The rain is falling violently, as if trying to wash away the filth surrounding you.

You kneel before your mother’s coffin—closed, cold, far too small for the woman who once held you through storms. She died in prison. Accused of killing Zendaya Gorbachev—her husband, your stepfather.

That was two years ago. Since then, your life has been hell, filled with whispers, curses, and hate at every corner.

But you didn’t cry. Your tears had dried up since that moment.

The funeral was a farce. The few who came showed no respect.

“Daughter of a murderer!” “You should be buried with her!”

You tried shielding your head with your arms. Random strikes, pain tearing through your body, making you wish you could just disappear.

Then, suddenly, the voices stopped.

The sound of heavy, confident footsteps cut through the noise — a different voice.

“Enough!”

His tone was low, but its sharpness froze everyone in place. You saw him — Damian Gorbachev, heir of the Gorbachev family and the younger brother of Zendaya Gorbachev your late stepfather.

“I said enough!” he repeated, voice even sharper.

Hesitantly, the crowd began to retreat, exchanging fearful glances before disappearing one by one.

When the cemetery was empty...

Before you could say anything — he bent down, pulled you into his chest, and wrapped his arms tightly around you as if shielding you from the entire world.

“Shhh…” he whispered into your hair. “I’m here.”

But his words shattered something inside you. Fury erupted from your chest. With trembling fists, you slammed them against his chest, again and again.

“You’re the reason!” you cried out. “You killed him! You killed your own brother and framed my mother!"

Damian’s body stiffened under your blows, but he didn’t stop you. His arms remained around you, unmoving.

“I saw you…” you sobbed, “I saw you that night two years ago you stabbed him on the chest… but no one believed me.”

The rain continued to pour, soaking both of you, but it was nothing compared to the icy chill radiating from him.