Luxurious Experience

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, gently spilling onto Irene's face and waking her. After quietly stretching under the covers, a sense of hunger stirred to life along with her.

She stepped onto the floor with bare feet, pushed open the window, and walked onto the balcony. Resting both hands on the railing, she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of the fresh sea breeze against her face.

Not far away lay the boundless blue ocean, the soothing sound of the tide slowly drifting into her ears. She took a deep breath, and her heart felt instantly open and tranquil.

"Irene, good morning!"

A familiar voice came from the right. She slowly opened her eyes to see Britney, who had also woken up and was greeting her.

"Hey, since both beauties are awake, I'll have the butler send up lunch." Edward, to her left, wiped the sweat from his hair. "You two go wait in the dining room; I'm going to take a shower."

Irene returned to the elegantly decorated room and opened the wardrobe. To her surprise, it was filled with brand-new clothes in her size, even the tags had been removed, as if she had brought them from home herself. This couldn't help but give her the illusion that this vacation had been planned all along.

The truth was that she had still been agonizing over her vacation destination right up until the second she won Best Director, yet when she woke up the next day, she was already on a private island in Hawaii.

By the time she changed her clothes and arrived at the dining room, the table was already laden with food. It consisted mainly of local delicacies, with the seafood freshly caught and prepared by a chef before being served.

The variety of food before her was vast. She picked a shellfish to soothe her stomach first and nearly lost her teeth from how fresh it was.

The life of the wealthy is truly blissful. Irene couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Although she had been born into a wealthy family as part of the Coppola Family, last night's experience told her that she was still some distance away from the truly elite rich.

After the awards ceremony ended last night, because both she and Britney had won, the area outside both Rockefeller Center and their hotel was packed with reporters wanting to interview them.

Shelly Ovitz had to bring in several bodyguards just to get the three of them out. Everyone was in high spirits but had their mood dampened by the pestering reporters. Thinking about how they would be followed everywhere for the next few days, Irene didn't even feel like looking at the trophy in her hand anymore.

Edward suggested that leaving New York might be better, but even returning to Los Angeles wouldn't allow them to escape the reporters' pursuit.

Irene seized the opportunity to suggest that she wanted to go on vacation. Britney's eyes lit up, and she immediately asked Shelly Ovitz if she had any work coming up.

"You're in your prime, and you want to go on vacation? You have an exclusive interview with Rolling Stone tomorrow, a magazine shoot the day after, a radio interview in three days, and a music show in eight days. Where would you find the time?"

Irene saw the light in Britney's eyes dim along with the mention of those work arrangements. Thinking of how she herself had gradually become emotionally unstable under such high-intensity work in her past life, she decided to change her agent's perspective.

"Shelly, give Britney a week. She won Best New Artist, so we can't refuse Rolling Stone, but there's no need to do those unimportant, minor magazines anymore. Also, there are many midnight radio shows that can be scaled back. Aside from attracting the attention of a few drunks, they do nothing for Britney."

Shelly Ovitz ran a hand through his hair in frustration and said, "You make it sound so easy. If it weren't for the high-intensity exposure, where would she get her current glory?"

Irene knew Shelly Ovitz wouldn't change his mind based on a single sentence. "Your previous plan was for her to take the girl-next-door route, so you took a lot of phone-in and radio interview jobs. I had no objections to that before.

But moving forward, I think you should adjust your focus. Superstars need a sense of distance. You could have her visit fans in hospitals once every month or two; that would be far more effective than repeating daily phone-in interviews."

Although Shelly Ovitz still didn't want to let Britney go on vacation, at least he had listened to a bit of what Irene said.

Irene knew her agent was a profit-driven man who wouldn't move without a clear incentive. "I think my win was quite unexpected this time. Are there any media outlets willing to interview me?"

"You're willing to accept interviews?" Shelly Ovitz's voice rose several decibels upon hearing Irene's words. After all, she had previously said she wanted to turn down all interviews, and he wasn't as firm with her as he was with Britney.

"You pick two. I can do the interview with Britney. In exchange, can you give Britney a week off?"

"Haha, if you're willing to trade yourself, it would be heartless of me to refuse. Where do you plan to go? Go to Hawaii; there are too many media in Las Vegas, and I'm afraid you'll be photographed." Once Shelly Ovitz got what he wanted, he immediately changed his stance.

At this moment, Edward Nelson raised his hand quietly like a schoolboy. "Um, if you want to go to Hawaii for a vacation and don't want to be disturbed, I have a private island there that I can lend to you."

Upon hearing this, Shelly Ovitz punched Edward. "Look at you, having a private island and being so low-key about it." The envy and jealousy in his words were overflowing.

"It was a coming-of-age gift from my father. I haven't been there in two years. I'll make a call to have them prepare. It might be difficult to buy tickets on such short notice, so I'll borrow a plane. Shelly, why don't you come with us?"

"I would love to, but I have to stay behind to clean up the mess once you leave. I'll buy my own ticket and head over in a couple of days. You won't mind, will you?"

"Of course not. Once you land, just have the airport call me, and I'll send someone to pick you up."

When the plane took off, less than two hours had passed since they decided to vacation in Hawaii. Irene sat on a private jet, something she had never experienced in either of her two lives, feeling a bit dizzy. There were no other passengers to disturb them, and they didn't have to squeeze into a tiny space; there were even roses decorating the armrests of the seats.

Even the most spacious first-class cabin couldn't compare to this level of roominess and comfort.

When the attendant enthusiastically asked if they needed a late-night snack, Irene happened to be hungry. She hadn't eaten much all day because of the awards ceremony, so she was happy to relax and enjoy the food.

The late-night snacks they served were completely different from standard airline food; they were prepared on the spot by a professional chef, and the taste was on par with a five-star hotel.

By the time everyone finished their meal, it was already 2:00 AM.

Edward had someone bring out champagne.

"Even though you two ladies aren't of drinking age yet, it would be a waste not to celebrate such a great moment of winning an award tonight. Don't worry, this is a specialty champagne from our family's vineyard, specifically provided for elegant ladies. It won't make you drunk."

As the last drop of golden champagne slid into the crystal glass, an attendant pushed a three-tiered cake into the center of the cabin.

The cake wasn't decorated with ordinary buttercream, but rather a golden microphone trophy recreated by a master pastry chef using edible gold leaf and spun sugar—almost a miniature version of the trophy they had received.

Amidst this ultimate sensory feast, a faint, ethereal scent of white pine emerged.

It was like a custom-blended fragrance, specifically designed to neutralize the stuffiness caused by the sealed cabin, keeping the luxurious space airy and clear.

This unique, cool fragrance made Irene's nerves, already slightly tipsy from the champagne, feel even more dreamlike.

So much so that how she got off the plane, how she boarded the private yacht, and how she was welcomed onto that private island in the middle of the sea and entered the elegantly decorated suite—all these memories seemed to have been gently washed over by the bubbles of that champagne, leaving behind only hazy light and shadow.