Alia's sudden display of dominance left Victor in a state of complete trance. When she finally released his tie and stood tall, her face bore the cold, triumphant smile of a victor. She knew that the psychological blow she had dealt tonight coupled with her haunting allure would stay etched in Victor's mind forever.
Alia looked into Victor's eyes for one last second and gave a faint, mocking smile. With a voice as smooth as velvet, she whispered, "Bye, Viktor Alexeyevich. Make sure to write tonight's date in your diary."
She began to walk toward the grand staircase with deliberate, slow steps. As she ascended toward her room, Victor stared from below, utterly mesmerized. The black silk dress she wore looked like a beautiful trap.
The Back View: As Alia climbed the stairs, the back of her dress was fully revealed. The intricate web of thin, criss-crossed straps against her bare skin served as a final, taunting reminder to Victor: he could never truly own what he tried to conquer. Every step she took radiated a newfound authority, signaling that she was no longer a prisoner of this mansion, but its true mistress.
Just before entering her room, Alia paused at the threshold but did not look back. She took the final sip of her wine and stepped inside. The heavy thud of the door closing finally snapped Victor back to reality, but by then, the spell had been cast and the trap was set.
Inside her room, Alia immediately picked up her satellite phone. She knew Victor was at his most vulnerable point distracted, shaken, and intoxicated by her. She sent a single word to Dmitri: "Execute." Alia's one "No" changed the entire course of the plan. Just as Dmitri and his team were about to pull the trigger, her message arrived.Dmitri's screen flashed: "Wait. Do not execute." He was stunned. They were in position, ready to end Victor's reign. But why did Alia stop them?
Standing by her window, Alia looked into the darkness. She knew killing Victor was easy, but breaking him piece by piece was far more satisfying. She didn't want him to die a hero; she wanted him to watch his empire crumble before his eyes.
"No, Victor," she thought. "I won't give you an easy escape. The humiliation you put me through tonight won't be settled by blood alone. I will take you to a place where you have billions in cash but not a drop of dignity."
She sent new instructions:
Drain the Funds: Start transferring from his main accounts immediately.
Sabotage the Deal: Change the back-end code of the contract on the table so that the moment he signs, it transfers to her company.
Protect the Son: Send extra guards to the penthouse; Victor must not reach him.
Downstairs, Victor stared at the stairs, wondering if Alia had truly changed. He had no idea she had just spared his life only to bury him in a deeper hell.Alia's mind was now a cold, calculated storm of triumph. She locked her door, cutting herself off from the world. She turned on her speakers, and the heavy bass of the Russian drill track "Отключаю телефон" (prod. by realmoneyken) filled the room.
The rhythm was cold, matching her heartbeat. She threw her satellite phone onto the bed she was literally 'turning off her phone' to the world, but not before her final orders reached Dmitri.
With a wine glass in one hand, she stood by the window, swaying slowly to the dark beats of the music. The deep red of the wine looked like blood under the dim lamplight. The lyrics echoed her mood: "I'm turning off my phone... I don't want anyone to reach me..."
She took a slow sip. Downstairs, Victor thought he had conquered her, humiliated her. But Alia knew better. Tonight was Victor's last night of royalty. Tomorrow, he would wake up to find his networks dead, his accounts empty, and his empire stolen.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She wasn't just a mother or a wife anymore; she was the 'Godmother' who had turned her pain into a weapon. Increasing the volume, she whispered to herself:
"Tonight I turn off my phone, Victor. Tomorrow, I turn off your life." Victor, flush with rage and lust, found the door unlocked. He burst in and, before Alia could react, pinned her against the wall.
The Front: Alia's chest was pressed hard against the cold wall, her lace-trimmed robe sliding lower with the friction.
The Back: Victor pressed his muscular chest directly against Alia's bare back, crushing the delicate criss-cross straps of her dress. The heat of his body collided with her icy skin.
"You thought turning off the world would save you?" Victor growled into her ear. "You can step on my chest with your heels, but in the end, you are crushed under it."
Alia, pinned and helpless in appearance, smiled against the wall. She had him exactly where she wanted consumed by his own obsession.The ice-cold Moscow night grew even more silent. The heavy bass of the drill music came to an abrupt halt—leaving only the faint, rhythmic sound of snow hitting the windowpane. While outside in the Russian capital, the temperature plummeted to -20^ turning everything into frozen stone, the heat inside this room defied all limits.
Alia remained pinned against the wall, her gaze fixed on the thick, white ice accumulating on the glass. Victor pressed the weight of his chest against her, his hand sliding slowly down from her shoulder.
His fingers were now grazing the thin black ribbons on Alia's exposed back. These silk ties were the only thing holding her dress in place. Victor ran his fingers along one of the ribbons with agonizing slowness, as if plucking the strings of a harp.
Victor: (Whispering right against the nape of her neck) "The Moscow ice is freezing everything outside, Alia, but your body is burning like fire. Can these ribbons really save you? Or will you be completely destitute before me once they are undone?"
Alia felt his fingers settle on the delicate knot. One pull would mean her expensive black dress would pool onto the floor. Victor buried his face in her hair and began to slowly tug at the silk ribbon.
Alia: (Her voice trembling, but her eyes sharp with a cunning smile) "Many lose their way in the Moscow snow, Victor. Are you certain you can find your way out of this labyrinth? If you untie this ribbon, you won't find me you will only find your own destruction."
Victor didn't listen. He wanted to establish his absolute right over her by the touch of that ribbon. Outside, the Moscow sky let down an even heavier blanket of snow, as if the coldness of nature was trying to shroud Alia's next lethal move.Alia's cunning smile suddenly twisted into a demonic rage. She could no longer endure it. The moment Victor's fingers attempted to undo the final knot of her dress, Alia spun around with every ounce of strength in her body.
In one swift motion, she tore herself away from the wall. Before Victor could react, Alia swung her right hand and delivered a stinging slap across his face. Then, she slammed the sharp heel of her Cesare Paciotti shoe into his foot and began raining blows upon his chest with both fists.
Alia: (Screaming) "You son of a bitch! Did you think I was your puppet? Did you think I was weak?"
But Victor remained unfazed by her outburst. He absorbed every strike with chilling indifference. Then, in one sudden move, he grabbed both her wrists, pinned them above her head, and slammed her back against the wall. Victor leaned in close, pressing a single finger against her lips.
Victor: (In a deadly calm and deep voice) "Shhhhh... Quiet. Be completely still. Did you really think I was a fool? Did you think your 'Shadow Hand' team could roam the streets of Moscow without my men knowing? All your plans, all your deals, and your phone everything is under my control. Everything is shut down."
Alia froze. Her pupils trembled with shock. Victor pulled her satellite phone the one she had tossed onto the bed from his pocket and showed it to her. The screen was shattered.
Victor: "I know exactly what message you sent to Dmitri. But unfortunately, my IT team intercepted and deleted it before it could ever reach him. Now, in this room, there is only you, there is only me, and the Moscow snowfall outside. There is no one in between."
Alia realized the truth: the hunter had not fallen into her trap today; the hunter had been setting a trap of his own all along.The power dynamic in the room shifted instantly. The chilling realization that her plan had failed left Alia paralyzed, and Victor, sensing his total victory, moved to claim his prize in the most dominant way possible.With Alia's wrists still pinned firmly above her head, Victor leaned down. He didn't want to hear her protests anymore; he wanted her to feel the weight of his possession. He moved his head past her ear, his warm breath contrasting sharply with the freezing Moscow air seeping through the glass.
Slowly, deliberately, Victor pressed his lips against the curve of her neck. He gave her a deep, lingering kiss right on the sensitive pulse point of her throat.
The room was deathly silent, save for the sound of the wind howling outside. Alia's body stiffened. This wasn't just a gesture of affection; it was Victor's way of marking his territory, proving that despite all her billions and her secret agents, she was currently within his grasp.
Victor: (Muttering against her skin, his voice vibrating through her) "You taste like rebellion, Alia. But remember... in this city, even the fiercest rivers freeze under the Russian winter. And tonight, you are mine to freeze or to melt."
Alia closed her eyes tight. The feeling of his lips against her neck sent a shiver down her spine not of pleasure, but of a terrifying realization. He was right. For the first time in years, she was truly trapped. The "Shadow Hand" was silent, the phone was broken, and Victor was closer than he had ever been.