An exquisite scene unfolded on the high rooftop of the palace. Surrounded by white marble and glass was a vast modern garden, with a sparkling blue swimming pool at its center. This open-air garden was so secure that no outsider could catch a glimpse.
Alia had taken on a different aura today. She wore a stylish deep green bikini that accentuated her toned physique without diminishing her elegance. As she walked toward the water, the sunlight shimmered on her skin like pearls.
Victor's two sisters were also bathing on one side of the pool. They stared in awe at Alia's confidence and physique. The younger sister whispered:
"Look, sis! Who would believe Alia is a mother? Her personality and beauty could outshine any top Russian model."
On the other side of the pool, Victor, Dimitri, and the Eldest Brother sat in comfortable deck chairs with expensive drinks and snacks. Though Dimitri hadn't forgotten the slap, he couldn't take his eyes off Alia's bold presence today. The eldest brother realized that Alia wasn't just mentally strong; she had kept herself physically fit like a warrior.
Victor lowered his sunglasses and looked at Alia with deep love and possessiveness. He knew that even though the garden was secure, Dimitri's lingering gaze was becoming intolerable.
Before diving in, Alia glanced at Victor and smirked. She then performed a perfect dive into the deep water. A few moments later, she surfaced at the edge of the pool, looked directly at Dimitri, and said:
"What are you looking at, Dimitri? Measuring the depth of the water, or thinking about your next defeat? Remember, even in clear water, sharks can be hidden."
Victor burst out laughing. He raised his glass to Alia and said, "To the Godmother!"The atmosphere at the rooftop pool was magical, a rare moment of joy amidst the dark clouds of power and conspiracy. As Alia laughed and played in the water with her two sisters-in-law, the heavy tension of the palace seemed to dissolve for a moment.
Alia was laughing heartily, her voice echoing like silver bells. The two sisters were teasing her, splashing water and helping her manage her wet hair. As Alia reached back to sweep her damp tresses away from her face, the bright sunlight hit her upper chest directly.
It was then that a stunning secret was revealed.
Etched onto her skin was an exquisite and artistic Phoenix tattoo. The mythical bird was depicted rising from golden flames with its wings spread wide the ultimate symbol of rebirth and invincible power. The water made the ink glisten, making the phoenix look almost alive.
Victor's younger sister gasped, reaching out toward the tattoo in awe:
"Sister! Is that a Phoenix? I never noticed it before. Is this a mark from your 'other' life from the CIA?"
Alia smiled enigmatically. She leaned back against the edge of the pool, her eyes burning with a sudden, sharp intensity. She spoke in a calm, steady voice:
"The Phoenix dies in flames only to be reborn from its own ashes. My life is exactly like that. Whenever someone thought I was finished, I returned even stronger. This tattoo reminds me that to be a 'Godmother,' you must first burn away your own weaknesses."
From the upper balcony, Victor looked down. Seeing the Phoenix on Alia's chest and her commanding presence, his heart swelled with pride. He knew that when this Phoenix fully spread its wings, the entire Russian underworld would tremble.
But Dimitri was watching through binoculars from a distance. His eyes were filled with venomous envy. He hissed to himself:
"Let the bird spread its wings. The hunter is ready. Tonight, I will clip the wings of this Phoenix."
Alia seemed to sense his predatory gaze. Without breaking her smile, she suddenly turned her head and looked directly toward Dimitri's window. Startled, Dimitri jerked the binoculars away. Alia knew exactly where her enemy was hiding. She fixed her hair one last time and stepped out of the pool with the grace and power of a true queen.Night fell over Moscow. Expensive limousines lined up at the palace entrance. The biggest mafia dons of Russia, political heavyweights, and underworld kingpins were all invited tonight.
The center of attraction was Alia. She had prepared herself like an unrivaled queen. She wore a crimson-red and gold embroidered high-slit silk gown that partially veiled her Phoenix tattoo while amplifying her regal elegance. Around her neck was a diamond and emerald set that sparkled under the chandeliers. But beneath that glamour, tucked into a hidden strap on her thigh, was her lethal compact pistol.
As Alia descended the grand staircase holding Victor's hand, the entire hall fell silent. Whispers filled the room some called her a goddess of beauty, others called her the new terror of Moscow.
Victor whispered into her ear:
"You look like fire tonight, Alia. But remember, Dimitri's mercenaries have already slipped through the back gate. Stay calm until I give the signal."
Alia replied with a mysterious smirk:
"Don't worry, Victor. When a hunter sets a trap, they let the prey dance for a while."
Dimitri stood in a corner, checking his phone repeatedly. He messaged his foreign assassins: "Target is in the hall. Lights will go out during drinks. That's when you strike."
Suddenly, Alia walked right up to Dimitri. Holding a champagne glass, she looked him straight in the eye and said:
"What's the matter, Dimitri? You seem restless. Waiting for a big surprise? Just remember, not all surprises bring joy."
Dimitri started sweating. He couldn't tell if she knew his plan. At that exact moment the lights went out!
Chaos erupted in the hall. Screams and the sharp sound of gunshots filled the air. Dimitri's men rushed toward Alia, but they had no idea who they were facing.
In the pitch black, Alia's CIA training kicked in. Within seconds, she drew her pistol from beneath her gown. Even in the dark, her eyes glowed with a lethal focus.The moment darkness fell, a cold terror gripped the hall. Dimitri's mercenaries moved toward Alia, wearing infrared goggles. They thought the dark was their ally, but they had no idea Alia was more dangerous than the shadows themselves.
In that pitch black, Alia unleashed her lethal CIA tactical moves. There were no loud noises—only the sound of snapping bones and whispers lost in the wind. Alia moved with a fluid grace, her high-slit gown flowing as if she were dancing, but every move was a strike of death. Using her silenced pistol, she disabled one mercenary after another with surgical precision.
Only 30 seconds had passed!
Suddenly, at Victor's signal, the lights flashed back on. The sight that greeted the guests left them breathless and paralyzed with shock. Victor's parents were sitting calmly on the sofa, and right in front of them—
Eight of Dimitri's elite mercenaries were writhing on the floor. Some had shattered arms, some had dislocated shoulders, and others had passed out from the sheer intensity of the pain. One of the guests screamed in disbelief, "Good God! What did we just witness?!"
Alia calmly tucked her messy hair back with one hand. Her compact pistol was still smoking. She looked at Dimitri, who was cowering against the wall, paralyzed by fear. A sinister smirk played on Alia's lips.
She walked up to him, grabbed him by the collar, and whispered in a low, heavy voice:
"Dimitri, your men are amateurs. They belong in a nursery, not in the path of a Godmother. Now tell me, should I dump these bodies in front of your room, or send them to the frozen lakes of Russia?"
A pin-drop silence fell over the room. The guests realized that Victor's wife wasn't just beautiful—she was a living volcano. The eldest brother broke the silence with a slow clap, and the two sisters stood proudly by Alia's side.
The old Lord stood up and placed a hand on Alia's head. He announced firmly:
"From this day forward, Alia will head all military decisions and the intelligence network of this lineage. Dimitri, as of this moment, you are stripped of all your powers."
Dimitri collapsed to his knees. His entire conspiracy had turned to dust in a heartbeat.Dimitri sat on his knees, trembling. The hateful and mocking stares of hundreds in the hall felt like they were burning him alive. Looking at his elite mercenaries—some with twisted limbs, others moaning in agony—he realized this Alia was not the quiet woman he had known for years.
Stammering, Dimitri reached toward Alia's feet:
"Sister-in-law... please forgive me. I didn't realize... I made a mistake out of anger toward Victor. Give me one chance."
The guests thought Alia might show mercy. But the icy glare in her eyes didn't soften for a second. She leaned down, whispering into Dimitri's ear with a bone-chilling tone:
"Forgiveness? Dimitri, there is no such word in the CIA dictionary. And a Godmother has no room for traitors. But I won't ruin my celebration by killing you in front of everyone. I have a lot to discuss with you 'in private' later. That account remains open."
Alia stood up straight, a triumphant smirk on her face. Turning away from Dimitri, she clapped her hands, signaling the waiters. She announced loudly:
"Gentlemen, the minor entertainment is over! Start the music! Tonight is for celebration, not conspiracy. Enjoy the party!"
Instantly, the orchestra struck up a festive tune. Waiters dragged the half-dead mercenaries out of the hall by their legs like trash. Dimitri was left sitting in a corner like a defeated dog, forced to watch the grand feast and dance begin right before his eyes.
Victor walked up and wrapped an arm around Alia's waist. He smiled faintly. "Have you picked out a specific torture cell for your 'private' talk?"
Alia winked at him. "Killing him now would be too easy. Let him watch us rule first, bit by bit. Enjoy the party, Victor. The lioness has marked her prey."Morning arrived. Dimitri sat at his office desk, buried under a mountain of files, trying to look busy. His cheek was still tender and red from last night's slap. He hoped the daylight would bring some safety.
Suddenly, without a knock, the heavy office door swung open. Alia walked in.
Today, she looked different. Dressed in a pair of perfectly fitted black leather pants and a crisp white formal shirt, her hair tied in a tight ponytail. She looked less like an underworld queen and more like a high-ranking CIA field officer.
Alia walked slowly to Dimitri's desk. Dimitri looked up from his files, trembling. Without saying a word, Alia sat right on top of Dimitri's desk, facing him. One leg swung casually off the edge, and she toyed with a sharp pencil in her hand.
Dimitri stammered:
"Alia... you're here? I was just... working on my projects..."
Alia stabbed the pencil into the desk's surface and leaned in close to his face, her eyes filled with that same haunting calmness. She whispered:
"Working on projects? Or digging a new grave for yourself? Dimitri, I told you we had to speak 'in private.' Last night's dinner is over; now, our real accounting begins."
Alia snatched a file that Dimitri had been trying to hide. Flipping through it, she gave him a chilling smile.
"Did you think I only knew how to fire a gun? These loan accounts you've been using to drain the family funds... tracking these is child's play for my CIA training. Now tell me, Dimitri, should I hand you over to the police, or call Victor to come and cut off his little brother's hands?"
Beads of sweat began to form on Dimitri's forehead. He realized that within these four walls, he was trapped in a lioness's cage.Dimitri's heart nearly stopped at Alia's sudden move. She slid off the desk and sat directly on Dimitri's lap. Dimitri froze like a statue, his hands trembling uncontrollably. With calculated slowness, Alia gripped Dimitri's tie firmly and jerked him toward her.
Dimitri was forced inches away from her face. Alia's breath hit his skin, but there was no warmth in it—only the icy touch of death. She tightened her grip on the tie, making it hard for him to breathe.
With a haunting smirk, Alia whispered:
"What happened, Dimitri? You were such a lion last night, and now you're shaking like a kitten? Look at me. You sit here playing the gentleman in this tie, but I could take your last breath with this very piece of silk. No one would ever know if it was a CIA 'accidental death' or the weight of your own sins."
Dimitri stammered, "A...Alia... let go... I'll do anything... whatever you say."
Alia pulled the tie even tighter, Dimitri's face flushing a painful red. She stared into his pupils and said coldly:
"I won't kill you yet. Dead, you're of no use to me. I want you to stay in this office like my pet. Whatever I say, whichever file I tell you to sign—you will do it without a word. And if you try to be smart even once, remember—Victor will shoot you from the front, but I will end you from behind, in a way that even your soul won't find an exit."
Alia loosely released the tie and patted his cheek mockingly. She stood up, smoothing out her shirt.
As she walked toward the door, she glanced back over her shoulder:
"Fix your tie, Dimitri. You look a mess. And oh, I have all the passwords to your personal laptop. Don't bother worrying about that anymore."
Alia marched out of the office. Dimitri collapsed into his chair, gasping for air. He realized he hadn't just lost his power; he was now a prisoner in a living hell, and Alia held the keys.Alia didn't back away; instead, she leaned in even closer. She grabbed the tie again and pulled it tight, leaving only inches between their lips.
Alia closed her eyes and took a deep breath near Dimitri's neck. It wasn't a breath of love, but the primal scent of a predator marking its prey. Dimitri, lost in a mix of terror and sudden adrenaline, lost all sense of reality. Trembling, he wrapped his arms around Alia, clutching her waist tightly. In a moment of sheer recklessness, he gave her a lustful touch, trying to claim some sort of power over her.
Alia froze for a split second. Dimitri thought he had found her weakness. But then, a sinister, demonic smirk spread across her lips.
She leaned into his ear and whispered:
"Wow, Dimitri! Such courage. You dare touch me with the same hands that have Victor's blood on them? Do you have any idea what this touch is going to cost you?"
Alia didn't pull away immediately; instead, she twisted the tie even harder, choking him. In a voice as sharp as a razor, she said:
"Your lust and this very touch will be your undoing. Let me remind you of something I learned in the CIA—before you kill an enemy, you give them hope, let them think they're winning, so they walk right into the trap. You're feeling my touch, but I'm checking your pulse points, finding exactly where to strike so you won't even be able to scream."
Suddenly, Alia stood up and stepped away. She straightened her shirt and looked at him with pure pity.
"Did you think you won, Dimitri? By holding me? While you were busy being distracted by my body, I slipped a micro-tracking chip into your pocket. Everywhere you go, everyone you 'touch' I'll be watching."
As she reached the door, she glanced back one last time:
"Take off the tie, Dimitri. It's a noose now. And oh, if Victor ever finds out you touched me like this, he won't just kill you; he'll cut off those hands and feed them to the dogs. Should I call him in?"
Dimitri turned pale. His lust vanished instantly, replaced by a paralyzing fear. He sat there gasping, realizing Alia wasn't just a woman she was a demon in human form.