"You must never marry someone like your father! Remember Mama's words, okay?"
Her mother's voice echoed in Irish's mind, even after all these years. The tremble in it still vivid. That fragile voice came from a woman clutching her daughter's shoulders tightly, her body shaking violently in her daughter's arms. Her face was pale, her hair a mess, her eyes swollen as if they had run out of tears.
Every day in that house was hell. No laughter, no warm hugs like in fairy tales. Only sobs, screams, and slammed doors. Her father was rarely home, and when he was, he brought a storm with him. Fights were their daily meals, and her mother was the silent victim of it all.
"Look at this woman, Irish... She's the one who destroyed our family."
Her mother pointed to a worn-out photo of an elegant woman with a smug smile, standing next to the man Irish called Papa.
"Don't be like her. Don't become a homewrecker. Live a good life."
"I don't believe a child should bear the sins of a bastard father. You are my daughter. You deserve to be happy."
Irish remembered how those words were spoken through choked breaths, amidst sobs that made her mother's body tremble.
She also remembered how her mother eventually gave in to the pain. Slowly fading until not a single spark of life remained.
Irish stared at her mother's photo in a simple wooden frame. Tears rolled down her cheeks, not from sadness, but from the rage she had nurtured for years.
"I'm sorry, Mom..." she whispered, her fingers gently touching the glass surface of the photo.
"I couldn't keep my promise. I've become just like that woman. A taker."
Her smile was bitter, painful, yet filled with resolve.
"But not for love. Not because I want happiness... but because I want revenge."
Her eyes were sharp, cold, burning with fire.
"I'm going to destroy Marisha. I'll make her feel the pain you once felt. I'll make her kneel before the world... just like you once collapsed."
"She will know what it's like to be the abandoned wife. The betrayed. The one quietly ruined."
Irish clutched the photo tightly to her chest. A part of her cried. But another part… laughed with a plan.
Irish wouldn't stop until Marisha was destroyed.
She placed her mother's photo back into the drawer. She closed it gently, as if afraid to hurt the memories kept inside. But that peace was shattered when her phone buzzed.
A message from Zayden: "Sorry, I can't see you today. Something urgent came up."
Irish sighed deeply. Her eyes narrowed, fists clenched. She knew exactly what urgent meant. And her suspicion was confirmed by another notification—from Marisha.
She sent one photo, just enough to ignite the fire in Irish's chest.
It showed Zayden wrapping his arm around Marisha at their dining table. Zayden wore a warm smile, Marisha resting her head lovingly on his shoulder.
"Finally a dinner for two again after so long. My beloved husband is home." Marisha wrote, proudly.
Irish stared at the photo for a long time. Her jaw tightened, her eyes sparkled with fury.
She stepped quietly into Zayden's private room a secret space only they knew about. Her fingers trailed over the expensive furniture and strange collectible items Zayden kept neatly. But what caught her eye was a small object on the dark wooden table, a black ball gag, still wrapped in clear plastic.
Irish's eyebrow arched. She moved closer, picked it up, turned it over in her hand. She knew it wasn't just an accessory. And even if she didn't fully understand how to use it, her instinct whispered one thing, this could be a weapon. A weapon to seduce Zayden and reclaim control of the game.
With a wicked smile, Irish slipped off her thin dress, sat on the bed, and grabbed her phone. She turned on the front camera, angled it to capture her sensual face, slightly parted lips, and the ball gag near her mouth. Half-naked, half-wild.
Click.
One photo sent. Followed by a message,
"Sure, Uncle? But I want you to teach me how to use this! Why do you keep breaking your promises? Weren't we supposed to learn something steamy tonight?"
Irish stared at the silent screen, then scoffed softly. A sly smile appeared as she reached for her dress and slowly began to put it back on. Every motion still seductive, though no one was watching.
"Marisha thinks she can win against me?" she murmured while brushing her long hair to the side, exposing her graceful neck.
If Zayden were here now, Irish was sure he wouldn't be able to look away. Especially after seeing that photo. Even without touch, without sound, just one message and a little imagination, Irish could drive Zayden crazy.
"Even though Zayden's there right now, Marisha... I guarantee your husband is only looking at his phone. Thinking of me, not you!" Irish whispered to herself, her tone sharp and brimming with confidence.
She sat at the vanity, staring into the reflection of her beautiful, lethal face.
"Nice move, Marisha. But sadly, I hold Zayden's trump card. One you, even as his wife, don't know about."
Across town,
Zayden bit his lower lip gently. On his screen was Irish, holding the ball gag, her face seductive, her gaze daring. His breath quickened, and his fingers moved to save the photo into a private album.
"You drive me insane, baby." he typed quickly, unaware that from across the table, Marisha was watching him sharply.
"Something important?" Marisha asked, trying to sound calm as she put a piece of steak in her mouth, suppressing the rising rage.
"Hmm?" Zayden let out a distracted grunt without looking up. He hadn't even touched his food.
"Zayden," Marisha's voice rose slightly. "Did you hear me?"
He finally looked up, but only briefly. "Yeah, yeah. The food's great. Thanks, love." His voice flat, his eyes returning to the screen.
Another buzz....
Irish: "I still don't know how to use it. Should I wait for a tutorial, or will you come and teach me in person?"
Zayden exhaled sharply, his body slowly heating up. His left hand still held the fork, unmoved. He typed back quickly.
"Tomorrow, I'll make sure you learn properly. You'll be punished for teasing me like that."
Under the table, Marisha's fists clenched. She knew. She knew who was behind Zayden's blank stare and restless fingers. Irish. That woman was playing her role brilliantly. And Zayden? He was like an infatuated teenager.
Marisha downed her wine in one gulp, then continued eating.
"Irish, you've humiliated me completely. But you don't know who I truly am. Just wait... my revenge is coming."