The Ferraris glided into the underground parking of The Celestia, a diamond-cut high-rise where the city’s elite paid seven figures just to glimpse the skyline from its windows. The air smelled of polished concrete and exclusivity.
Waiting near the elevators, leaning against their own Ferraris like bored goddesses, were Dr. Lakyus and Renner—the final two members of Hez’s inner circle.
Lakyus, ever the composed surgeon, arched a brow as Britney stepped out of Sara’s car, her arms den with shopping bags.
“So,” Lakyus drawled, “you’re the new pet project.”
Renner, the nurse with doll-like features, merely smiled—a slow, unsettling curl of her lips.
Britney’s gaze darted up at the towering building, her voice breathless. “Do all six of you… live here?”
Sara snorted, hefting a box of Britney’s new designer gym gear. “Obviously.”
“Do I get an apartment?” Britney pressed, already imagining floor-to-ceiling windows, a walk-in closet for her spoils—
“No.” Sara’s reply was a guillotine drop. “You’re staying in Lakyus’ spare room. Consider it your… probationary suite.”
Britney’s smile faltered. A spare room? After 60,000 in gifts?
Lakyus smirked, reading her thoughts. “Don’t pout. It’s still nicer than anything you’ve ever slept in.”
The six women—Maya, Lena, Alicia, Sara, Lakyus, and Renner—formed an impromptu assembly line, passing Britney’s purchases to the building’s security guards, who carried them with gloved hands.
It was a spectacle:
Maya draped in a sheer cover-up over her bikini (because she’d come straight from the pool).
Alicia bancing a tower of shoe boxes with infuriating ease.
Renner humming as she palmed Britney’s new La Per lingerie like it was evidence.
Britney scrambled to keep up, her excitement now tinged with unease. Why did this feel like an initiation? A test?
Lakyus’ apartment was a study in controlled opulence—sleek modern art, a fully stocked wet bar, and a view that could make a mortal weep.
The “spare room” was, admittedly, stunning: a minimalist oasis with a king bed, an en suite bathroom with heated floors, and a walk-in closet already half-filled with Lakyus’ own designer rejects.
“You’ll live here,” Lakyus said, tossing Britney’s gym bag onto the bed. “But make no mistake—this is my domain. You breathe when I say so.”
Britney swallowed. “And Hez? When do I meet him?”
Renner, lingering in the doorway, giggled. “When he decides you’re worth his time.”
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Britney alone with her mountain of luxury—and the crushing weight of unspoken rules.
Back in the hospital, Hez watched the numbers shift:
[Britney Ivanov - Familiarity: 38 → 40]
Good. The apartment, the subtle humiliation, the hierarchy—it was all working.
***
The boardroom of The Celestia’s management office was a temple of cold, calcuted wealth—polished mahogany, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city’s glittering skyline, and a tension so thick it could choke.
Britney sat stiffly beside the six women, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair as the numbers on the contract burned into her retinas.
1,900,000 per unit.
Six units.
Total: 11,400,000.
And Hez was paying it upfront.
Unseen by the women, Hez’s dashboard flickered in his hospital room as the first transfer went through:
First Round (Maya, Lena, Alicia):**5,700,000 remitted.
5,700,000(1,900,000 x3)
Refund Triggered:
+11,400,000
[Current Money:
5,700,000→11,400,000]
Second Round (Sara, Lakyus, Renner):
:**5,700,000 remitted.
5,700,000(1,900,000 x3)
Refund Triggered:
+11,400,000
[Current Money:
11,400,000→17,100,000]
The system never failed. Double the expenditure, zero net loss.
Yet to the women in that room, it looked like Hez had just casually set 11.4 million on fire.
Alicia, ever the provocateur, slid the stamped receipt across the table toward Britney with a manicured finger.
“See that, sweetheart?” she purred. “That’s what loyalty buys.”
The six women—Maya, Lena, Alicia, Sara, Lakyus, Renner—stared at the paper like it was a live grenade. Their faces paled, their breaths shallow. Even they hadn’t expected this level of financial brutality.
But Britney?
She was drowning.
Her hands shook as she traced the zeros, her mind short-circuiting. This wasn’t just wealth—this was obscene.
“I… I don’t understand,” Britney whispered. “Why would he—how can he just—”
“Because he can,” Lakyus cut in, her voice surgical. “And now you know exactly what’s expected of you.”
The unspoken threat hung in the air:
You will never be worth this.
But you will try.
As they left the office, the six women walked with the eerie calm of those who had just witnessed their own expendability.
Britney, meanwhile, felt the ground tilt beneath her.
11.4 million.
Just to prove a point.
And then—Alicia’s final twist of the knife.
Leaning in, her lips brushed Britney’s ear.
“Imagine what he’d spend if he actually loved you.”
Back in the hospital, Hez watched the numbers spike:
[Britney Ivanov - Familiarity: 42 → 60]
A near-vertical climb. Fear. Awe. Greed. All the perfect ingredients.
He exhaled, satisfied.
[Current Money 17,100, 000]
***
The municipal council office was a stark contrast to the opulence of The Celestia—fluorescent lights, the scent of stale coffee, and the bureaucratic hum of stamping papers. But today, it was the stage for another act of Hez’s ruthless financial theater.
Britney sat between Alicia and Sara, her knuckles white as she clutched the armrests of her chair. The clerk slid the tax assessment across the desk, and the numbers burned into her vision like a brand:
800,000 per unit.????6 units.????Total:4,800,000.
Paid in full in advance. For twenty years.
Unseen by the women, in his hospital room, Hez’s dashboard updated in real-time:
4,800,000sent→9,600,000 refunded.
Current Money:
17,100,000→21,900,000.
Alicia, ever the showman, smirked as she signed the receipt with a flourish. "Another day, another few million," she mused, as if discussing the weather.
Sara, however, kept her gaze fixed on Britney, watching the younger woman’s reaction like a hawk.
Britney’s breath hitched as the clerk handed her the receipt—as if testing her, seeing if she’d faint at the sight of such numbers.
"This… this isn’t possible," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No one just… pays this."
Sara leaned in, her voice a bde wrapped in silk. "Hez does."
Alicia chuckled, flipping her hair over one shoulder. "And now you understand why we don’t question him."
The weight of it crushed Britney’s chest.
4.8 million.
Like it was nothing.
What kind of man had this kind of power?
What kind of monster had she gotten herself involved with?
[Current Money 21,900,000]
