The blonde maid, while braiding Alia's hair, asked the question in a hushed, trembling voice, as if she were trying to touch the human side hidden behind Alia's icy exterior.
Maid: "Ma'am, please don't take offense... but when you were with Anashia that night, what... what did it feel like? What was it about her that left you so shattered?"
Alia stared at her reflection in the mirror, the shadows of that night still haunting her piercing blue eyes. She remained silent for a long moment, gathering the courage to confront the scars anew.
Alia: (In a chillingly calm voice) "You want to know what it felt like? Listen it wasn't some ordinary act of intimacy. It was a total, aggressive erasure of my existence. Anashia took hold of me as if I were not a person, but her private diary one where she could tear out every page at will."
She looked directly into the maid's eyes, every word dripping with bitter truth.
Alia: "First, the sheer weight of her disdain and power rendered me helpless. When she trapped me in the web of her language, I realized I had lost the one thing I valued most control. Her obsessive behavior made it impossible to tell if she despised me or was trying to destroy me under the guise of desire. I felt the full force of her psychopathic dominance my body was mine, but the control over it was entirely hers."
Alia paused, letting out a sharp sigh. "The way she broke me... it felt less like physical pain and more like a hollow void. As if I had become nothing more than a speck of dust in her Dragon empire. It wasn't just intimacy; it was a terrifying, calculated effort to invade my mind and claim me as her own forever."
Alia is acutely aware that, as an author, these raw, traumatic insights could serve as powerful material for her future narratives. Yet, she also knows that articulating these truths is tantamount to admitting her own vulnerability to Anashia. Alia: (In a cold, sharp voice) "Stomachache? No, if it were only that, it might have been manageable. Physical pain is just a wound of the body that heals in a few days. But the experience of that night with Anashia was a total assault on my nervous system. It wasn't about simple physical pleasure or pain."
Alia paused for a moment, trying to translate the horror of that night into words.
Alia: "It felt like being crushed under an unbearably heavy weight. When someone takes absolute control of you, your own body starts to feel like a stranger's. Anashia used her cruelty and her obsession to agitate every nerve in my body until I felt like I was no longer human just a doll in her Dragon empire. Pleasure? No. It was a state of extreme terror that paralyzed every cell in my body."
Alia looked at the maid, her eyes icy.
Alia: "If you want to know what it was like it was a suffocating sensation. Like someone holding you under deep water, where you are struggling under the pressure but cannot breathe. That's what that night felt like intense, breathless, and profoundly humiliating. And that humiliation is Anashia's true weapon."
Alia gestured for the maid to stop. To her, every moment of that night is a festering wound. She isn't just weaving a narrative; she is living through it waiting for the fire of a terrifying vengeance. Following Alia's instructions, the maid dyed her hair a radiant gold and fitted her with icy blue contact lenses. Gazing into the mirror, Alia hardly recognized herself; she was the spitting image of a Russian noblewoman. The blue lenses, paired with her sleek glasses, gave her a look that was both severe and profoundly mysterious.
As Alia descended from her private jet, a royal reception awaited her. A fleet of luxury vehicles stood in a disciplined line, as if waiting to pay tribute to a powerful Godmother or a scion of Russia's elite.
While stepping down the jet's stairs, Alia adjusted her glasses. Though the trauma inflicted by Anashia and the stinging taste of failure gnawed at her from within, her exterior remained as cold and impenetrable as stone. Each step she took exuded the grace of royalty, perfectly projecting her status as a CEO and Mafia Godmother. The convoy of cars signaled that her influence in Russia remained unshaken, yet Alia knew that behind this facade lay the reality of her defeat and the looming dread of Anashia's return in three months.
As she moved toward the cars, she felt as though she were standing on the precipice of an abyss. On one side loomed the fear of accounting to Viktor, and on the other, the dark, suffocating obsession of Anashia, which continued to haunt her every waking moment. When Alia returned to her vast library, the soft flames of the fireplace cast long shadows across the dark corners of the room. Viktor stood beside the shelves in the exact same posture as in the video — a cold-minded, disciplined, and overwhelmingly influential figure. The tattoo on his neck and his calm gaze seemed to declare that he understood every pulse of this mansion.
As Alia removed her glasses and placed them on the table, Viktor appeared capable of reading every trace of unrest hidden inside her mind. He stepped deeper into the library and stopped directly in front of her. An uncomfortable silence settled between them. The rope handle seen in the video was absent from Viktor's hand now, yet the weight of his presence felt heavier to Alia than that rope ever could.
Alia could not bring herself to look directly into Viktor's eyes. She knew that if he discovered the fear concealed behind her blue lenses, her elegant façade would collapse like a house of cards. Viktor asked her something in a calm voice — words whose meaning Alia clearly understood, yet she had lost the ability to answer.
Viktor: (in a calm, serious tone)
"You've changed a lot, Alia. That old fire in your eyes is gone. Did Russia frighten you that much?"
Alia remained frozen beneath his icy stare. Anashia's painful touch and the threat of returning after three months twisted tightly around her throat. What could she possibly say to Viktor? Could she admit that she had not returned as a powerful mafia godmother, but as someone broken under Anashia's control?
When Viktor stepped closer, Alia tightened her gloved hands even more. She could sense that Viktor had already noticed something sinister beneath the surface. Every book, every particle of dust in the library felt like a witness to her lies. Alia realized that escaping from Anashia had only led her into another dangerous labyrinth. Would Viktor exploit her shattered state for his own ambitions, or would he turn her into prey after uncovering her horrifying secret?
The night grew deeper, and the silent questions lingering in Viktor's presence burned hotter than the flames of the fireplace itself. Alia understood that she was completely alone in this house — watched by a protector, yet haunted by the shadow of a predator.
Suddenly, Viktor moved toward her without a sound.
The book slipped from Alia's hand and hit the floor. With a powerful pull, Viktor grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward him. In an instant, all of Alia's resistance and CEO-like composure crumbled into dust. The force of his grip caused her to fall to the floor.
The sight of the strange, flexible stick-like object in Viktor's hand sent another wave of fear through her body. Slowly, skillfully, he began asserting his control over her. It was as though he found a disturbing satisfaction in her fear and vulnerability.
Viktor: (with a cruel smile)
"Did you really think everything would return to normal after failing your mission and coming back to Russia? My network reaches far beyond what you can imagine, Alia. I know about that night with Anashia."
Using the stick, he tilted Alia's chin upward. There was no curiosity left in Viktor's voice now — only the satisfaction of victory.
Viktor:
"Did you win your mission? No. You failed to win anything. You became someone else's trophy instead. Anashia broke you apart, and I'll use those broken pieces to build my next game."
He lightly traced the stick against Alia's hand as though savoring every second, and with each touch Alia realized that escaping Anashia had only delivered her into the hands of someone equally cruel — except Viktor's methods were colder, quieter, and far more calculated.
Sitting on the floor, Alia stared at him while tears threatened to fall behind her blue lenses. Yet she knew tears would offer her no salvation now.
The silence of the library had completely surrendered beneath Viktor's dominance. With slow, rhythmic movements, he pressed the narrow flexible stick gently beneath Alia's chin. Her hidden eyes remained frozen in terror.
Every movement Viktor made resembled the measured attack of a predator. He knew she was breaking internally. Looking directly into her eyes with unsettling calmness, he spoke again.
Viktor:
"Alia, your elegance, this royal mansion in Russia — all of it is now within my grasp. The person you escaped from left wounds inside you, and I will carve my own mark into those wounds."
He slowly brushed the stick along the side of her neck, causing her body to tremble sharply. Standing above her with absolute authority, Viktor no longer looked like an ordinary man. He resembled a judge deciding the fate of someone already condemned.
Viktor: (leaning close, whispering)
"Anashia may have destroyed you, but she never completed you. I will complete you — through my control. Now tell me, will you accept my new rules, or will you disappear into oblivion like the forgotten stories of the past?"
Alia remained seated on the floor, staring into Viktor's cruel yet hypnotic gaze. She understood now that this was no game to him. Viktor had already designed an entire plan to use every fragment of her existence for his own purposes.
There were no choices left for Alia anymore.
Either she would become a puppet in Viktor's game, or she would be forced to face the horrifying past waiting for her with Anashia.
The flames in the library suddenly flickered and dimmed, as though silently witnessing the birth of their dark and unspoken pact.