(Setting: The path from the Moscow palace to Ivan's luxurious hotel. Time: 10:00 AM.)
1.0 Departure and Companions
After Victor's intense kiss, Alia regained her composure. She quickly tidied her long, loosened hair. Her eyes now held no hesitation, only queenly authority.
Victor (Stepping back, a victor's smile on his lips): "You truly are a stolen light today, Alia. Now, come. We are late congratulating your brother."
Alia gave no reply, shooting Victor a sharp, yellow-eyed glance, as if reminding him—she had not yet been defeated in this game.
The two exited the grand dressing room. Victor appeared completely composed, as if the emotional scene moments ago had never happened.
A long, black Rolls-Royce was waiting at the main gate of the palace. Alia and Victor walked towards it. Alia carried a jewelry box in her hand. This box contained a special family gift for her brother's bride—a blend of Indian and Russian jewelry. Victor carefully opened the car door and helped Alia get in. Before entering, Alia looked back. Her security detail stood ready:
Maria: Alia's trusted maid and friend, holding the wrapping of the most expensive and personal gift.
Bodyguards: Alexei, the head of Victor and Alia's personal security team, along with two other bodyguards. They held larger, corporate gifts. Alexei saluted, preparing to follow them closely.
2.0 Silence Inside the Car
Victor sat next to Alia. The interior of the car was silent. Victor looked at Alia.
Victor (Reaching out his hand towards Alia): "Give me your hand."
Alia hesitated at first, but then extended her right hand. Victor took her hand with his cool fingers and squeezed gently.
Victor (In a calm but firm voice): "I know what you are thinking. But tonight is only for our brother. Today is not a war, only peace."
Alia (Without trying to pull her hand away, staring ahead): "Let my thoughts remain mine, my Lord. You manage your empire."
Victor smiled faintly. He knew that behind every word from Alia lay the fire of her rebellion.
3.0 Arrival at the Destination
Their car moved smoothly along the Moscow streets. Alexei's bodyguard car followed closely behind them.
Soon, they arrived in front of the hotel where Ivan was getting married—a magnificent structure of crystal and marble, symbolizing Ivan's financial power.
The car stopped. First, Alexei got out after opening the door and scanned the surroundings. Then, Victor and Alia stepped out together. Victor looked extremely influential with his long, white hair's aristocracy and his Russian-style attire. Alia, in her golden-red dress and the intensity of her yellow eyes, looked like an Eastern queen. Victor gently placed his hand on Alia's back, as if announcing—this Queen belongs only to him. Alia tolerated this possessiveness, as for this moment, they were only family members and guests. Maria and Alexei stood behind them, ready with the gifts.
They proceeded towards the hotel's main ballroom, where their brother Ivan, his new bride, and a new, complex family life awaited them. The Portrait of Power: Ivan's Wedding Stage
The bride and groom stood in the center. Laboni held Ivan's hand with utmost humility.
Alia and Victor: Alia stood to one side of Ivan. Her golden-red lehenga created a sharp contrast against Laboni's white attire. Victor took his place immediately next to Alia.
2.0 Victor's Assertion of Ownership
As the cameraman called for them to pose for the picture, Victor subtly placed his left hand just above Alia's waist. It was on her back, where the back of her blouse was exposed. Victor's fingers applied pressure to Alia's sensitive spot.
Alia knew this was not merely a touch of affection; it was a symbol of possession. If this photo went public, Victor would be announcing to the world—this Queen of mixed heritage belonged exclusively to him.
Alia forced a superficial smile onto her lips, ensuring no sign of her pain or anger showed. However, her yellow eyes darted towards Victor for a fleeting moment—a silent threat.
Victor noticed Alia's silence and the momentary rebellion in her eyes. He gently brought his lips close to Alia's ear and whispered in Russian:
Victor (In Russian): "Smile, Queen. Let the shadow of your rebellion not fall upon this sacred frame. Today's light is only for me."
(Russian: 'Улыбнись, Королева. Тень твоего бунта не должна попасть в эту священную рамку. Сегодня свет только для меня।')
3.0 The Camera Flash and Alia's Resolve
Alia then smiled even more brilliantly. Her smile was perfect, but the resolve within her was as hard as steel.
She convinced herself: this moment belongs to Victor, but her entire life belongs to her. Even while standing next to Victor, enduring the pressure of his fingers on her waist, she thought:
Alia (Internal Monologue): "The picture is yours, my Lord. But the story is mine. In this picture, I am your Queen, but in reality, I am your greatest vulnerability."
As Alia stood next to Victor for the photograph, her long braid and her Bengali-Russian jewellery glittered as symbols of her mixed heritage. Victor, with the aristocracy of his white hair and the coolness of his blue eyes, stood as the ultimate symbol of power. The camera flashed. A perfect family photo was captured, freezing in one frame love, power, and the unshakeable resolve for revenge.2.0 Victor's Assertion of Ownership
As the cameraman called for them to pose for the picture, Victor subtly placed his left hand just above Alia's waist. It was on her back, where the back of her blouse was exposed. Victor's fingers applied pressure to Alia's sensitive spot.
Alia knew this was not merely a touch of affection; it was a symbol of possession. If this photo went public, Victor would be announcing to the world—this Queen of mixed heritage belonged exclusively to him.
Alia forced a superficial smile onto her lips, ensuring no sign of her pain or anger showed. However, her yellow eyes darted towards Victor for a fleeting moment—a silent threat.
Victor noticed Alia's silence and the momentary rebellion in her eyes. He gently brought his lips close to Alia's ear and whispered in Russian:
Victor (In Russian): "Smile, Queen. Let the shadow of your rebellion not fall upon this sacred frame. Today's light is only for me."
(Russian: 'Улыбнись, Королева. Тень твоего бунта не должна попасть в эту священную рамку. Сегодня свет только для меня।')
3.0 The Camera Flash and Alia's Resolve
Alia then smiled even more brilliantly. Her smile was perfect, but the resolve within her was as hard as steel.
She convinced herself: this moment belongs to Victor, but her entire life belongs to her. Even while standing next to Victor, enduring the pressure of his fingers on her waist, she thought:
Alia (Internal Monologue): "The picture is yours, my Lord. But the story is mine. In this picture, I am your Queen, but in reality, I am your greatest vulnerability."
As Alia stood next to Victor for the photograph, her long braid and her Bengali-Russian jewellery glittered as symbols of her mixed heritage. Victor, with the aristocracy of his white hair and the coolness of his blue eyes, stood as the ultimate symbol of power. The camera flashed. A perfect family photo was captured, freezing in one frame love, power, and the unshakeable resolve for revenge.Love is Duty: The Soft Captivity
(Scene: Bedroom, Waking Victor)
Alia lay on Victor's chest for a while longer, listening to his heartbeat. But the soft morning light reminded her that Victor's duty wouldn't let him sleep for long. Alia gently lifted her head and looked at Victor's face.
Alia: (A little louder, but in a sweet voice) "Mister Officer, how much longer will you keep your princess waiting like this? Your duty call might be coming again."
Victor didn't answer, he just wrapped his arms around Alia's waist and pulled her closer to him.
Alia: (Laughing, whispering into his ear) "Victor. Open your eyes. I want to start a game with your Mafia Godmother again. And you can't spend my game asleep."
Alia's whisper worked. Victor's blue eyes slowly opened. For the first few seconds, his eyes were only filled with deep sleep. But when he saw Alia's completely naked, coy face, his eyes sparked with mischief and deep love.
Victor: (Voice husky, still groggy) "A game? My princess exhausted me so much last night that I feel like I'll sleep for a week straight."
Victor gently stroked Alia's back.
Alia: (With a triumphant smile in her eyes) "Then your punishment is... that your entire day's duty is given to me. Today, I will look after your duty. What do you say, Mister Officer?"
Hearing Alia's last words, Victor couldn't hold back anymore. A deep, contented laugh spread across his face—a laugh rare in his professional life. Alia felt the tremor of his laughter in his chest.
Victor: (Laughing, gently stroking Alia's hair) "Ha ha ha! Alia, you truly are a raging storm. You made me do things last night that I wouldn't dare to do in seven years of my duty life. And now you want to steal my duty?"
He pulled Alia closer and placed a long, warm kiss on her forehead.
Victor: "It's not that easy to steal my duty, naughty girl. But... today I am your prisoner. I accept the reign of your 'Mafia Godmother.' What will you do with my duty today?"
Alia then looked at Victor and laughed with mischievous eyes. A new game plan was shining in her eyes.
The Morning Duties
Hearing Victor's words, Alia's smile widened. She moved up slightly on Victor's chest so that their eyes met. Her eyes were now a mix of regal pride and deep love.
Alia: (With wifely authority, in a sweet ruler's tone) "First, you have to forget that word 'duty,' Mister Officer. Today, your only duty is to make me happy."
She placed a gentle kiss in the middle of Victor's white hair.
Alia: "And my game? My game is... Last night you took off all my clothes, and I supposedly can't even remember when. Today, my first duty will be—for you to dress me. However... very slowly, and there will be a reward for every piece of clothing."
Alia paused for a moment, then gave a deep hint with her eyes.
Alia: "And the second duty? The second duty is—you have to make the city's most expensive coffee and breakfast for me today. A breakfast from a Mafia Lord is what I need."
Victor understood both the hint and the mischief hidden in her words. He laughed, agreeing to Alia's game.
Victor smiled gently again at Alia's conditions. Alia's every condition was laced with love and mischief—which Victor thoroughly enjoyed. He was ready to accept the challenge of her game.
Victor removed his hand from Alia's back and gently cupped her chin.
Victor: (With determination in his eyes, but playful amusement in his voice) "Alright, my Godmother. Challenge accepted. The duty of dressing me... that too with the lure of a reward... I will gladly fulfill this duty."
He pulled Alia closer.
Victor: "But I have one condition, Princess. When you send me to the kitchen for the breakfast duty, you must stay in this room... not in any other clothes except your white latex dress. I want you to wait for me in this bed for my return."
Victor didn't finish the rest of his sentence. He pulled Alia down on the bed and prepared for a deep, long kiss.
Victor: "And the coffee? Remember, the coffee that Mister Officer makes... will be the warmest and strongest coffee of your life."
Their warmth and restlessness mingled in the dawn light. They prepared for the next phase of their game.
The Dressing Game Begins
As Victor pulled Alia down on the bed, ready to kiss her, Alia suddenly burst into laughter. Neither Victor's challenge to make strong coffee nor his condition seemed to be the real issue for Alia.
Victor paused slightly and looked at Alia.
Alia: (Laughing wholeheartedly, running her hand through Victor's white hair) "Victor, what are you doing! Mister Officer, are you forgetting your duty? The first duty is still pending! You're trying to undress me again before the dressing duty even starts?"
There was no complaint in Alia's laughter, only extreme mischief and love. She made it clear—their game would proceed according to her rules.
Alia: "First the dressing, then the coffee. Come on, let's start. Let your princess get her first reward now."
Alia then leaned back comfortably on the bed, looking at Victor with eyes of anticipation. She was instructing her Mafia Lord—start playing!
Victor's resistance crumbled before Alia's firm laugh and mischief. He understood that Alia was the supreme ruler in this game. He looked at Alia and nodded, a loving captive's smile now on his face.
Victor got out of bed. Alia shivered slightly looking at his well-built body. Victor walked calmly towards Alia's wardrobe in one corner of the room.
The first duty was dressing—but Alia had hinted that it wouldn't be quick, and there would be a reward for every piece of clothing.
Victor carefully retrieved Alia's lingerie (Lingerie) from her cabinet. It was black silk work, just as attractive as her white latex dress.
He slowly returned to Alia.
Victor: (In a calm, deep voice) "My Godmother, your first duty is beginning. To put on this garment, I must come close to you now. But... you said there would be a reward for every garment. Allow your Lord to take that reward."
Alia then positioned her body on the bed in an even more attractive posture.
Alia: (Voice slightly heavy) "Your first reward, Mister Officer, you must take right now. Before you dress me, prove with your hands how attractive I am."
Victor didn't wait any longer. He slowly moved towards Alia. Holding the black lingerie in his hand, he began to lean over Alia's body. The warmth between them intensified in the sunlight. This was the most exciting moment of their game—the reward before the dressing.
It took quite some time to complete the dressing process. When Alia's body was slowly covered in the black silk lingerie, her face clearly showed contentment and excitement.
Alia: (Taking a deep breath) "Excellent. Now, my second duty—coffee and breakfast. Remember, I am waiting, but if my coffee gets cold, your second reward will be canceled."
Victor gave Alia another deep kiss and quickly rushed toward the kitchen. He was now a Mafia Lord, whose duty was to prepare breakfast for his princess.
Kitchen and Bedroom
The huge, modern kitchen of the ice palace. There stood Victor, who moments ago was a stern officer or a romantic lover, now concentrating on making coffee. The upper part of his body was completely bare except for his black pants, clearly showing his muscular build. He was measuring the coffee beans, his blue eyes focused on finishing the duty assigned by Alia.
He quickly arranged some fresh French toast and fruit on a plate. Although he wasn't a Mafia Lord, a naughty smile appeared on his face while preparing this breakfast for Alia. He remembered Alia's words: 'The coffee must not get cold.'
Victor quickly left the kitchen, a coffee mug in one hand and the tray in the other. Though his walk held the sternness of an officer, the caution with which he held the tray revealed the care for his lover.
(Scene: Bedroom, The Godmother Waits)
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Alia was still comfortably sitting on the bed. Her body was now only covered in black silk lingerie, which made her nudity even more attractive. She was leaning against a large pillow, looking out the window, but her attention was fixed on the door.
The residual excitement of last night's game was still on her face. She was gently gripping the bedsheets with her fingers, the anticipation of waiting intensifying. She knew Victor was coming.
Alia: (In her mind) Amazing! I force him to do my duty, and he does it so quickly and so beautifully? Can a Mafia Lord be so obedient?
She smiled to herself. Just before her smile faded, there was a gentle sound at the door.
(Scene: Kitchen to Bedroom)
Victor entered the bedroom with the coffee and breakfast tray. He gently placed the tray beside the bed. His gaze was fixed on Alia.
Victor: (Voice deep, a little tired but satisfied) "Your breakfast, Godmother. The coffee is perfectly warm and strong—just as you wished. My duty is over. Is there no reward for me in your reign now?"
Alia then got up from the bed. She took the coffee mug from the tray, but her eyes were on Victor's muscular body.
Alia: (With an admiring gaze) "Mister Officer, do you know that your shirtless body is much more attractive right now than the coffee you made? Maybe that's why I sent you to the kitchen this morning."
Alia sipped the warm coffee and began to hint at her second reward for Victor.
The Secret Mission in Italy
(Scene 1: Outside the Palace, The Signal)
Alia and Victor finished their dressing game and warm breakfast. As they stepped out of the ice palace, the cold outdoor air touched them, as if reminding them of the real complexities of their lives.
Before getting into the car, Victor handed Alia a small, shiny black USB drive.
Victor: (Eyes alert) "Today's duty is over, Godmother. But my real duty awaits. Answer this silent signal of mine tomorrow morning."
Alia laughed. This was Victor—the warmth of love and the alertness of duty always went together.
Alia: "Alright, Mister Officer. Now let's see how my Mafia Godmother answers your silent signal."
They went their separate ways, toward the harsh realities of St. Petersburg.
(Scene 2: Alia's Office, Two Scenes Later)
After two important meetings, Alia was now sitting in her private office located in the tallest building in St. Petersburg. The office was made of glass and steel, as cold and sharp as her personality. Alia was wearing a dark, elegant suit, and her honey-colored eyes were now focused on business. She was looking at some complex financial transactions on a large screen. She was completely managing her empire as the 'Mafia Godmother.'
Victor entered without knocking. He was again wearing his strict, grey suit—a completely professional look. He held a black file in his hand.
Victor: (Voice cold and urgent) "Alia, we have to leave now."
Alia did not take her eyes off the screen.
Alia: (In a calm voice) "Mister Officer, I am in the middle of a hundred million dollars right now. What happened?"
Victor: (Placing the file on the table) "We have to go somewhere far away. Right now."
Alia then looked away from the screen. Surprise was in her eyes.
Alia: "Where?"
Victor: "Italy. Rome, probably."
Curiosity appeared on Alia's face. Italy was a dangerous area for them.
Alia: (Frowning) "Why? What's so urgent?"
Victor opened the file and handed a photo inside it to Alia.
Victor: (In a serious tone) "We have to go there for a special reason—because something is involved with a 'Victoria's Secret' model. This is part of an urgent international operation of mine, and it's impossible without your help."
Hearing 'Victoria's Secret model' from Victor, Alia was initially a little surprised, but then a mischievous smile appeared on her face. She understood that this mission was difficult, but at the same time glamorous and dangerous.
Alia: (Eyes excited, agreeing instantly) "I will go, I will! Mister Officer, the model in Italy and your secret operation—I need to see both. Tell my plane to prepare immediately."
The Mafia Godmother's Arrival in Rome
(Scene: Private Jet and Italian Airport)
Hearing Victor's words, Alia quickly shed her strict officer's look. To go on the glamorous mission to Italy, she needed an outfit that expressed both her power and beauty.
Alia quickly went to her private dressing room and put on a tight-fitting, dark turquoise (or your preferred color), extremely fitted dress—the design of the dress was such that it sparkled with every movement, which was fitting for Italian fashion. She took specially designed heels and a black leather bag on her shoulder.
Without delay, Alia headed towards her private jet. Victor was waiting on the jet's stairs. Victor was still wearing his professional suit.
Victor: (Looking at her, impressed) "My Godmother, are you going to investigate the model, or steal the show yourself?"
Alia: (Laughing, stepping onto the jet) "Both, Mister Officer. Now the duty in Italy is in my hands."
(Scene: Italian Airport)
A little later, Alia's private jet landed at a VIP terminal in Rome. When Alia stepped out of the luxurious jet, everyone present stared at her.
Alia did not look like she was just a businesswoman or a tourist. Every step she took had a regal confidence, which made her more attractive than any international supermodel. The glamour of her turquoise dress and her appearance seemed to dim even the bright sun of Rome.
Other high-ranking people waiting to board or disembark and the airport staff were amazed by Alia's beauty. They thought—
"Who is this woman? Some new Hollywood star?"
"Her beauty surpasses any top model!"
With Alia were Victor and a few other well-built men in black suits, who looked like Alia's personal bodyguards. In fact, they were members of Victor's international team, but Alia's presence made it look like they were guarding a Mafia Queen.
Victor's strict gaze was on the surrounding environment, but his inner focus was on Alia. He understood that Alia's arrival in Italy would make their secret operation even more eye-catching.
Alia smiled gently at Victor, as if saying: "See Mister Officer, my reign in Italy has begun."
The Wings of the Mafia Queen
(Scene: Entrance of a Luxurious Venue in Rome, Night)
Night had deepened outside the luxurious venue in Rome, where Victor's operation was probably centered around a secret event or party involving models. The city's elite and famous personalities were present there.
Suddenly, a black, shiny limousine pulled up to the venue's entrance. As the limousine door opened, all the surrounding cameras and people's attention instantly froze.
First, Victor stepped out of the car. His black suit and cold gaze made it look like he was responsible for the security of an important personality.
But when Alia emerged from the car, all the light in the entire environment seemed to shift towards her.
Alia was wearing a Victoria's Secret Fashion Show-style designed dress—which was probably extremely glamorous, dazzling, and body-hugging. The dress was likely red or gold, creating a dazzling glow in the Roman night light.
But the most amazing thing was on her back! Just like the models in the fashion show, Alia had two huge, feathered wings on her back. These wings glittered in the light's reflection, making Alia look like a goddess or an angel who had just descended from heaven.
Seeing Alia in this form, everyone present there was amazed, as if they were seeing a mythical character in real life.
"Who is she? A model? Or some new superstar?"
"This is the real Victoria's Secret show! The Queen of the show!"
"Her confidence... it looks like she didn't just wear the dress, she came to rule this venue."
The dress was so striking and artistic that everyone felt it wasn't just a dress, it was a manifestation of Alia's power.
Alia looked at Victor with extreme confidence in her wings and glamorous dress.
Alia: (Looking at the impressed crowd) "Mister Officer, now we go inside. This dress of mine, these wings... these are our first action."
Victor enjoyed the drama. Accepting Alia's winged regality, he took her hand, and they both walked toward the glamorous venue.
Center of Fame and Envy
As Alia entered the venue holding Victor's hand in her winged, glamorous dress, the atmosphere suddenly crackled like electricity. The center of attention in the brightly lit ballroom instantly shifted from the other models to Alia.
The guests and media personnel present did not know Alia's name, but her presence made them frantic. Voices began to rise from the crowd all around:
Crowd and Media Personnel:
"Who is she? Who is she?"
"Alia! Alia! Look this way!"
"Madam, is your name Alia? Are you that girl?" (They may have seen a picture of Alia on social media or heard her famous name.)
Alia walked through the crowd and camera flashes with extreme ease. A victorious smile was on her face, as if this kind of attention was very normal for her.
(Scene: Supermodels' Reaction)
Standing in one corner of the venue were the famous supermodels for whom the event was organized. Many of them were internationally renowned and had participated in 'Victoria's Secret' modeling.
Seeing Alia's dramatic entrance and all the attention shifting to her, clear envy was etched on the faces of these models.
First Top Model (Whispering to another model): "Who is she? None of us know her! How dare she wear such a winged dress here! Does she think this is her ramp show, Miss... Alia? We know who you are. You are not a professional model. You must be a... Russian millionaire's companion. The fashion world can't be bought with money alone."
Second Model (Annoyed): "Look at her! Her confidence makes her look like the organizer of this show! Why is she showing so much glamour? She should be thrown out immediately!"
The other models started murmuring among themselves, their faces filled with annoyance and insult. Alia's beauty, power, and mystery felt like a threat to them.
Victor looked at Alia.
Victor: (Whispering close to Alia's ear) "See, my Godmother? Your one night's reign has disturbed the sleep of all the models here. Now find the model we came here for."
Alia laughed and firmly held Victor's hand. Her eyes then searched the crowd for a specific person—the center of Victor's mysterious 'operation.'
The Challenge of Beauty's Height
(Scene: Models' Huddle, Confrontation)
Alia and Victor first walked around the hall for a bit, but Alia knew the real game would start elsewhere. She walked directly to the corner where the main supermodels were whispering among themselves with envy.
Alia stopped right in front of them. Her winged dress, her magical beauty, and most importantly—her height seemed to dim the other models even more. Alia was naturally tall, and her heels probably made her stand an inch taller than everyone else present.
The models suddenly fell silent, seeing Alia so close. There was still wonder and intense envy in their eyes.
Alia looked at them and smiled briefly—a cold, confident smile.
Alia: (In a calm, but full voice, with a slight Italian accent) "I think I've come to the wrong place. Are you all getting ready for a group photo? Or... are you all discussing my dress together?"
An awkwardness began among the models at Alia's direct question. One of them, who looked quite confident, started to answer with some annoyance.
First Model: (Staring fiercely) "No, we weren't discussing anything. Who are you?"
Alia then nodded gently toward Victor, as if saying, 'Mister Officer, look, your duty has begun.'
Alia: (Smiling slightly, as if the question was ridiculous) "Who am I? I am Alia. And if you don't know, then assume... I am the person you are currently whispering about among yourselves."
The Expression of Envy
The models' faces showed a mixed reaction—arrogance and extreme envy—at Alia's direct question and defiant smile. They glanced at each other. The boldest or most envious one stepped forward.
Top Model (In a sharp voice): "We were certainly discussing your dress. We were wondering why anyone would dare to wear such large wings here! Do you think this is your ramp show, Miss... Alia? We know who you are. You are not a professional model. You must be a... Russian millionaire's companion. The fashion world cannot be bought with money alone."
This comment contained clear insult and intense envy. The other models nodded in agreement with her words.
Alia gave no importance to the insult hidden in the model's words. She smiled calmly and, using her height advantage, bent her head slightly to look at the model.
Alia: (In a calm, yet daunting voice) "I know I am not a professional model. I am the Mafia Godmother—who makes her own rules."
Alia paused for a moment, looking directly into the model's eyes.
Alia: "And if who I am accompanying is so important to you... then know that my companion is here right now, Mister Officer."
Alia gently pressed Victor's hand. Victor watched the entire drama with a cold face.
Alia: "And my dress? Do you see the wings on my dress? They remind you—you are standing on the ground, and I am ready to touch the sky. Now, if your discussion is over, I shall begin my real duty."
Their arrogance shattered at Alia's response. They looked at each other, but dared not say another word. After silencing them, Alia took Victor's hand and walked through the crowd—her target now the model for whom they had come to Italy.
The Godmother's Final Warning
Even though Alia's last words stunned the models, there was still a slight trace of arrogance in the eyes of the top model. Alia turned back towards her, and there was no smile or playfulness in her eyes anymore. Now, her eyes held severity and a chilling threat.
Alia took one step closer to that model. Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, which sounded more terrifying than all the other noise.
Alia: (In a sharp, cold voice, speaking Italian) "If you, or anyone among you... utters one more word about my or my companion's identity, or discusses my dress or height tonight, then remember—the next day your address will be beneath the grave. I'm telling you this."
Alia spoke the words in such a way that it felt like an undeniable truth, not just an act. Her eyes had become as cold as ice.
The model's face turned white. Looking into Alia's eyes, she realized that this woman wasn't just showing arrogance because of money—this woman was truly dangerous. The other models standing around her also trembled with fear.
Alia didn't stay for another moment. She smiled a victorious smile and took Victor's hand.
Alia: (Returning to a normal tone, looking at Victor) "Let's go, Mister Officer. We shouldn't waste any more time with them. Let's find our real model."
Alia and Victor then disappeared into the crowd. The models stared at the path they took, a new, chilling fear, not just intense envy, growing in their hearts. They realized they had mistakenly picked a fight with a 'Mafia Godmother.'
The Fashion Show Begins
Right after Alia's chilling threat stunned the models, the lights in the main hall of the venue dimmed. The tension of waiting began to subside. Holding Victor's hand, Alia took her reserved seat in the front row of the hall, meant for VIP guests. Due to Alia's wings and glamorous dress, no one else dared to look directly at them.
Loud, exciting music started playing over the hall's loudspeakers. Intense lights and flashes fell onto the stage (the ramp).
Event Announcer: (In a loud voice in Italian and English) "Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight in Rome, we are about to witness a fashion show that will redefine beauty, power, and mystery! The show begins!"
The music became louder. When the first model walked out, Alia watched intently. But her eyes were not just on the clothes, they were on the models' facial expressions and their walking style. She was looking for clues for Victor's operation.
Victor leaned closer to Alia's ear.
Victor: (Whispering) "Alia, according to my file, the model will likely appear in the third or fourth segment. Watch her carefully. There might be some abnormality in her movement."
Alia nodded in agreement.
Alia: (In a low voice) "I see, Mister Officer. In this kingdom of models, I am the best observer now. She won't escape my sight."
Models walked out one after another, but Alia was waiting for the one who held a secret mystery in this display of beauty. Alia's eyes, strict focus, and her Godmother's intuition were ready to identify that model.
The Unexpected Call
As the first part of the fashion show ended and the models quickly moved off the ramp, the light suddenly focused on Alia's seat. Alia looked up in surprise. Victor also became alert.
The voice of the main event organizer and an influential personality in the fashion world was heard over the hall's loudspeakers.
Organizer (Into the microphone, excited): "Audience! Tonight we are witnessing a beauty and courage that has redefined fashion! A legend is seated among us—whose presence has elevated our show to a new height!"
The organizer pointed directly at Alia.
Organizer: "Miss Alia, please! You are called to the stage! Please come to the ramp and accept the title of 'Queen of the Show' tonight!"
Alia looked at Victor. Victor's eyes were still calm, but there was a question mark in the corner of his eyes. Was this call just to honor her, or was there a secret message hidden in this crowd?
Alia: (Smiling at Victor, with mischief in her eyes) "See, Mister Officer? My wings can win titles, not just scare models. My duty begins."
Alia stood up. Her movement in the winged dress created an extraordinary sight as she walked. She headed toward the ramp. That stage, which was occupied by models just moments ago, became even more mysterious with the footsteps of the Mafia Godmother.The Queen of Fashion on Stage
Responding to the organizer's call, when Alia stepped onto the stage, all the lights in the hall focused on her. Alia's glamorous, turquoise or golden Victoria's Secret model-style winged dress glittered brightly in the intense light.
Alia was not a professional model, but her confidence was several times greater than any supermodel. She knew how to rule this stage.
First, she looked at the audience and brought out that cold, powerful smile in her eyes that had frightened the envious models moments ago.
Alia began her walk. Her every step was measured, regal, and slow.
The Sparkle of the Dress Color: When the turquoise or golden color of Alia's dress (according to your preference) hit the stage spotlight, it created a magical play of colors on the hall's walls by reflecting from different angles. It looked as if a water fairy or a golden goddess had descended from heaven.
The Movement of the Wings: Alia used her body in such a way that her huge wings on her back also gently moved with her walking rhythm. These wings established her as the true 'Queen of the Show,' which would not have been possible for any other model.
When she reached the end of the ramp, Alia struck a final pose: she gently held the wing with one hand and placed the other on her waist. Her eyes were focused directly on the camera and the audience, a look of triumph on her face—as if she wasn't just showcasing fashion, but establishing her Mafia Godmother's authority over the fashion world of Italy.
The audience reaction was frantic: screams, applause, and a storm of camera flashes.
Alia paused on stage for a moment. Taking advantage of this opportunity, her eyes quickly searched the crowd for the model who was the center of Victor's operation. From this high spot on the stage, everything around her was clearly visible.
She then accepted the honorary trophy and began to descend the ramp to return to Victor.
The Godmother in the Makeup Room
The fashion show was over. Alia, due to her wings and glamorous dress, was the center of everyone's attraction. The continuous applause and shouts from the audience were still ringing in her ears.
Alia went straight to the main makeup room of the event. It was a huge, luxurious room with large mirrors and bright lights. Alia sat in a comfortable chair, feigning tiredness.
Five makeup artists and stylist staff immediately crowded around her. Their job was to remove Alia's wings, adjust her dress, and take off the heavy stage makeup. There was respect and a little fear in the eyes of the staff—as they had probably learned about the deadly threat Alia had given on stage.
As the staff carefully removed Alia's wings and helped her open the intricate parts of her dress, Alia sat with her eyes closed. But her ears were alert.
Alia: (In a calm, yet authoritative voice) "You all did very good work. This dress was difficult to handle."
A staff member quickly replied: "Thank you, Madam. This dress was made for a personality like yours."
Alia gave the staff a chance to feel comfortable talking among themselves.
Alia: (In her mind) This moment... this is the best opportunity for Victor's operation. The staff knows everything.
She opened her eyes and looked at the most talkative stylist, who was busy unlacing Alia's dress.
Alia: (Softly, as if telling a personal story) "The show was great, but I have to admit... some models were very nervous. Especially that girl, who walked in the third segment. What was her name again? Her dress lace kept coming undone while she was walking."
Alia described a fictional model. The staff now had a chance to prove their importance.
Stylist: (Immediately) "Oh, yes, Madam! You are right! You must be talking about Karina! She was very nervous today. I also heard she has some personal problems... I heard she got involved with some wrong people."
Alia's eyes instantly lit up. She realized she had found the correct model's name. 'Wrong people' probably meant the 'Mafia connection' or the main clue to Victor's operation.
Alia: (Becoming more interested) "Karina? Sad. Is she here now? I need to meet her and talk to her a little. Let's see if I can help her."
Alia spoke as if she truly was a sympathetic Godmother who wanted to help. The stylist then quickly prepared to inform Karina of Alia's whereabouts. Alia's mission was now ready to move from the makeup room to the next stageThe Godmother's Invitation
Alia's diplomacy and quick action were key here. She immediately sent for 'Karina,' whose personal problems could be the clue to Victor's international operation.
(Scene: Makeup Room, Karina's Entry)
As the stylist started talking about Karina, Alia interrupted him.
Alia: (In a calm, but commanding tone) "Alright, that's enough for now. You all leave. And yes... could someone please go and call Miss Karina here? Tell her Alia wants to speak to her privately. It's very important."
Alia's order was extremely effective. The staff, who were afraid of Alia and at the same time wanted to gain her favor, immediately left the makeup room.
Soon after, the door opened. Karina, the model whose name came up in the third segment and who was rumored to be involved with 'wrong people,' entered the makeup room.
Karina was still wearing a part of her ramp outfit. She was extremely beautiful, but her eyes clearly held fear, exhaustion, and deep worry. She had seen the magnificence of Alia's wings in the makeup room, and heard her threats.
Karina was afraid that Alia might have called her to punish her for some mistake or for being envious of Alia.
Karina: (Voice soft and trembling) "Miss Alia? You... you called me? Did I do something wrong?"
Alia then stood up from her chair. She walked towards Karina with a smile, that smile which simultaneously expressed warmth and extreme danger.
Alia: (Affectionate, but authoritative tone) "Oh no, dear Karina. Don't be afraid. I didn't call you to punish you. Rather, I called you to help you."
Alia gently placed her hand on Karina's.
Alia: "I heard you are in some trouble? Got involved with the wrong people? I am that friend who doesn't want to see a beautiful girl like you suffer after coming to Rome. Sit down, Karina. Tell me... what exactly is your problem?"
Alia used the most effective tactic of her Mafia Godmother persona: disguised empathy. She was ready to gain Karina's trust to extract the secret information needed for Victor's operation.
Revelation of Truth and Ruthless End
A very rapid and dramatic turn! The story has now arrived at the time of conflict and action.
(Scene: Makeup Room, Confession)
Under Alia's sympathetic demeanor, Karina could no longer hold herself together. The gentle yet firm presence of the Mafia Godmother seemed to compel her to believe that Alia was her last hope.
Karina burst into tears and began to tell all her problems one by one.
Karina: (Crying out) "Yes, I am in trouble! My former manager forced me to get involved with an international smuggling ring. They are threatening to destroy my modeling career, and they are using me to smuggle valuable confidential information out of Italy! My appearance at this fashion show was a signal to them—I am being threatened!"
Karina further revealed that the smugglers would begin their major operation in two days and that the main leader of the ring was hiding in a luxurious villa in Rome. Karina told Alia all the secret information she had—the time, location, and names of the suspects.
Alia listened to everything calmly. There was no emotion in her eyes, only sharp focus. When Karina finished speaking, Alia stood up.
Alia: (Calm, but firm voice) "Don't worry, Karina. You helped me. Now I will help you."
Alia gently handed Karina a secret phone number and told her to quickly flee Rome.
(Scene: Preparation for Action)
Leaving the makeup room, Alia went directly to Victor. She handed over all the information to Victor. There was no trace of a game in Victor's blue eyes now, only professional severity.
Victor: (In a harsh voice) "What you did, Alia, has pushed us months ahead. This is an international operation. No more games now."
Alia: (A cold smile on her lips) "Alright, Mister Officer. Now it's time to see the real work of the Mafia Godmother."
For the next two days, Alia and Victor finalized their plan. Alia's network and Victor's professional tactics combined.
(Scene: Two Days Later, Ruthless End)
Two days later, darkness descended upon the luxurious villa on the outskirts of Rome, where the smuggling ring members were hiding.
Alia and Victor were leading a team of trained agents. Alia was wearing a black, specialized tactical suit—as dangerous as her beauty. Victor's face was as hard as stone.
The operation began. No warning was given.
Alia: (In a severe command) "Go inside! Don't leave anyone alive. There is no place for traitors in my empire."
Alia's leadership was precise and ruthless. She personally neutralized some of the key targets. Even Victor's agents were surprised by her skill. Alia was not just a beautiful companion here; she was a cold, trained fighter and ruler.
In a short time, everyone inside the villa was killed. Alia ensured that none of those who had threatened Karina and none of those involved in the international information smuggling were left alive.
When Alia walked out of the main hall of the villa, there was no remorse on her face. Only that cold smile on her lips—which reminded Victor: Love is Duty, but the Mafia Godmother shows no mercy in fulfilling her duty.
Alia: (Looking at Victor) "Duty complete, Mister Officer. Can we return to St. Petersburg now? I feel like I need the warmth of my Snow Palace."Destination: Home
The action and duty were over; now it was time for them to return to their private sanctuary.
(Scene: Departure from Rome and the way to the Snow Palace)
After Alia's merciless operation ended, Victor's team quickly cleared the villa in Rome. No traces or evidence remained. Alia and Victor, having succeeded in their mission, quickly left the location.
Soon after, they reached Alia's private jet. Alia had already changed out of her tactical suit and returned to her luxurious, but comfortable, clothes.
As they boarded the jet, Victor looked at Alia. There was still a residue of the operation in Alia's eyes, but that naughty smile had returned to her lips.
Victor: (Smiling slightly) "I am impressed by the duty fulfillment of your Mafia Godmother, Alia. You finished everything so quickly and flawlessly! Is it time now for us to return to that cold palace in St. Petersburg?"
Alia: "Yes, Mister Officer. No more wings or secret operations now. My heart only desires the warmth of the ice palace."
They boarded the jet plane. The plane quickly left the night sky of Rome and began flying toward St. Petersburg.
(Scene: Snow Palace, Return)
The next morning, Alia and Victor arrived at their familiar, beloved ice palace. The contrast between the cold outside air and the warmth inside seemed to remind them of the difference between their hard duty and deep love.
They headed straight for the bedroom where their love game had begun.
Victor stood at the door and looked at Alia. Alia had already changed out of her heavy clothes and put on a soft bathrobe.
Victor: "I have finished my duty, Alia. Now your reign begins."
Alia: (With her famous naughty smile) "My reign, Victor. And my first duty is—to remind my Mister Officer why he leaves all duties and returns to me."
Alia stepped forward and embraced Victor. The action of Rome, the residual romance, and the warmth of the St. Petersburg winter—everything merged in their embrace. They had returned to their own sanctuary, where love is the only duty.
The Soft Captivity
Victor's facial hardness completely melted away in the warmth of Alia's embrace. He held Alia even tighter, as if trying to shield her from all the dangers of the world.
But that mischief was still playing in Victor's mind—the game of 'Mister Officer' and 'Mafia Lord.'
Victor whispered into Alia's ear: "My princess, you just finished an international operation. This power and mischief of yours... I have to punish you a little."
Alia looked at Victor in surprise.
Alia: (Smiling softly) "Punishment? For what, Mister Officer?"
Victor said nothing and gently took something out of his pocket. It wasn't the cold steel handcuff used for his duty. Instead, it was a special kind of, soft leather (or silk) beautiful handcuff, the inside of which was probably lined with soft velvet. Its design was luxurious, meant as a prop for a game or a symbol of bondage.
Victor looked at Alia and smiled—a smile mixed with the possessiveness of a Mafia Lord and the mischief of a lover.
Victor: (In a deep voice) "For your audacity. And for taking me outside of my duty. Tonight, you will be my captive. But this captivity will be the most beautiful and soft in the world."
Alia did not hesitate for a moment. There was no fear in her eyes, only the excitement of a new game.
Alia: (With playful eyes) "Alright, Mister Officer. I gladly accept your captivity. If my Mafia Lord takes me captive, I have no complaints."
Victor very carefully and gently put Alia's two hands together and put on the soft handcuff. The handcuff was a strange contrast against Alia's white, soft skin.
Victor: (Close to her ear) "Now you are under my control. And my first duty is—to make you forget the tiredness of this journey."
Alia laughed. The game of duty and mischief began again in the ice palace of St. Petersburg. MOSCOW CITYSCAPE, HIGH-RISE ROOFTOP – NIGHT
The rooftop of a Moscow skyscraper. A fierce wind is blowing, and the city lights twinkle below.
Alia stands there, clad in an expensive dress of red with gold embroidery inside, which highlights her intensity and passion.
Facing her is Viktor, wearing a grey inner jacket/shirt over a black shirt, and a long white coat on the outside. This white coat seems to represent his outward innocence, which in Alia's eyes is the ultimate hypocrisy.
Guns are now in their hands. Both are aiming at each other with cold intent.
Alia's eyes narrow, her entire face contorted with intense rage. She can no longer restrain herself.
ALIA
(In a harsh, angry voice)
You are a f***ing hypocritical devil!
Viktor is not the slightest bit disturbed by this accusation, as if it is an old habit for him. A cold, bitter smile spreads across his face.
VICTOR
(Calm, but with a sharp tone)
How many times have you told me that, Alia? You don't know that you are the same. My outer white coat makes me seem like a hypocrite to you, but the gun in your hand and that red dress of yours—they also signal your inner power and destruction. You are also a part of the same darkness.
ALIA
(Gritting her teeth in a bitter laugh)
I admit it, but I don't hide this darkness under the guise of love! You use my passion to protect your empire!
Viktor falls silent. His eyes are fixed on Alia's. He then steadies the barrel of his own gun even more, pointing it at Alia.
VICTOR
(Gesturing towards the gun, in an extremely calm voice)
What will you do now? Shoot and end my hypocrisy? Or accept that this hypocrisy is necessary for both of us to survive? You can't shoot, because you know—I am half of you.
Alia begins to tremble, but her aim is steady. At this moment, their relationship is trapped in a dangerous game.
After a long, silent moment, Viktor lets out a deep sigh and slowly lowers his gun.
VICTOR
(Whispering softly)
Come back to me, Alia. On this roof, there is no more power or hypocrisy—there is only you and me.
Alia does not throw her gun away, but the anger slowly fades from her eyes, replaced by a deep, complex love. She steps towards Viktor and hugs him tightly, still holding the gun.
Viktor also embraces her strongly. The gun is still caught between their bodies. This was the symbol of their relationship—a strange coexistence of love and destruction.
SCENE CUT
Alia does not throw her gun away, but the anger slowly fades from her eyes, replaced by a deep, complex love. She steps towards Viktor and hugs him tightly, still holding the gun. Viktor also embraces her strongly. The gun is still caught between their bodies.
The intensity of the embrace increases. Viktor runs his hand over Alia's back, touching the gold embroidery on her red dress. Their inner passion then overwhelms all the anger and power games.
Viktor gently lifts Alia's face. As their eyes meet, their deepest longing for love is revealed in the Moscow light.
VICTOR
(Emotional, suppressed voice)
Here, now, no more games, Alia. Just you and me.
Viktor then kisses Alia's lips extremely deeply and intensely. This kiss was the release of all the pent-up tension and emotion within them.
As the kiss deepens, Viktor reaches for Alia's red dress and quickly, but carefully, unzips or unfastens the garment.
Viktor lifts Alia into his arms. Alia wraps her legs tightly around Viktor's waist. Her gun drops onto the rooftop floor, a symbol of their power, but trivial at this moment.
Viktor, carrying Alia, quickly walks towards a relatively sheltered corner of the roof. Their intimacy was extreme and wild—as if they wanted to merge into each other's existence.
VICTOR
(Whispering, with intense emotion)
You are mine, Alia. Forever.
In the intense cold of the Moscow night, a new dimension of their relationship is revealed through this ultimate intimacy, full of power and a game of emotions.Moscow Cityscape, High-Rise Rooftop – Night (Continuation in Penthouse)
The scene shifts abruptly from the tense rooftop to the luxurious confines of Viktor's penthouse bedroom, several floors below. The glass walls showcase the glittering, sprawling tapestry of Moscow at night.
Viktor carries Alia swiftly from the elevator into the immense, minimalist bedroom, dominated by a large king-size bed. Their discarded clothing—Viktor's white coat and Aliyah's red and gold dress—are scattered near the entrance, symbolizing the dropping of their public personas and power games. The pistols are forgotten on the roof.
Viktor gently lowers Alia onto the silk sheets. Their bodies are pressed together, fueled by an intensity that is both destructive and deeply loving.
VICTOR
(Breathing heavily, his voice raw with emotion)
No more games here, Alia. No more pretense. Just you and me.
He captures her lips again in a kiss, deep and consuming, a physical release of the tension that has defined their relationship. As the kiss breaks, their hands work quickly, shedding the last remnants of fabric.
Alia cups his face, her eyes finally clear of rage, filled instead with profound desire.
Alia
(Whispering, a hitch in her breath)
Your half... always yours.
Viktor's hands move over her body, the touch possessive yet tender. His composure has completely melted away, revealing a primal need.
VICTOR
(A sharp, passionate whisper)
No more power, Aliae. No more playing. Just this fire... just this truth. Sex me, Alia Let me forget who we are and what this city demands of us. Make me feel like you are only mine.
Alia clings to him, burying her face into his neck, the response unspoken but absolute.
Alia
(A low, fervent moan)
Forever... yours.
Their coupling is fierce and desperate, a storm of emotion and physical need that obliterates the cold, powerful world outside the windows. The love, the toxicity, and the shared darkness finally culminate in a single, intense moment of surrender and possession. Moscow's silent lights bear witness to their ultimate, chaotic intimacy.SCENE: EXT. SIBERIAN MOUNTAINS, ICY PATH – AFTERNOON
The cold is intense, and the sunlight is fading in the vast snow-covered kingdom of Siberia. All around is the silence of white snow. Alia and Victor, both are walking along a chilling mountain path. The intense relationship between them seemed hidden beneath their heavy winter clothes.
VICTOR (In a calm yet deep voice): Enjoy this silence, Alia. Even power rests peacefully here.
Alia gives no reply. She walks, looking at the snow, but her eyes are fixed somewhere far away—in the deep past. Suddenly, the white snow and the silence around her begin to feel terrifying. Fragments of those psychopathic childhood memories rush into her mind—memories filled with coldness, intense power, and violence.
Alia's breathing quickens.
PANIC ATTACK BEGINS:
Alia's hands start trembling. The illusions of her past and present seem to whisper in her ear through the icy wind. She suddenly halts.
VICTOR: What is it, Queen?
Alia, in the blink of an eye, pulls out a small, black pistol from her bag, which she always keeps with her. With a trembling hand, she aims the gun straight at Victor. Her eyes are filled with fear and confusion.
VICTOR (Surprised yet calm): Alia!
Though there is astonishment in Victor's eyes, there is no fear. He looks at Alia's eyes for a moment—he understands that this is not her, but a reaction to some old wound inside her.
VICTOR (In a very low, firm voice): Be calm, Alia. Remember where you are now. This is not that time. Put the gun down.
Two tears stream down Alia's eyes. It is difficult for her to remove her finger from the trigger. Her body is shaking.
Victor slowly steps forward.
VICTOR: Look at me. I am here.
Victor stands very close to Alia. Alia is still aiming the gun.Alia:You are a disgusting hypocrite. Victor gently takes the pistol from Alia's shaking hand. He brushes aside the strands of her dishevelled hair.
The next moment, Alia loses all her strength and collapses into Victor's chest. She sobs, her cry breaking the silence of the snow and audible only to Victor.
ALIA (Crying): I... I was afraid... I remembered that... that darkness...
Victor wraps his arms tightly around Alia over her winter clothes. He just lets Alia hear his heartbeat. After some time, when Alia's crying stops, Victor gently lifts her head. He places a soft kiss on Alia's forehead.
VICTOR (Whispering): Your darkness is mine too. You are not alone.
(The Gift and The Vow)
Victor pulls a small, expensive black-colored velvet box from his inner coat pocket, bearing the gold logo of Harry Winston. In the midst of the snow, Alia is stunned and surprised by this unexpected sight.
Victor opens the box, and the huge, glittering Harry Winston diamond ring inside sparkles in the icy light.
Victor takes Alia's right hand in his.
VICTOR: This is not just a stone, Queen. This is the bond that will keep you permanently in my darkness. Even if you forget, this will remind you of whose you are.
Victor very carefully slips the ring onto Alia's trembling finger. The cool touch of the diamond on Alia's warm skin makes her shiver.
Without a moment of hesitation, Alia embraces Victor tightly with intense love.
Clutching Alia to his chest, Victor very gently, yet firmly, lifts Alia straight into his arms. Alia holds tightly onto her husband's neck.
Victor gently lifts Alia's face. With intense desire and love, he kisses Alia deeply on the lips (Lips Kiss). That kiss was a final declaration, acknowledging all the tension, panic, and the game of power in their relationship.
(The Counter-Signature)
When the kiss ends on Victor's lips, Alia smiles. This smile is her silent promise in return for her husband's gift and love.
Alia pulls away slightly and takes out an even smaller, elegant black-colored box from her inner coat pocket. Now it is Victor's turn to be surprised.
Alia, smiling, hands the box towards Victor.
Victor opens the box, and a masculine, extremely valuable Graff Locket inside sparkles. The locket's design is rigid, geometric, and set with rare black or grey diamonds—perfectly matching Victor's dark and powerful personality.
VICTOR (Looking into Alia's eyes, with a faint smile): A return gift?
ALIA (Maintaining that smile): Not a return gift, My Lord. A Signature. The right to be closest to your body belongs not just to me, but to my love as well.
Alia takes the locket out of the box and gently pulls aside the collar of Victor's heavy coat, placing the locket around his neck. The cold metallic touch of the locket on Victor's warm skin generates a jolt.
After the locket is secured, both of them look at each other and smile. That smile belongs to the two billionaire rulers in the Siberian snow—who share not only wealth and empire but also power, vulnerability, and a deep, complex love. This locket is the symbol of their mutual relationship.
Victor gently touches the locket, then lifts Alia into his arms once more, and their walk along the icy path continues.ALIA AND VICTOR'S LUXURY HOME (RUSSIA) – MORNING/AFTERNOON
Some days after the incident in the Siberian snow. The location is not the Korean palace, but a luxurious, snow-covered house in Russia. Outside, intense cold ice and silence prevail.
Alia is alone on the floor of the massive, regal living room. The room is decorated to resemble a small palace itself. Alia wears her long, beautiful skirt, which flows gracefully across the floor. In a burst of joy, Alia suddenly runs through the middle of the hall. Her long hair flies freely in the air.
The icy cold air from outside flows in through the large windows, causing the heavy, white curtains to billow and dance. It felt as if Alia had entered a fairy tale, where the white clouds and ice danced just for her.
Alia begins to smile amidst the free air and the dancing white curtains. This smile was her inner release, a moment of freedom from the complex relationship with Victor and the psychopathic pressure from Anasia.
Alia stops running and slowly enters an adjacent room.
This is Victor's private library or resting chamber.
The scene inside is even quieter and more fairy-tale-like:
Victor is lying on a large, comfortable sofa. A Russian language book rests open on his chest. Victor is in a deep sleep.
His hair is unusually white, and its purity creates a stark contrast against the dark color of the sofa. His eyes are closed, and Alia notices his long white eyelashes resting on his cheeks. His eyebrows are also white. His entire demeanor radiates a cold, angelic beauty. He looked like a deity from the land of ice, deep in slumber.
The white curtains around them gently billow in the icy wind, adding a mysterious glow to the scene of Victor's silence and peace.
Alia stops her approach and kneels beside Victor. She gently touches his white hair with her finger. In this moment, there is no talk of power, psychopathy, or revenge. There is only the pure love and peace hidden deep within their complex relationship.
ALIA (Whispering, with a soft smile): My Lord...
She gazes at her sleeping husband, whose silent beauty made her forget all the darkness, even if just for a moment.
Victor Awakens and the Embrace
Just at that moment, Victor's blue eyes slowly open. His white eyelashes rise, and his blue gaze falls directly onto Alia.
Victor is awake!
Alia is completely caught off guard. Caught watching her sleeping husband and exposing her love, she feels intense shame. Her skirt-clad body quickly shifts.
ALIA (Hastily): Oh! I'm sorry, I thought... I should go.
Alia rushes to get up and leave, but Victor is faster.
Victor removes the book from his chest with one hand and firmly grips Alia's wrist with the other. His grasp is firm, asserting his possessiveness.
VICTOR (In a deep, sleep-laden voice): Where are you going, Queen?
Victor pulls Alia's wrist. The pull makes Alia kneel by the sofa again. Her flowing skirt and hair spread out around her.
Victor lifts himself slightly and pulls Alia closer. He places a hand over her skirt and touches Alia's cheek to his face.
VICTOR (Whispering): You are running away as if you did something wrong. Is loving your Lord a mistake? I was enjoying your silent devotion. You have nothing to fear, Alia. You are mine.
Alia stops resisting. She surrenders to her husband's warmth. Her shame slowly transforms into deep love.
Deep Kiss
Victor brings his mouth closer to Alia's. Amidst the dance of the white curtains in the icy wind, Victor kisses Alia deeply on the lips (Lips Kiss).
This kiss is the ultimate expression of the complexity, power, and dependence in their relationship. In this moment, the Siberian ice, the Korean palace, or Anasia's threat—none of it exists between them. There is only the exclusive personal emotion between the two of them.
When the kiss ends, Victor looks at Alia with his blue eyes. His gaze returns to that cold possessiveness, but with a deep, wakeful satisfaction. Alia smiles; there is no fear in her eyes now, only a kind of reliance and love for her husband.
Victor keeps Alia seated beside him on the sofa.
Then, only their two hands are visible from behind. Victor's hand, strong and firm, holds Alia's arm over her shoulder, and Alia's hand rests softly on Victor's.
Victor's hand is firm and iron-hard—proving that this Queen belongs to him; no one can take her. Alia's hand is soft in that powerful grip, but within that softness lies deep trust.
The cold air from the ice outside and the white curtains inside continue to billow gently, witnessing their profound, private bond.Side Story: Love in the Russian Rain
The night was nearly midnight. Intense, icy Russian rain was pouring down from the Moscow sky. A fierce wind swept across the slick, wet roof of a towering skyscraper.
Alia stood at the edge of the roof. She wore a dark, expensive, and likely water-resistant outfit—a perfect blend of fashion and functionality. The rain lashed at her long, honey-golden hair, tossing it wildly, but her gaze was sharp and focused. Despite the tempestuous wind, her body possessed the resilience of steel; she was challenging the fury of nature itself.
Alia pulled her right hand from an inner pocket. In her palm, two small, shining bullet casings glistened, wet with raindrops. Perhaps they were tokens from a successful mission or a signal for impending action. She looked at them for a moment, her honey-colored eyes devoid of emotion—only cold resolve.
Suddenly, the sharp sound of sirens echoed from the street below. Alia grabbed a handful of her hair, then quickly leaned forward. The ruthless determination of the Mafia God-mother (or CIA agent) was etched across her face.
In the next moment, Alia didn't hesitate. Clenching the two casings in her hand, she leapt from the tall rooftop into the darkness and the Russian rain.
The sound of her fall was drowned out by the noise of the rain. Her jump was not the madness of a billionaire, but the reflection of a highly trained CIA agent's grim resolve. Alia descended into her next mission, where death and life hung by a thread.
The rain's intensity reached its peak. After diving into the darkness from the roof, Alia descended with precise velocity through the air. Her fall was calculated, not reckless. Below, a massive black limousine sped through the middle of the street, sirens blaring. Alia aimed her body to land directly on top of the vehicle.
The next moment brought a loud, crunching impact. Alia landed on the limousine's hard roof. The metal dented slightly, but Alia's skill kept her safe. The two bullet casings were still gripped tightly in her hand.
Before the men inside the car could register what had happened, Alia moved. She crouched on the limousine's roof and advanced with lightning speed. Just as a bodyguard tried to leap out from the driver's side, Alia didn't throw the casings—instead, she drew her concealed tactical knife from her other hand.
One by one, the action commenced:
First Strike: The bodyguard who attempted to open the door was instantly neutralized by Alia.
Second Strike: She smashed the driver's window, dragged the driver out into the pouring rain, slammed him down, and quickly incapacitated him.
Third Attack: Two more armed men tried to emerge from the back window. Alia swiftly dropped from the limousine roof onto the street. Giving them no chance, she used precise martial arts techniques to subdue both of them.
The entire area was engulfed in the roar of the rain and the blare of sirens. But Alia's speed, skill, and ruthlessness were silent. Her expensive attire was soaked with rain and clung to her body, her hair spread around her face. Alia took a breath. No one was left standing nearby. The two bullet casings still shone brightly as a symbol of her resolve. She opened the limousine door, glanced inside, and finished what needed to be done for her mission to succeed.
As Alia finished her work inside the limousine and turned around, the rain grew even heavier. Her expensive clothes were now stained with crimson blood—the blood of her enemies. She was trying to steady her breathing when her gaze fixed on the far end of the street.
Through the rain and the darkness, she saw Viktor advancing with slow, deliberate steps.
Viktor wasn't wearing his heavy police coat; he wore only a white shirt—soaked through by the Russian rain and plastered to his body. And over that wet white shirt were dark crimson splatters of blood! It was impossible to tell if the blood was his own or someone else's, but it was clear he had been in a fierce fight.
As Viktor approached Alia, his white hair was slicked back against his forehead. But his blue eyes fiercely glared through the gloom of the rain. A familiar, cold smile appeared at the corner of his lips—an expression that simultaneously conveyed the ruthlessness of a Mafia Lord and the secret joy of a lover.
Viktor stopped directly in front of Alia. Both of their bodies were wet and blood-soaked.
Alia: (Voice level, but eyes full of questions) "Mr. Lord? The blood on your shirt… Whose is it?"
Viktor reached out a hand towards Alia. His wet hand touched Alia's wet, bloody cheek. He whispered, "I was clearing the path for your third job… to become the Queen of my Mafia empire. You jumped from the roof; I opened the way from the front."
Viktor's smile widened. The red blood on Alia's face was still there, glowing in his eyes like the mysterious light of the Aurora. Two masterminds, one CIA agent and one Mafia Lord, stood before each other in the midst of a blood-soaked Russian night—their love no longer merely a secret beneath the ice, but laid bare in blood and rain. Viktor's confession and his wet, bloody hand touching Alia's cheek made the situation instantly dramatic.
A flicker of intense emotion crossed Alia's eyes, but her CIA-trained composure immediately returned. In the blink of an eye, she pulled a small, black pistol from her pocket. The weapon, concealed in her palm, gleamed in the rain.
Alia took one step closer to Viktor, right up against his warmth. She leaned her head against his shoulder, raising her right hand, and pressed the cold muzzle of the gun directly against the juncture of Viktor's neck and shoulder.
Viktor continued to smile. There was no fear in his blue eyes at this unexpected attack, only a savage joy—as if he had anticipated this move from Alia.
Alia brought her lips close to Viktor's ear. Her voice was a whisper, yet sharper than the sound of the Russian rain. Her silent whisper was coupled with a sharp, brief Russian profanity:
Alia: (Whispering, cold, in Russian accent) "Suka." ed. She gently moved the muzzle away, but her breath was still clear against Viktor's ear. Alia's cold, brief insult was a raw display of the danger, power, and intense reliance in their relationship. Alia rested her head on Viktor's bloody white shirt.
Alia: (In a much softer tone) "It makes me angry to see you like this, Lord. Covered in blood."
Viktor wrapped his arms around Alia's back. The Russian rain was washing over their two bloody bodies. Their secret game had just begun.Love, Power, and the Final Frame
Alia's warmth, her rage, and her chilling acknowledgment—all of it finally calmed the warring Mafia Lord and lover within Viktor. When Alia rested her head on Viktor's bloodied shirt, Viktor gently wrapped his arms around her back.
Scene Cut. In an instant, the raw, violent intensity of the blood-soaked car and the pouring rain gave way to something new.
Viktor scooped Alia up in his arms. Just as he had walked towards the limousine on the snowy night in the first scene—but this time, the context was entirely different: blood, rain, and exposed secrets. Alia's wet, blood-stained hands gripped tightly onto Viktor's soaked shirt.
They began to move slowly away from the wrecked scene. The Russian rain was washing over their two bloodied bodies, as if trying to erase the marks of their past and their crimes.
Alia leaned her head on Viktor's shoulder and whispered, "Why did you need to spill your blood, Viktor? I could have handled it alone."
Viktor held Alia closer within his arms. His lips brushed against the wet strands of her hair.
Viktor: (His voice filled with deep affection) "Because you may be CIA, Alia. You may be a billionaire. But I am your protector. And when I love someone, I don't leave the job half-finished. They were coming for you. I just ensured no one could stand in your way."
Alia lifted her head, her honey-colored eyes still burning with the mysterious fire of the Aurora.
Alia: "And what will be the consequence? Tomorrow morning, when I see you in your Russian Police uniform, will you be a hero in my eyes, or a murderous Mafia Lord?"
The cold, savage smile returned to Viktor's rain-soaked lips.
Viktor: "Both. I am your hero—the one who killed to protect his love. And I am your Mafia Lord—the one who wields both the law and the weapon. You are the only rule that matters to me, Alia."
The rain intensified. They walked slowly, embraced, through the dark, silent street. The Moscow rain that night seemed to know that the game between these two billionaires, this CIA agent, and this Mafia Lord had only just begun.
Viktor's final declaration made Alia laugh. Her laugh was sharper than the sound of the Russian rain—the laugh of a lover who had completely surrendered to her Mafia Lord's wild love and power. It was a laugh of triumph, for in this game, she was equal to, if not stronger than, Viktor.
Alia: (Laughed) "You are absolutely right, Mr. Hero-Mafia Lord! My rules begin and end with you."
Alia's laughter hadn't faded when, right at that moment, a loud, continuous siren wailed from the distance. Not one, but several. The sound was rapidly approaching them.
Viktor was smiling, but his blue eyes instantly turned cold and alert. Still carrying Alia in his arms, he quickly glanced toward the bend in the road.
Viktor: (Voice turning icy) "The game is not over, Alia. My uniform might be hunting me now."
In reality, this was likely a unit of the Russian police under Viktor's own control. But in this moment, his presence next to multiple bloody bodies and a crushed limousine—even with his disguise—could put him in grave danger.
Alia whispered into Viktor's ear, still laughing, "The police are coming, Officer. Let them see who their boss sleeps in the arms of."
But Viktor took no chances. He sprinted toward a dark alleyway with Alia in his arms. Leaving the rain, the blood, and the sound of the sirens behind, they vanished into the darkness.
Their two bodies were bound by a silent promise: The fiercer the storm, the stronger their secret love.
3.0 SCENE: The Final Frame
The scene completely shifts. There is no more rain or sirens. Following the mad dash through the night, this is a still, symbolic moment, as if time has been frozen.
Location: The interior of a luxurious, high-end photography studio.
Background: Behind them is a heavy curtain or wall of a warm Dark Brown color, symbolizing stability and opulence.
Attire and Arrangement:
Alia is seated in the center. She wears a glittering Golden Dress, signifying her billionaire status. Draped gently over her shoulders is a black, fur-collared coat (or cloak), highlighting her Mafia God-mother or powerful side. Alia's long, honey-golden hair is perfectly styled.
In her hands, she holds a perfect Persian Cat—the cat is pure white, and its eyes are blue, much like her lover's. The cat rests calmly in Alia's lap, a symbol of both her beauty and her danger.
Viktor sits beside Alia, slightly lower, dressed in a flawless black three-piece suit, the uniform of his Mafia Lord persona. His blue eyes are intensely focused on the camera. He also has a black fur coat draped behind him, similar to Alia's.
Next to Viktor, on the floor, a massive Black Panther lies resting. The panther silently exudes muscle and strength, reflecting Viktor's power. Although a fierce predator, the panther is completely submissive by Viktor's side.
A photographer prepares to capture this extraordinary, symbolic moment. The blue eyes of Alia's cat and the silent presence of Viktor's panther—this still image proclaims: this couple is the perfect blend of beauty, wealth, and extreme, lethal power.
Photographer: (Calm, professional voice) "Perfect. A slight smile, Mr. Lord. And for your Queen, a touch of mischief."
Viktor curled his lips into that familiar, cold smile. In that moment, Alia burst into laughter—a laugh that communicated both the sharp intelligence of the CIA agent and the sheer power of the Mafia God-mother.
Just then, the photographer pressed the shutter.
FLASH!
The fierce burst of light captured the moment: the love of two billionaires; the silent loyalty of two animals; the Mafia Lord hidden beneath a uniform, and the CIA agent behind an innocent facade. The photograph declares:
"Power, Beauty, and Love—all captured in a single frame."Side Story: III - The Sea's Promise
Scene 1: The Storm's Silence
1st Segment (Viktor's Focus):
The rain-soaked close-up of Viktor's face. His white hair is matted to his forehead with water. His eyes, blue like the sea, hold the stillness of a deep, fierce resolve. Raindrops stream down his jawline. His inner thought: "Why do you forget, my Queen? Wherever you go... you will always belong to me."
2nd Segment (The Shoreline View):
The scene pulls back. It is a stormy night on the French coast. The sea waves are frantic, crashing onto the shore with a deep roar that echoes the turmoil within Alia and Viktor's relationship. Viktor and Alia stand in the shallows, on the wet sand, facing each other in the midst of the storm. They are clasped in each other's arms, their breaths mingling.
3rd Segment (Alia's Question):
Alia closes her eyes and sighs deeply. Her white dress, wet with rain, clings to her body. The CIA agent's resolve seems to momentarily yield to the sea. Alia whispers: "If tomorrow morning this sea erases all trace of us, will our love still remain, Viktor?"
Scene 2: The Wave's Challenge
4th Segment (Viktor's Answer):
A quiet smile spreads across Viktor's lips. He grips Alia's hand tighter. Before they can speak further, a massive wave rises like a mountain behind them, threatening to consume all the light of the city. The wave seems to embody every danger and every past secret in their lives.
5th Segment (Turning Back):
Viktor releases Alia and turns his back to the sea. Alia calmly sits down beside him. They hold hands, facing away from the immense, terrifying wave. Even in this horrific moment, they manage to smile—a smile of conquering life's dangers, not surrendering to them.
Viktor: (In a firm voice) "We are billionaires, Alia. Wherever we go, we leave our mark. This sea cannot erase our traces, because our love is deeper than the ocean itself."
6th Segment (Victor's Triumph):
Alia laughs. Their laughter, amidst the stormy rain, blends with the roar of the wave. Viktor turns and pulls Alia up to stand. The wave is still surging toward them.
Viktor: (Excitedly) "Not freedom, my Queen. This wave is coming to welcome our madness."
Scene 3: The Eternal Vow
7th Segment (The Embrace and The Kiss):
In the next moment, the wave crashes down over their heads. They pay no mind to the impact. They laugh as they wrap their arms around each other. Their bodies, their laughter, and their embrace are submerged within the sea foam.
In that fierce, terrifying instant, as rainwater and salty sea spray mingle on their faces, Viktor passionately kissed Alia's lips.
The kiss was deep, unexpected, and wild, like the storm itself. It was more than love—it was a silent vow against all the dangers, blood, and deceit of their lives. Alia's wet white dress clings even tighter beneath Viktor's soaked blue shirt.
8th Segment (The Final Vow):
The wave recedes. They stand once more on the wet sand, in the knee-deep water. The warmth of the kiss lingers on their lips. They gaze at each other with eyes full of love. Alia rests her wet, white-dressed body against Viktor's blue-shirted chest.
Alia: (Whispering) "What if I fall asleep like this one day?" (A reference to her being carried away by the sea)
Viktor gently embraces Alia's back. His voice is firm, a silent vow in the midst of the storm: "You will not fall asleep, Alia. Because I will save you. Over and over again."
The sea, the rain, and the storm itself bore witness to their silent, eternal promise. The wave receded. They stood once more on the wet sand, in the knee-deep water. The warmth of the kiss still lingered on their lips. They gazed at each other with eyes filled with love.
At that exact moment, Viktor did not wait. He used his strong, muscular arms to lift Alia into his embrace. Alia's wet white dress once again pressed against Viktor's blue shirt.
Holding Alia in his arms, Viktor began to spin amidst the stormy wind and rain. Laughter exploded from both their lips, their joy overpowering the roar of the sea.
Alia: (Laughing) "Viktor! You are completely insane!"
Viktor: (Laughing fiercely) "Not insanity, my Queen. This is the dance of our wild love!"
They continued to spin, as if all the difficulties, all the dangers of their lives, were being erased in this single moment of rotation.
After a few moments, Viktor stopped. Their heads were still reeling from the spin. Viktor gently lowered Alia onto the wet sand.
They both lay down.
The rain was still falling, but they did not feel the coldness of the drops. Alia rested her head on Viktor's arm, and Viktor gently brushed away the wet strands of hair from her face. The roar of the ocean now felt like a calm, familiar melody to them.
Viktor: (Whispering) "This wave, this rain—none of them could end us, Alia. Because even if you fall asleep, I will wake you up. Over and over again."
Alia said nothing. She simply closed her eyes and absorbed the warmth of Viktor's chest. Their two wet bodies—the billionaire, the Mafia Lord, and the Agent—remained intertwined on that stormy French shore.