After the storm had finally passed, the room grew eerily still. Viktor, ever the strategist, knew exactly how to discard his monstrous skin and don the mask of a sophisticated billionaire.Viktor stood up from the wreckage of the bed, showing no signs of exhaustion. Instead, he looked revitalized by his dark victory. He looked down at the shattered Alia and gave a chilling command: "Get up. We have a reputation to maintain."
Viktor dressed with meticulous care. He chose a bespoke charcoal-black suit, fastened a multi-million dollar Rolex around his wrist, and tucked a solid gold lighter into his pocket. As he adjusted his tie in the mirror, he looked every bit the powerful tycoon the world feared and admired.
Alia's body screamed in pain as she forced herself to rise. The horrors of the night
the white fluid, the filthy insults, and the shuddering creak of the bed were now secrets buried deep within her. She moved like a ghost, washing away the evidence of her violation. She donned a breathtaking designer silk gown and used heavy layers of expensive makeup to conceal the bruises on her neck and the hollow sadness in her eyes. Looking in the mirror, she looked flawless—a perfect, silent doll.
The Arrival at the Billionaire Hotel:
The scene outside the hotel was one of immense power. A fleet of black luxury cars pulled up, surrounded by a wall of stern bodyguards. When the door opened, Viktor stepped out and, with the grace of a true gentleman, offered his hand to Alia. To the flashing cameras and the onlookers, they were the world's most glamorous power couple.
As they walked toward the gold-gilded entrance, Viktor's hand slid to the small of her back, his grip firm and possessive. The bodyguards cleared a path, bowing their heads in respect. Viktor leaned in and whispered so only she could hear:
"Smile, Alia. Remind them why you are the Queen, even if we both know you are my slave."The atmosphere at the billionaire hotel was electric. As Alia stepped out of the luxury car, the world seemed to stop. She was wearing a daring, avant-garde black gown that redefined elegance with a dangerous edge.The Dress: Alia wore a stunning black floor-length gown featuring intricate cut-outs that accentuated her slender waist and curves. The back of the dress was almost entirely open, held together by a complex web of delicate black cords that mimicked the structure of a spiderweb, punctuated by silver rings.
The Butterfly Motif: A striking silver butterfly adornment sat at the base of her spine, shimmering under the hotel's grand chandeliers. Interestingly, she also had a matching butterfly tattoo on her abdomen, visible through the dress's front cut-out, symbolizing a fragile beauty trapped in a dark world.
The Accessories: She carried a shimmering, diamond-encrusted clutch that caught the light with every step, and her feet were adorned with high-gloss black stilettos with sharp metallic heels.As she walked through the lobby, a wave of whispers followed her. Men stopped mid-conversation and women turned their heads in envy. The phrase "Sexy Lady" was whispered by several guests as they marveled at her poise.
Despite the physical toll of the morning, Alia moved with a practiced, feline grace. She looked every bit the billionaire's queen—cold, beautiful, and untouchable. Only she and Viktor knew the truth hidden beneath the silk and makeup: the skin under those cords was still sensitive from his touch, and her heart was still heavy with the memory of her son's voice.
Viktor leaned in, his hand tightening on her waist, pulling her closer so the crowd could see she was his property. He whispered with a smug grin:
"Look at them, Alia. They all want you, but they don't realize you've already been broken today. Smile for your fans."As Alia glided through the luxury hotel lobby, her daring outfit made her the center of every conversation. The intricate web of cords across her bare back and the silver butterfly shimmering at the base of her spine gave her a dangerously seductive aura. While the elite crowd whispered about the "sexy lady" in black, Alia felt like a walking corpse draped in silk.Viktor led her toward their VIP table with the arrogance of a conqueror. His bodyguards formed a human wall, pushing aside anyone in their path.
The Shattered Glass:
Just as they approached the table, Alia's eyes locked onto a young man standing at the bar. It was her eldest son. The moment he saw his mother in such a revealing dress, held possessively by the man who had destroyed their family, his hand trembled. His glass slipped, shattering loudly on the marble floor. The look in his eyes wasn't just shock—it was pure, agonizing betrayal.
Viktor's Cruel Command:
Viktor didn't flinch. Instead, he dug his fingers into the soft skin of Alia's waist, pulling her flush against his side. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered:
"Look at him, Alia. Your precious son is watching. If you shed a single tear or show any weakness now, I'll make sure he never reaches home tonight. Smile, my queen. Show him how much you 'enjoy' being mine."
The Mask of Deception:
Choking back a sob that threatened to tear her throat apart, Alia did the unthinkable. She looked directly at her son and offered a cold, artificial smile—the smile of a woman who didn't care. Her butterfly tattoo flickered under the dim VIP lights, a cruel irony of a creature that symbolizes freedom while she was pinned like a specimen under Viktor's thumb.
Unable to bear the sight, her son turned and stumbled out of the hotel, his heart broken by the mother he no longer recognized. Underneath the table, Alia dug her sharp nails into her own palms until they bled, using the physical pain to keep her screams at bay.
Viktor signaled the waiter for the most expensive vintage wine, raising his glass to Alia in a silent, victorious toast.The refined atmosphere of the billionaire hotel shattered in an instant. While Viktor was basking in his twisted victory, a young woman and a man approached their table. They were likely the arrogant children of one of Viktor's business rivals, and they had no idea who they were provoked.The girl looked at Alia's daring dress and her submissive posture with a sneer of pure disgust. She began hurling vile insults, loud enough for nearby tables to hear. "You look like nothing more than a high-priced mistress," she mocked. "How much did Viktor pay to own you? Girls as cheap as you don't belong at this dinner table; you belong in the gutter." The boy joined in, using filthy language to attack Alia's character.
The Blood of a Godmother:
Alia had been silent out of fear for her children, but at that moment, the Russian Mafia Godmother dormant within her surged to life. When the girl raised her glass to splash wine over Alia's face, Alia's patience snapped. Her eyes were no longer filled with tears; they turned cold, sharp, and deadly like shards of ice.
The Bone-Crushing Strike:
Before Viktor or the bodyguards could react, Alia lunged across the table like a tigress. She grabbed the girl's hair in a fist of steel and, without a shred of mercy, smashed her head onto the marble tabletop with terrifying force.
"CRACK!" — The sound of bone meeting stone echoed through the silent restaurant.
The Deadly Warning:
Expensive crystal glasses shattered, and blood instantly stained the white linen tablecloth a deep crimson. Alia leaned down, her lips inches from the girl's ear, and hissed in a voice that chilled the blood of everyone present:
"Do not forget who I am. I am Alia. Since when do jackals like you find the courage to lay a finger on a lioness?"
A Stunned Silence:
The entire hotel went deathly quiet. Even Viktor looked stunned by the sudden explosion of violence, though a dark, psychotic smile began to crawl across his face. Before the boy could even breathe, Alia picked up a silver steak fork and pointed it at his throat with a steady, lethal hand. He stumbled back, trembling in pure terror.The situation turned deadly in a split second. As the girl lay bleeding on the table, her companion—blinded by rage—reached for a weapon to strike Alia. But he had forgotten one crucial thing: he was facing a predator, not a victim.As the boy lunged, Alia moved with the fluid, lethal grace of the Russian Mafia Godmother. Before Viktor's own bodyguards could even draw their breath, Alia pulled a small, concealed pistol from the slit of her gown. With cold, calculated precision, she shot him in the leg. The deafening crack of the gunshot echoed through the grand dining hall, followed by the boy's piercing scream as he collapsed onto the marble floor.Pandemonium broke out, but it was cut short when an older man, a well-known figure in the underworld, rushed from the crowd. He froze the moment his eyes met Alia's. He didn't see a "sexy lady" in a dress; he saw the legendary Godmother who could erase his entire bloodline with a single phone call.Ignoring his son's agony on the floor, the father rushed forward and bowed his head in deep shame, tears streaming down his face. He trembled with genuine terror as he begged for mercy:
"Godmother... please, forgive us. My foolish son had no idea whose presence he was in. He deserves this punishment for disrespecting you. Please, do not take our lives. I beg of you, Mother."
The Silent Agony of a Queen:
Alia stood there, the smoking gun still in her hand, her face a mask of stone. But behind that mask, her heart was shattering. Seeing the father's tears for his son made her think of her own children, and the silent tears she had shed earlier that morning. She was powerful enough to make a grown man cry for mercy, yet she was still a prisoner to Viktor's obsession.
Viktor, who had watched the entire spectacle while sipping his wine, stood up and clapped slowly. He wrapped a possessive arm around Alia's waist, leaning into the terrified father. "Take your trash and leave," Viktor hissed. "And remember touching Alia is like inviting a volcanic eruption."