There was no trace of humanity left within Victor. Alia's defiance, her arrogance born of billions, and the public humiliation of drenching him in wine had reduced Victor to a primal, predatory state. In that lightless room, Alia's desperate pleas for mercy sounded like nothing more than a pathetic melody to his ears.
Victor pinned both of Alia's wrists with one hand, his grip as unyielding as stone. All of Alia's strength to resist vanished in an instant. She lay helpless on the freezing floor.
Victor: (His voice ice-cold) "You wanted to be my equal, didn't you? You wanted to seize my kingdom? Today, I will remind you of your true place. In this room, your money does not speak, your power does not work. Here, only my will prevails."
Alia shook her head repeatedly, her tears streaming down and wetting Victor's hands. But they had no effect on him. With cold-blooded cruelty, he subjected Alia to the ultimate humiliation. Alia's dreams of becoming a "Godmother," her nobility, her stubbornness—everything was ground into the dust of that dark chamber floor.
The room grew heavy with Alia's muffled screams and shattered sobs. By overpowering her physically, Victor didn't just conquer her body; he tore her soul into pieces. He showed her that no matter how much a bird in an iron cage flutters its wings, there is no escape from the hunter.
A long time later, when Victor finally stepped away, Alia remained motionless on the floor. Her clothes were torn, her hair disheveled. Her eyes were hollow, as if all the light of her life had been extinguished.
Victor calmly adjusted his clothes and picked up his whip from the floor. He walked toward the door without glancing back even once.
Victor: (Standing by the door before leaving) "I hope you now understand the price of insulting Viktor Alexeyevich. From this day forward, you are nothing but a slave I have bought. Nothing more."
The door slammed shut with a deafening thud, and the familiar sound of the lock clicking into place echoed through the room. Alia was left alone in the congealed darkness violated, humiliated, and utterly defeated.Just as Alia stood up, shivering in pain, she let out a piercing scream—"Ahhhhh!" The agony of her body and soul seemed to turn her into stone. She leaned against the wall, trying to find her balance.
Suddenly, the door burst open. It wasn't a guard, but her eldest son. He was tall for his age, a mirror image of Victor in stature and sternness. Seeing his mother's disheveled state, he froze. He rushed to her and embraced her tightly.
Son: "Mom! What happened to you? Did Dad do something?"
Alia shuddered for a moment. In her son's touch, she saw the harshest truth of her life. She wiped her tears, straightened her torn clothes, and gave a strange, poisonous smile. She tilted his chin up.
Alia: "Nothing, my son... nothing is wrong. This is just what happens when you give birth at too young an age—the pain and humiliation never truly end. I was so young when you were born, perhaps that's why my fate remains so scarred. My happiness was too short-lived; my thirst for peace has not yet been quenched."
Her words were cryptic. The boy couldn't grasp the depth of her bitterness, but he felt that his mother was no longer the same person. The gentle mother within Alia died that night, replaced by a woman of vengeance who would perhaps one day use her own children to destroy Victor. While Alia struggled with her pain upstairs, Victor felt no remorse. Instead, a demonic sense of triumph consumed him. He went straight down to his luxurious living room.Victor sat reclined on his massive leather sofa. He had changed into a fresh silk shirt, and a beautiful maid was sitting on his lap. Though she was stiff with fear, she didn't dare look away. Victor caressed her with utter indifference, as if she weren't a human being but just another trophy in his collection.
He lit an expensive cigarette with one hand, blowing smoke into the air. Before him on the table lay a multi-billion dollar business deal. He glanced at it dismissively, flicking his cigarette ash onto the contract.
He knew Alia was crying upstairs; he knew his eldest son had gone to her—but Victor felt invincible today. He tilted the maid's chin up and smirked through the smoke.
"Women dream of power," Victor said in a low, cold voice, "and men use power to buy women. That is the way of the world."
He had no idea that just one floor above, his own blood his eldest son stood as a witness to his mother's humiliation. While Victor was distracted by lust and deals, the very foundation of his empire had begun to crack.Alia's voice was filled with a stony silence. She looked into her eldest son's eyes eyes that were as blue and sharp as Victor's. She didn't want him to see her broken state any longer, nor did she want him to make a reckless move after seeing Victor's debauchery downstairs.Alia slowly pulled her hand away from her son's grip. She turned toward the window, watching the falling snow.
Alia: (In a calm but commanding tone) "It's late. Go to your penthouse now. The car is ready downstairs. Let me be alone for a while."
The boy wanted to argue, but the coldness in Alia's eyes silenced him. He knew that when she spoke in this tone, there was no room for debate. He left the room, and soon, Alia heard the sound of the car engine starting outside.
Now, she was truly alone. She changed out of her torn clothes into a black silk gown. Standing before the mirror, she wiped the blood from the corner of her lip. She wasn't crying anymore. It was time to activate her billions and the 'virus' she had planted in Victor's empire.Alia's calm has transformed into a lethal storm. She realized that to destroy Victor, she must become a hauntingly beautiful nightmare. She chose an outfit that was both regal and catastrophic.As Alia descended the stairs, she looked like a vision of dark elegance.
Front Detail: The front featured a delicate black silk bralette with intricate lace detailing, covered by a sheer silk robe. In her hand, she carried a wine glass where the red liquid shimmered like poison.
Back Detail: The back was completely exposed, held together only by thin, criss-cross straps spread across her skin. It wasn't just a dress; it was a trap designed to blind Victor with lust.
She walked down slowly, a thick cigarette in one hand and her glass in the other. She stood at the base of the stairs and blew a cloud of smoke toward Victor. "Viktor Alexeyevich," she said in a low, mesmerizing voice, "enough playing with maids. Shall we start the game with a real player?"
Victor was stunned. He had seen Alia in many forms, but this version of her the siren of his destruction was something he wasn't prepared for.The sight of Alia in her lethal new form left Victor completely mesmerized. Before him stood no captive woman, but a literal flame, burning with a cold, calculated intensity. With a dismissive glance and a sharp flick of her finger, Alia signaled the maid to leave. Under Victor's hypnotic gaze, the maid hurriedly vanished from the room without a word.
The vast living room was now silent, occupied only by Alia and Victor. Alia stepped toward him slowly, her movements feline. On her feet were the iconic Cesare Paciotti high heels, their signature scarlet soles clicking against the marble floor like the ticking of a countdown.
Alia stood directly over Victor. With provocative grace, she raised her leg and pressed the sharp heel of her Cesare Paciotti shoe against the center of Victor's chest. Right where she had poured the wine on his white shirt earlier, she now branded him with her heel.
Victor was stunned by her audacity, yet his body refused to obey his mind. Even under the pressure of her shoe, he felt a dark, twisted fascination. Alia leaned down further, inches from his face. Taking a deep drag from her thick cigarette, she blew a cloud of smoke (Fu) directly into Victor's eyes.
Alia: (In a low, husky whisper) "Viktor Alexeyevich... you took so much pride in this chest, didn't you? Now look
your ego is being crushed under my heel. You wanted me to be your slave, yet here you are, becoming a prisoner to my shadow."
Victor reached out to grab her waist, but Alia skillfully danced back, just out of reach. She brought her wine glass to his chin, grazing his skin with the cold crystal.
Alia: "Don't be in such a hurry, Victor. The night is long. Tonight, I will show you how terrifying a woman becomes when she has nothing left to lose. You wanted my body? I will give you a night that will burn your very soul to ashes."Alia's moves are now pulling Victor toward an inevitable downfall. As Victor remains fully under her spell, Alia takes a bold step to assert absolute dominance.
Moving even closer, Alia suddenly reached out and grabbed Victor's tie with a firm grip. With a violent pull, she dragged him halfway up from the sofa. Victor's face was now inches from hers, their breaths mingling in the tense air. Alia didn't care if he was gasping for air; her eyes reflected only the searing flames of vengeance.
Alia: (Whispering directly into his eyes) "Viktor Alexeyevich... this tie was the symbol of your status, wasn't it? Today, it has become your noose. You wanted me under your feet, but look your own leash is in my hands."
She tightened her grip on the silk fabric. For a moment, Victor was paralyzed by her aggression. He realized that the woman he had humiliated now controlled his very breath. Alia flicked the embers of her cigarette onto the floor, pulling him even closer.
Alia: "Victor, the keys to your empire and your very life both now follow my lead. I could tighten this knot right now if I chose."