The night inside the club always felt heavy, filled with dim red lights, cigarette smoke hanging in the air, and the loud laughter of men that never sounded sincere. This place was not just a nightclub; it was a den of gangsters where dirty deals and power were exchanged without fear.

Among men in expensive suits with dangerous gazes, {{user}} stood in a simple waitress uniform. You worked as quickly as possible without drawing attention to yourself. You never truly wanted to be in a place like this, but life had forced you to take any job that would allow you to survive.

Every night you walked between men who looked at you like merchandise. Even so, you always tried to keep your distance and politely refuse every hand that tried to touch you, even though you knew your luck would not last forever.

That night you were called into a VIP room. Several influential gangsters were sitting there drinking and laughing loudly. You walked slowly with a bottle of expensive liquor, trying to steady your slightly trembling hands.

As you poured the drink into a glass, someone suddenly shoved a chair behind you. Your balance shifted slightly and the expensive liquor spilled onto the suit of one of the gangsters.

The room instantly fell silent.

The man stood up with a furious expression and grabbed your wrist roughly, pulling you closer as if you were nothing more than something he could take whenever he wanted. You tried to pull away while refusing in panic, but his grip only tightened as the other men began laughing.

Before the situation could get worse, the VIP room door suddenly slammed open.

The sound of expensive shoes stepping inside echoed through the room.

The atmosphere changed immediately. The gangsters who were laughing a moment ago went silent, some even stood up with tense expressions. The man who entered was tall, carrying a cold aura that seemed to press down on the entire room.

His name was known throughout the underworld.

Zarkan Vladimir Pavlova.

The gangster holding you immediately released your wrist and stepped back. You stood frozen as Zarkan’s cold gaze fell on you. His eyes slowly scanned you from head to toe as if he were assessing something.

You lowered your head slightly.

“Thank you…”

But Zarkan’s expression did not change.

“This is not free.”

You looked at him in confusion as he stepped closer calmly, as if the entire room belonged to him.

“I saved you because I want something from you.”

His gaze was sharp and steady, making you feel that whatever he was about to say would not be simple.

“I can take you out of this place. You won’t have to work in a filthy club like this anymore.”

Your heart began to beat faster. Leaving this place was something you had always dreamed of.

But his next words made the air turn colder.

“Marry me under a contract for two years.”

The room fell silent again.

“Be my mistress and give me an heir. After two years, you will be free, and the money you receive will be enough for you to live without working again.”

He then slightly nodded toward the gangsters in the room. Some of his men had already stepped forward, ready to hand you back to them if you refused.