give some comfort."If we're not meant to have kids, then we'll just live life another way."
Marisha lowered her head, staring at the floor as tears welled in her eyes. She didn't know what to say anymore. Zayden hugged her tighter, hoping to ease the burden she carried.
"But your parents..." Marisha started, her voice soft and full of worry.
"I'll talk to them," Zayden interrupted, his tone firm, though unease crept beneath it. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself."I'll be the one to explain. Don't worry."
But inside, Zayden's anxiety grew. He desperately wanted a child. More than just desire—it had become an obsession that slowly ate away at his peace of mind. Building a family, continuing his bloodline and legacy, being a father, those were dreams he wanted to fulfill before time stole the chance.
The reality was hard to accept. Marisha was now 34. He was 38. And with every passing month without a pregnancy, it felt like another door of hope slammed shut.
The medical risks were rising. The odds were shrinking. The pressure from his family, especially his mother, was becoming a crushing weight on his shoulders. In front of Marisha, Zayden always tried to appear calm and supportive. But behind every hug, there was fear.
Behind every smile, silent panic. Hope was running thin, and Zayden felt increasingly trapped. Not just as a husband, but as the only son of a prestigious family expected to carry on the lineage.
Marisha looked at Zayden with growing anxiety. She knew exactly what he was feeling, even though he never said it out loud. Her womb was damaged. Too many issues from a past she never truly escaped.
Back then, she used birth control pills recklessly. There were even times when she had to abort unwanted pregnancies to escape scandals and chaos. Her past was dark, full of lies, and now it haunted her every night.
Zayden wasn't an ordinary man. He was a top-tier billionaire, owner of various businesses from mining to luxury exports to diamonds. His wealth was immeasurable, and his family's influence extended deep into government circles. His mother, especially, was a fierce woman who would never stay silent if her son had no heir. They wouldn't let Zayden be the dead end on their family tree.
Marisha knew all of that.
All this time, she had fought hard to protect her image. Tried to be the perfect wife. She even fabricated heartbreaking stories about past trauma to keep Zayden from questioning why she wasn't a virgin when they married. All to maintain her status as Mrs. Zayden Malik.
Now, everything hinged on one thing. She had to get pregnant. No matter what.
Marisha clenched her fists. She couldn't let it all fall apart. Not now. Not after everything she had done. She would find the best doctor, the most advanced therapy, even herbal medicine from the remotest corners of the country if needed. She didn't care how much it would cost.
She would get pregnant. She had to.
Because if she didn't, her position as the legitimate wife of the city's most desired man could be taken at any moment by another woman.