Poor Suzie Simmons

Irene had to look twice to recognize the woman. It was Suzie Simmons, her predecessor.

Suzie used to be one of those beautiful women who had the rare privilege to accompany the higher-ups in Primavera.

Which woman did not envy her?

And yet look at her now.

She was barely a shadow of her previous self.

Gone was the Oscar-de-la-Renta dress, replaced by a cheap frock made by a nameless brand.

The crisp sound of Louboutin heels hitting the marble floor was substituted with the crude sound of flat shoes stomping on the floor.

Even her usually impeccable blond, doll-like curls hung sadly around her darkened face.

Suzie reminded Irene of someone. Of Amalia Jones.

And that was why she unwittingly reached out to help her out.

When Irene grabbed Suzie's wrist, the latter shot her a glare.

"What are you trying to do?" She screamed hysterically. "Let me go!"

Irene sighed in her heart. She could only hope that Suzie might thank her one day.

Irene's graceful figure swayed violently before she slipped and fell to the side.

"Help! Help me!!!" she cried in a heart-wrenching way.

Suzie's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

Security guards quickly came over to see what was happening.

"Miss, are you alright?" They were aghast to find Irene on the floor.

While one helped Irene up, the other apprehended Suzie. The hysterical woman became even more hysterical.

"Let me go! I did nothing wrong!"

The security guard tightened his grip around Suzie and scowled at her.

"Still lying? You clearly pushed this lady to the floor!"

"What??? I did NOT!!!"

Suzie glared in Irene's direction.

"Tell them the truth! You fell on your own!!!"

A seasoned actress like Irene could easily let her tears fall on cue.

She cut a tragic figure, turning her head away so that she did not have to look at the villain while she sadly sobbed at the security guard's shoulder.

Honorable men just had to side with this damsel in distress.

Spitting curses endlessly, Suzie was thrown out of the mansion before she even caught sight of the hem of June Henderson's dress.

The ruckus outside drew the attention of those who were still enjoying dinner in the dining hall.

Curious, they went out to see what was happening.

When June Henderson heard that Suzie Simmons tried to barge in but was stopped by Irene, the former liked Irene even more.

"Heh, she must be quite desperate now," the general manager's wife chuckled.

"Oh, how so?" Irene asked, gasping when she heard June's words.

June's lips were pulled into a cruel sneer.

"The truth is that her family is really poor. The whole family relies on her to make a living. Too bad she had to go and seduce my husband. It's her fault and no one else's."

Of course June would say things like that. For her, it did not matter whether she trampled another life to death under her heels. She had only ever cared about herself and no one else.

Irene patted the dust off her dress and walked toward the exit.

The night was ultimately a success.

It was time for her to go.

Irene left the mansion and went back to her humble home.

It happened to be Saturday the next morning.

Most people slept in to enjoy the weekend, but not Irene. Irene was quite busy with her double life.

A cup of coffee and a cheese bagel later, she descended the steep stairs that led to the secret basement. The door required a combination of iris recognition and personal identification number for granting access.

Other people's basements might be filled with junk.

Irene's basement was her personal working space, designed specifically by Die Rache. It was equipped with the latest technology to enable active communication with the spy organization anytime.

As soon as Irene logged into her account, she made a video call to her assistant. The pitch-black screen came alive when Angela's face appeared along with her cheerful voice.

"Good morning, Leah! How does it feel to return to society?"

Irene chuckled.

"Unpleasant."

Angela giggled. "Does this mean that you are going to finish them quickly and then go undercover eternally?"

"No, of course not," Irene crossed her legs and shifted her weight to the other side before sipping on her coffee.

A cold light passed through her eyes when she continued, "Death is not a punishment but absolution."

During the three years after Amalia Jones was pronounced dead by the world, Irene had thought about myriad ways to make Chris and June pay for their crime. A quick death was never on the list.

"Oooh," Angela crooned on the screen.

Irene did not want to talk about them anymore. They made her coffee taste bad.

"What is the next assignment?"

"Infiltrating Don Torello's eldest daughter's wedding party in Sicily. Don Torello is going to meet with one of his associates, Rico Aldoni. Your job is to kill Rico Aldoni."

While Angela talked, pictures of Don Torello, his daughter, his future son-in-law, and Rico Aldoni were shown on the screen along with each person's summarized background.

"Any other instruction?" Irene asked while going through the descriptions on the screen.

"None, just make sure that it is clean and traceless as always."

Mother was how they referred to the leader of Die Rache.

"Ok."

According to the summary that Angela provided Irene, Rico Aldoni was raised in a poor neighborhood in Italy. His family had been poor for generations. The children were uneducated and ended up working manual labor to sustain their lives.

Rico's father was a construction worker. He died during a mishap at work.

Rico's mother was a homemaker.

Determined to break through the miserable fate that his family was trapped in for generations, Rico ran away from home to join the mafia.

Two years later, he had become one of Don Torello's trustable associates, committing a lot of atrocities in the name of the mafia boss.

"Alright," Irene said. "When is the wedding?"

"Tomorrow morning. You will be picked up today at ten."

"Great, pick me up at this address."