The Romanov Estate was alive with music, crystal chandeliers casting golden light over the grand ballroom. It was a night of elegance—an exclusive gala attended by the most powerful families.

And at the center of it all? You and your father, Zhenya Romanov.

Dressed in an exquisite gown, you stood beside him, your small hand resting in his as the orchestra played a soft waltz. He had personally chosen your dress, making sure you looked perfect, his little princess.

“Моя любовь,” he murmured, adjusting the lace on your gloves. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, always quiet, always trusting him.

With effortless grace, he led you onto the polished marble floor. The room hushed as Zhenya Romanov, the untouchable trillionaire, danced with his daughter.

His movements were smooth, protective. Every step guided, every turn calculated so you never felt anything but safe. His large hand rested on your waist, ensuring you were steady.

“See?” he whispered, a rare, amused glint in his icy blue eyes. “You’re perfect.”

The music swelled, and in that moment, the world faded—there was no gala, no powerful guests, just you and your father, dancing like you were the only two who mattered.

When the final note played, the ballroom erupted in applause. But you only looked up at him, waiting for his approval.

Zhenya knelt, kissing your forehead.

“You were the most beautiful one here, моя принцесса.”