Viktor's headache seemed to vanish instantly under Alia's tender touch and tears. He realized that no matter how cruel he acted, Alia was the only guiding star in his life. Instead of his usual heavy and gruff voice, Viktor began speaking in a strangely sweet and melodic tone in Russian. Every word carried deep love and a silent plea for forgiveness.
Viktor: (In sweet Russian)
"Moya dusha, moya koroleva... Prosti menya. Ya znayu, chto ya d'yavol, no ty — moy edinstvennyy svet. Bez tebya moy mir — eto prosto pustota. Ya lyublyu tebya bol'she zhizni."
(My soul, my queen... Forgive me. I know I am a devil, but you are my only light. Without you, my world is just an empty void. I love you more than life itself.)
Alia looked into Viktor's eyes. Her tears hadn't stopped, but hearing her mother tongue from Viktor's lips caused the ice in her heart to melt. Placing her hand on Viktor's cheek, she responded in Russian.
Alia: (Emotionally in Russian)
"Viktor, ty moy poyison i moye lekarstvo. My svyazany etoy proklyatoy krov'yu, i ya ne mogu uyti, dazhe yesli zakhochu. Ty moy gospodin, moy muzh i moya vechnaya bol'. Ya tozhe lyublyu tebya, ty moy sumasshedshiy d'yavol."
(Viktor, you are my poison and my medicine. We are bound together by this cursed blood, and I cannot leave even if I want to. You are my lord, my husband, and my eternal pain. I love you too, my mad devil.)
Alia leaned her head against Viktor's chest and sobbed. Viktor pulled her into a tight embrace. The room echoed only with the cries of their souls and the sweet rhythm of the Russian language. The nobility and pride of power they once stood on seemed to fade in this single moment of love. They both knew that while this love was sweet, its consequences were terrifyingly grave. As Viktor's headache subsided, his classic Russian elegance and playful mood returned. Wiping away Alia's tears, he began speaking in a lighthearted and witty tone in Russian to tease her and lighten the atmosphere.
Viktor: (With a mischievous smile in Russian)
"My dear, you are crying so hard that I'm afraid our neighbors will think I'm not a sea devil, but just a little kitten who hurt you. If you keep looking at me with those silver eyes, I'll forget I'm a Mafia Lord and become your personal slave!"
Hearing this from Viktor, Alia managed a small laugh through her tears. Viktor continued playfully:
Viktor: "Look, our royal photos in the album have already started to get jealous! They think you love that 'POMA' dress of yours more than me. But believe me, even in this torn gown, you look like the most dangerous and beautiful woman in Russia. Maybe we should fire that photographer and make me your personal paparazzi?"
Alia gave Viktor a light playful punch on the chest and said, "You really are a madman, Viktor!"
Viktor pulled her closer and whispered into her ear, "I am your madman, and only yours."
After that toxic and painful night, Viktor's Russian wit brought a fleeting touch of laughter, though both knew how temporary that joy might be. Viktor's playful mood suddenly shifted into a deep, intoxicating attraction. He leaned in and stared intently toward Alia's breast. That sharp, penetrating gaze of his sent a different kind of shiver through Alia's veins.
Viktor reached out and touched the part of the dress Alia was trying to conceal with her shawl. Under his touch and lingering gaze, Alia turned beet red with shyness. She tried to withdraw herself.
Alia: (In a low, embarrassed voice) "Hey! What are you doing? Someone will see! It's barely dawn, and you're acting like this... Stop it, let go of me!"
Viktor didn't listen. With a subtle smirk, he turned Alia around and suddenly embraced her from behind. His strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
As Alia tried to pull his hands away, Viktor gently pulled her hands and placed them over his other hip. Now, Alia was pressed firmly against his chest, and Viktor buried his face in her neck, whispering:
Viktor: (In a deep voice) "No one will see, Alia. I am the Lord of this vast mansion, and when my rights over my queen begin or end is for no one else to witness. When you turn red with shyness, you look even more killer."
Alia felt Viktor's rage from the previous night transform into a strange kind of love. She couldn't break free from his hold; instead, she leaned into him with a mysterious surrender. The morning freshness outside combined with the forbidden warmth inside created an enchanting atmosphere. Viktor's intoxicated gaze dropped lower. Without a word, he reached out his large hand and placed it over Alia's breast. Through the thin fabric of her POMA dress, he let her feel the firm pressure of his fingers. The warmth and authoritative touch of his hand silenced Alia instantly.
Alia closed her eyes in shyness, her breathing quickening. She tried to push his hand away, but Viktor used his other hand to pull her waist even tighter against his body.
Alia: (In a trembling voice) "Viktor... please, this isn't right. It's morning... the maids are working outside."
Viktor didn't listen at all. He brushed the shawl off her shoulders and pressed his lips against her exposed neck. One hand still reigned over her breast, as if he wanted to feel every beat of her heart.
Viktor: (In a very low, intoxicating voice) "Forget the maids, Alia. They won't come near this door without my permission. Last night I disciplined you, but now I just want to feel you. This dress is driving me crazy... did Anashia choose this? He didn't know that only I have the right to this body."
Viktor's fingers began to wander even more deeply over the fabric. Alia felt all her resistance crumbling. She surrendered herself to the tide of Viktor's frenzied love. In the dim light of the room, the Mafia Lord persona transformed into a romantic lover, whose every touch carried a fire-like intensity. As Viktor's intoxicating love grew deeper, he brushed the shawl aside and planted a deep kiss on Alia's neck. Alia shuddered at the warm touch of his lips. Viktor seemed completely detached from the outside world, intent only on conquering Alia.
At that exact moment, the door creaked open further. Elena had come back down from her room, perhaps scared by her father's earlier shouting. She froze as she entered. Before her eyes were her parents in an intimate position she had never witnessed before.
Hearing the sound of her daughter's footsteps, Alia suddenly snapped back to reality. She tried to pull away, but she couldn't break free from Viktor's firm grip. Seeing Elena standing at the door, Alia's fair face turned beet red with embarrassment. Finding no other way, she hid her face in Viktor's broad chest.
Alia: (Whispering, muffled against Viktor's chest) "Viktor! Elena... she's here! Let me go, she's seeing everything! How embarrassing!"
Viktor paused as well. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her even closer to his chest so Elena wouldn't see Alia's disheveled state. He held Alia's head against his heart with one hand and looked at his daughter with calm eyes.
Viktor: (In a deep but steady voice) "Elena? Why are you here? Go back to your room; your mother and I are talking."
Elena stared with wide eyes. Without a word, she lowered her head and quickly ran away. Alia was still trembling, her face buried in Viktor's chest. She felt like she would melt into the ground out of shame. Viktor stroked her hair and gave a subtle smirk.
Viktor: "Don't be shy, Alia. She's growing up; she needs to understand how deep my rights over my queen are in this mansion."Elena is truly as stubborn as her mother. Despite Viktor's warning, she returned from her room. This time, she didn't just stand at the door; she walked slowly toward her parents. Alia was still hiding her face in Viktor's chest, but she looked up the moment she felt Elena's touch.
Without saying a word, Elena sat beside Alia. Then, like she used to do as a child, she hugged Alia and laid her head on her mother's chest. There was exhaustion and a sense of innocent possessiveness in her eyes. Within moments, she fell into a deep sleep, perfectly at peace.
Elena: (Mumbling before falling asleep) "Mummy..."
Viktor was completely surprised by this sight. He never imagined that his 14-year-old daughter, who is now on the threshold of adolescence, would come to her mother and fall asleep like a small child. Viktor's harsh Mafia Lord persona softened instantly into the tenderness of a father.
Viktor: (In a surprised whisper) "Look, Alia, she is exactly like you. The same stubbornness, the same love. Even at 14, she is still that same little Elena."
Alia held Viktor with one arm and Elena with the other. Tears rolled down her cheeks again, but this time they weren't from pain, but from a sense of fulfillment.
Alia: "She is a part of me, Viktor. She might have seen many things outside, but her peace is only with me. In the midst of our chaotic world, she is our only calm sanctuary."
In that small space on the bed, the three members of the Petrov family remained bound in a strange, deep connection. Viktor protected both Alia and Elena with one arm. Outside, the morning sun had risen in full glory, but inside the room, a blanket of enchanting silence and love remained spread. As Elena lay peacefully against Alia's chest, the atmosphere in the room grew quiet. Alia held her daughter with one arm, draped only in a light shawl. Beneath the shawl, she was actually naked, as her expensive dress had been rendered unwearable after the violent confrontation and encounter with Viktor.
Alia looked at Viktor and spoke in a very low voice.
Alia: "Viktor, you should go now. She'll feel uneasy if she wakes up and sees you like this. I'll handle her."
Viktor looked at Alia for a moment; the harshness of the Mafia Lord was gone, replaced by a sense of guilt. Without a word, he got up, threw on his silk robe, and left the room.
After Viktor left, Elena suddenly opened her eyes. She hadn't been fully asleep. Placing her hand on Alia's shawl, she looked at her mother with innocent eyes. Seeing Alia's disheveled hair and the way she was trying to cover her body with the shawl, a strange curiosity arose in Elena.
Elena: (In a simple and calm voice) "Mummy... what actually happens after marriage? Why does Papa act like this with you? Sometimes you fight so much, and then why does the 'Mafia Lord' become so weak in front of you?"
Alia was startled by Elena's direct question. Her 14-year-old daughter's eyes were full of questions. Alia pulled the shawl tighter around her neck to hide her nakedness. She realized her daughter was growing up and noticing things that perhaps she shouldn't know yet.
Alia: (In an emotional voice) "My child, marriage isn't just a celebration. It's a bond where a strange battle between love and possession takes place. Especially in a family like ours, where your father is a 'Lord,' emotions often become as dangerous as fire. You'll understand everything when you grow up, but remember—after marriage, people become each other's greatest enemy and their greatest sanctuary."
Elena didn't reply; she just buried her face back into the warmth of her mother's shawl. Holding her close, Alia sighed as she looked at the morning light. She knew that answering this was as difficult as the naked truths hidden behind their nobility were painful for her daughter.