"She's twenty years younger than you! She's just after your money! I told you from the start, but you were too blind to see it! Now look—everything's ruined! The business is bankrupt, your reputation's in tatters, your pride shredded to pieces... and the only thing you can do now is say sorry?"
"Darling, please—"
"Irish was supposed to become a doctor! That dream should've been easy for us to achieve! But because of your stupidity, our child's future is gone too! You bastard!"
The voices echoed, sharp as a knife slicing through unhealed wounds. It was the last argument Irish ever heard between her parents before they vanished... forever.
Irish woke up trembling, cold sweat drenching her neck. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes wild as she searched for reality. That nightmare had returned, haunting her for who knows how many times now.
It all started with one woman. A young college student with an innocent face and a deceitful smile. That woman had stolen her father's heart, slithered into their family, and turned their peace into ruin.
She didn't just take their wealth—she took her parents' sanity. Sucked them dry until nothing remained but anger, shame, and mountains of debt.
Pressure after pressure tightened like a noose. Threats from loan sharks, scorn from relatives, and the whispers of neighbors slowly chipped away at her parents' minds.
Until finally… they gave up.
That night, after the big fight, the house was quieter than usual. No shattered plates, no screaming. Just an eerie silence. Like a storm had passed, leaving only strangeness in its wake.
Her mother cooked. The dining table was neatly set with Irish's favorite dishes—warm corn soup, sweet soy-glazed chicken, and jasmine tea with its soothing aroma. For a moment, Irish felt relieved. Maybe things would get better, she naively thought.
Her father handed her a plate with a bitter smile.
"Forgive Papa and Mama, okay, sweetheart?"
Irish frowned but obeyed. She was only thirteen then, too young to recognize the scent of despair behind that forced smile. She thought they had made up. She even smiled faintly, believing everything would go back to how it was.
But after the third bite, her head grew heavy. Her vision blurred. And before she completely lost consciousness, she saw her parents' hands clasped together. They were smiling. But it wasn't a happy smile. It was a final, wounded farewell.
They had poisoned the food. A last resort for parents too exhausted to go on.
They chose to die together.
But God hadn't allowed Irish to join them in that plan. She was found the next morning by a neighbor who grew suspicious—no lights were on, no sounds came from the house, no signs of life. Her body was weak, but her soul hardened from that day on. The moment she finally learned who was at the root of all this tragedy.
That woman.
The destroyer.
Now, she lived comfortably in luxury. Married to a young tycoon, praised by the media as a socialite and philanthropist. Her name and face were everywhere. Her smile radiated as if she had never left a trail of blood behind her.
But Irish hadn't forgotten.
She nurtured that grudge. Let it grow with time. Let it harden alongside the scars.
Now, Irish was twenty-four—the same age that woman had been when she destroyed her family.
And she was ready.
"You ruined my family at twenty-four. Now, at my twenty-fourth year, I'll ruin your life. Your family, your wealth, your reputation—I'll take it all. I want you to know what it feels like to lose everything."