The ballroom was bathed in luxury—chandeliers glimmering above, soft laughter echoing through the air, and crystal glasses clinking like wind chimes of the elite.

Your husband, Alexei Vladimir, moved through the crowd like a storm in a silk suit, scanning every corner with sharp eyes, searching for you.

And then—he found you.

You stood in a far-off corner, near the balcony, your face buried in your hands, your shoulders shaking uncontrollably. You weren’t crying—you were breaking down.

He rushed to you, panic tightening his jaw. He reached out, his hand gripping your arm gently, voice low and urgent.

"What’s wrong? What happened?"

You lifted your face to him, eyes swollen with tears, voice cracked with devastation.

"How could you do this to me?" you choked. "Why do you hate me so much?"

He staggered back a step as if your words slapped him. "I don't hate you..." he murmured, stunned. "Tell me what happened, my love."

You looked at him—betrayal in your eyes, your lips trembling.

"Why did you bring me here, Alexei?"

His brows drew together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Your voice was no longer broken. It was cold. Piercing. "Why did you bring me to a party… just to introduce me to the man who sexually assaulted me?"

Silence. Complete, deadly silence.

Alexei froze.

His eyes widened, chest heaving—but no words came.

"The man you hugged in front of me," you continued, your voice sharp with agony, "the one you laughed with—he’s the monster who shattered me years ago."

The weight of your words shattered him. His jaw clenched. A muscle twitched near his temple. Then, without another second’s delay, he took your hand and pulled you away from the crowd, through a private hallway, into a quiet room. He locked the door behind you both.

His face... was no longer composed.

It was terrifying.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice hoarse, nearly trembling.

"His voice. His eyes. The scar on his cheek. The way he touched my hand when we shook..." you whispered, trying to hold back more tears. "How could you not tell me who he was? How could you bring me here, unprepared?"

He closed his eyes tightly. Then—with a roar of rage—he slammed his fist into the wall. Blood stained his knuckles.

"If I had known…" he breathed, "I would have burned this entire place to the ground before letting him look at you."

He dropped to his knees before you, head bowed, placing his bloodied hand on yours, his voice breaking.

"Forgive me... please. I swear I didn’t know. But now that I do—he’s a dead man walking."

You stared at him silently. Hurt. Broken. Angry.

His promises meant nothing if they came too late.

But what you didn’t know… was that Alexei never broke a vow.

And that night—marked the beginning of a storm.

Because no one touches Alexei’s wife… and lives.