The Infinite Fortune System

Chapter 4

With a pleased smile, Peyton eagerly escorted Jim and Elise to the Rosemont Castle Hotel. The plan was simple—Jim would handle the high-stakes transaction with their wealthy yet enigmatic client, while Peyton would remain at the brothel, ensuring that their other guests received nothing less than top-tier satisfaction from the girls.

Peyton’s grin widened as he thought about how smoothly his business dealings with Jim were progressing. Jim didn’t particularly care how or why Elise, who was debuting tonight, had already caught the attention of a rich client. The only thing that mattered to him was that Elise was already proving to be a profitable asset.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Peyton asked, his brows furrowed in mild disbelief as he pulled up in front of the hotel.

Rosemont Castle was a three-star establishment. For the elite, it was far from a prime choice. With the wealth they possessed, high-profile clients would surely opt for the luxury of a five-star hotel.

"Of course. Mr. Moneybags himself sent this address."

"But—"

Jim cut off his wife’s protest with a knowing smirk. "Peyton, rich people have their own ways of doing things. If whatever they’re up to is illicit, a lower-profile hotel like this is the perfect choice to avoid the public eye."

Peyton nodded, though a flicker of curiosity remained in her gaze. "You think Elise’s buyer is some kind of big shot?"

"Could be! But Peyton, who cares? Even if some deranged lunatic is willing to pay a fortune for Elise, I’d still hand her over, hahaha!"

The couple burst into laughter, their voices filled with amusement. Meanwhile, Elise sat in silence, her stomach twisting with unease. She had no idea what fate awaited her, but she struggled to maintain composure. At the very least, she reassured herself, this couldn’t be worse than dancing naked in front of a crowd of strangers.

As planned, Peyton returned to the brothel, leaving Jim to escort Elise inside. He gripped her arm firmly, ensuring she had no opportunity to slip away.

As they followed the hotel staff through the dimly lit corridors towards the reserved room, Jim kept his eyes trained on Elise, his grip tightening whenever she even slightly hesitated. He had no intention of letting her escape.

"This is the room, sir." The male attendant gestured towards the gold-plated number on the door—119.

Jim, ever the miser, dismissed the staff without a tip or even a word of gratitude. Instead, he knocked three times and announced, "Jim Harris, from HH."

It was the code that Mr. Moneybags had instructed him to use upon arrival. HH, of course, stood for Harris Heaven—the brothel Jim owned.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, imposing man clad in a sleek black suit, accentuated by a crimson bow tie. His expression was as icy as his piercing gaze.

Jim swallowed hard before managing to ask, "Mr. Moneybags?"

The man shook his head wordlessly and extended a key card for room 120. "You may wait for the young lady next door. My employer has arranged a luxurious feast, complete with vintage premium wine."

Jim’s eyes sparkled at the mention of wine. As an enthusiast, especially of aged, high-quality vintages, such an offer was impossible to ignore. His excitement barely contained, he asked, "Really, sir? That’s quite generous."

"Of course. Our master wouldn’t want you to be bored while he enjoys himself."

Jim’s grin faltered slightly. Narrowing his eyes, he asked in a more serious tone, "And what if this is just a scam? I won’t allow anyone to cheat me out of my girl."

The suited man remained unfazed. With an air of indifference, he reached into his pocket and produced a business card, handing it to Jim.

Jim read the name aloud. "James Smith." His jaw dropped slightly. The surname ‘Smith’ belonged to one of the wealthiest families in the city. His admiration grew as he recognized the elite residential address printed beneath the name.

The man retrieved another item from his inner pocket—a check for $20,000. He held it out for Jim to take.

"The rest will be paid in cash. If my master is satisfied, you’ll receive even more than the agreed amount."

Jim’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he eyed the check, already daydreaming about the potential bonus. He then turned to Elise, his voice suddenly adopting a gentler, almost paternal tone. "Elise, as your uncle, I’ve always thought of you as my own daughter. So, please, don’t disappoint me. Give Mr. Smith the best experience possible."

Elise clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She knew full well that Jim’s words were nothing but lies. No father would ever sell his own daughter.

"Please come in," The guard opened the door to Elise.

Elise clutched her own white dress, swallowed hard, then took a deep breath to steady her heartbeat.

Jim, who had lost his patience when he saw Elise standing wordlessly, pushed the girl forcefully into the room. He grimaced as Elise, on the verge of collapsing, turned to look at him.

The guard closed room 119 without comment. "Come along, sir," he said, leading Jim into room 120.

The suited man silently closed the door to room 119 and turned to Jim. "This way, sir," he said, leading him to room 120.

Left alone, Elise instinctively reached for the door handle, only to find it locked. Panic surged through her as her breath became ragged. The fear of what awaited her made her chest tighten painfully.

But she forced herself to be strong. Once again, the image of Eric’s face surfaced in her mind, igniting a tiny flicker of courage within her. Even if it was minuscule, she clung to it, forcing herself to step further inside.

!!

~Happy birthday, my dear Elise!~

!!

Elise's eyebrows knitted together as she read the golden alphabet balloon arrangement on the wall of the hotel room. The phrase was familiar to her. The frown on her forehead became more pronounced as she shifted her gaze to take in the decorations in front of her. 

On the white bed were many colourful gift boxes with cute patterned ribbons. Next to it, on the table, was a two-tiered chocolate cake with a number 15 candle on top. And balloons of all shapes and colours were scattered around the room.

Elise walked slowly towards the bed, tossing the balloons that filled the floor aside. Water came to her eyes, but this time it was followed by a smile. 

Elise wondered if she was dreaming or unconscious. Maybe when Jim pushed her, she fell, hit the floor and passed out. Because this was too beautiful. If all this had been prepared to commemorate the day of her birth, then this was the most beautiful celebration of her life.She sat on the bed, reaching for the smallest of the gifts. As she carefully untied the ribbon, her heart clenched at what she found inside.

"Elise."

Her head snapped up at the sound of a familiar voice—Eric’s voice.

She ignored it. She had been thinking about her brother so much that she was now hallucinating, hearing his voice as if he were right there with her.

A bitter smile curved her lips. Even in this surreal moment, her mind still conjured up the impossible.

So, before she inevitably woke from this dream, Elise chose to focus on the photograph she now held—an old family picture of her, Eric, and their parents, back when life was still kind.

"Do you like that photo so much that you won’t even spare me a glance?"

Elise froze.

This time, the voice wasn’t just in her head.

She turned slowly, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Eric…??! How is this possible?"

Before Eric could respond, a gut-wrenching scream of pain echoed from room 120.

"... Isn't that Uncle Jim's scream?" Elise's eyes widened. She covered her mouth with her hand. "Did he go to hell?"

Eric smiled at his sister's question. He held both of Elise's arms. "Jim Harris deserves to be tortured in hell, but this time he's just getting warmed up by having to feel the torment from... My friends."

Elise slapped her hand to her forehead, "Am I drunk and hallucinating right now? I really hope Uncle Jim gets his comeuppance, but doesn't that sound impossible?"

Eric broadened his smile at the confusion on his sister's face. "Hmm... Let's just say that 'torturing Uncle Jim' is a special present from me for your birthday!"

'Of course, that's just the beginning...'