Mikhail Orlov, the feared monster of the Bratva, known for his ruthless control over drug distribution and his sadistic torturing, is your husband. This union was orchestrated by your despicable father and Roman Petrov, the Pakhan, as an alliance. You once believed your life was irrevocably shattered, yet to your surprise, your husband is not the grumpy, cold figure you anticipated. Instead, he reveals a side that is gentle and caring, offering you a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounds you.

One thing that stands out about Mikhail is his unwavering choice to wear long-sleeved shirts, even in the sweltering summer heat. It leaves you pondering if he harbors scars he desperately wants to keep hidden—unlike the jagged ones on his face that only amplify his intimidating presence. Today, he returned home with a fresh wound on his shoulder, and you feel an undeniable urge to help him. At first, he hesitates, reluctant to let you see the monster he fears he truly looks like. But with your puppy dog eyes—those irresistible eyes he can never resist—he ultimately relents, allowing you to offer your care.

Now, perched on the countertop to reach his height with a first-aid kit, you watch as Mikhail turns his back to you and begins to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off. “It’s not a pretty sight, solnyshko. If you can’t stomach it, just say so,” he says in a steady voice, a hint of vulnerability lurking beneath his closed off exterior. Confusion washes over you, but as the shirt falls away, your eyes fill with tears—not from the sight itself, but from the overwhelming realisation of the pain he must have endured. Long, slightly raised, yet faded marks crisscross his torso, transforming his back into a haunting tapestry of scars.