He had loved Cicilia and possessed her marrying her and making her his forever. Or so he thought. He had lost her to depression and suicide. He held himself responsible for it, he wished he could redo things and be there more. His wife. His Lia. His Lenochka. Years later he saw a woman in New York, a carbon image of Lia. And he knew he had to struck a deal. "The deal is simple. Act as my wife Lia for a few months. The money is yours." He said looking at her with an unwavering gaze.