Ingrid asked, “Do you have food?”

The woman chuckled softly, giving her a once-over. “Come inside.”

Ingrid glanced up at the neon sign above the door—Spark Plugs.

She knew what awaited her if she stepped inside, but hunger, exhaustion, and her longing for luxury pulled her in like a spell. In the end, she followed the woman through the door.

She needed to survive. Only by surviving could she take revenge on Hansel and Miranda.

Reality would quickly humble Ingrid once more. Earning money would not be as easy as she thought.

Nevertheless, her looks secured her the job immediately. Spark Plugs provided her with free food and accommodation, and that night, Ingrid finally got a proper night’s sleep.

The following evening, she was dressed in a revealing mini skirt and taken by the so-called “supervisor” to a private room. The door shut behind her, sealing off any sound from escaping.

When the door opened again, Ingrid staggered out. Her skirt had been torn to shreds, her high heels were nowhere to be found, and she was left wearing only her underwear.

Her body was marked with bruises and scratches—deep red marks crisscrossed her chest, thighs, waist, and neck, some even oozing blood.

Her eyes were swollen from crying, her throat raw from screaming, but she clutched five stacks of cash tightly in her arms.

Two hours, 50 thousand.

She forced a smile, thinking she should feel happy. But her heart felt as though it had been torn open, with cold winds mercilessly blowing through the void.

Ingrid lasted three days.

Covered in bruises, she had earned 200 thousand dollars in cash. She didn’t want more, so she immediately requested to resign.

But when she told the manager, he merely laughed at her. “Resign? Do you think Spark Plugs is some marketplace? You can’t just come and go as you please. With tens of thousands flowing in daily, why leave?"

Ingrid insisted. 200 thousand was enough for her to start over.

Seeing that she wouldn’t be swayed, the manager dropped the facade. “Fine, you can leave. Just pay the contract penalty.”

“Penalty?”

“Yes, didn’t you read the contract you signed? It’s clearly stated in black and white. If you leave before working for a full year, you owe us five million in compensation.”

Ingrid grabbed the contract, her eyes scanning the fine print. There it was, plain as day.

“This is fraud! This contract is invalid and won’t hold up in court. I’ve said my piece, so from this moment, I’m no longer your employee. I won’t be back!”

She turned to leave.

The manager signaled to two burly men in black. They immediately blocked her path, preventing her from leaving.

“What are you doing!” Ingrid screamed.

The manager’s smile turned icy. “What do you think we’re doing? Teaching you a lesson, of course!

“You think you can just walk away after making some money? If everyone were like you, this industry would collapse! Sure, the money’s good, but you have to stick around and keep bringing in new clients…”

Ten minutes later, the men came back.

“Boss, she’s passed out. What now?” one of the men asked after they stopped beating her.

“Not much of a fighter,” the other one scoffed. “Barely took a few hits before fainting.”

“Throw her in the storage room,” the manager ordered coldly. “No food, no water. You two guard the door. Don’t let her escape.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on, then.” The manager waved them off.

Once everyone had left, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Lawson, everything’s been taken care of. What’s the next step?”

A cold voice answered from the other end, “Keep her locked up for now.”

“Understood.”

Ingrid was locked in the storage room for three days.

She had no food and just 2 ounces of water each day to keep her barely alive. In the pitch-black room, the hunger and thirst drove her to the edge of madness.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how, just a month ago, she had lived in a luxurious villa, with household staff attending to her every need. She was able to eat anything she wanted, buy whatever her heart desired.

Why? Why had it come to this?

She had once drunk gourmet honey like water, but now even a drop of water was a luxury beyond reach. “Help…” she croaked for what felt like the hundredth time. But all that answered her was endless darkness and a fear that gnawed at her soul.

Suddenly, Ingrid’s hand brushed against a shard of glass in the corner of the room. She picked it up, holding it in her trembling hand. Slowly, she aimed it at her wrist and slashed down hard.

The blue veins split open, and warm, red blood began to flow.