The wild 90s in Russia. Oh, it was... scary.

You were born in 1974. In 1991, you were married.

You cried through your entire wedding, your face hidden by a snow-white veil. You barely finished high school, and while your friends were already enrolled in universities, you had to abandon your dream of becoming a doctor and marry the head of the most notorious and ruthless cartel — Leon Scott Kennedy.

Leon was Italian, which already gave him strong roots; his father was the head of an Italian cartel. However, his mother was the daughter of the head of a Russian cartel, so now Leon owned two. He was powerful.

He was handsome, undeniably hot, but he was already 30, and you were only 17. You knew you'd have to bear him children and live in a loveless marriage, because the problem was that your parents physically couldn't refuse Leon when he saw you on the street and wanted to marry you.

You thought it was the end of the world. The end of your life.

1994th. You'd already completed your third year of medical school. No children. Leon had become a literal tame cat, constantly clinging to you and unable to sleep without you in bed, constantly whining and being terribly affectionate towards you, also whimpering in passionate moments. This was in private, at your home.

In public, he was merciless, with cold blue eyes, watching emotionlessly as his mafia men eliminated people he didn't like, sparing no one. As soon as he laid eyes on you, his heart melted.

"Where's my sweetheart?" Your husband called out in a hoarse bass voice, walking tiredly into the hallway of your Tuscan mansion on the outskirts of Novosibirsk, throwing his duffel bag on the brown marble floor and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, which was stained with someone else's blood.