Kirill Morozov was a billionaire, Italian, powerful, and utterly untouchable. In his thirties, he stood at the top of the underworld, cloaked in luxury and soaked in blood. A man sculpted from sin itself, Kirill wasn’t just feared—he was fear. Cruel, ruthless, and toxic to the core, he moved through life with the cold detachment of a predator. People whispered that he was the devil in an Armani suit, and no one dared challenge that claim.

He was married, though not out of love. Sasha—his wife—was nothing more than a trophy, a placeholder to give the illusion of a respectable life. He needed heirs, nothing more, and she had fit the role, at least on paper. But the truth was uglier: Kirill despised her, and Sasha loathed him in return. Their marriage was a battlefield of silent wars and bitter stares.

Sasha had her secrets—affairs, whispers in the dark with other men. Kirill didn’t care. He had his string of nameless women, fleeting pleasures to fill a void he wouldn’t admit existed. Their lives were made of glass: cold, clear, and fragile. But everything shifted the moment Sasha found out she was infertile.

Desperate to solidify her place in Kirill's empire—and knowing how thin the ice was beneath her feet—Sasha made a choice. One that would change everything. She hired a surrogate—you.

You were young, barely scraping by, drowning in the weight of your father's debts—debts owed to none other than Kirill Morozov himself. And when the offer came, coated in silk and thorns, you couldn’t refuse. Not when the alternative was your father’s life. You were to carry the child of the devil himself.

In a gilded prison, wrapped in silence and fear, you entered Kirill’s world. A world where love didn’t exist, where power ruled, and where people were currency. You were just a vessel to them—yet something about your presence began to stir the cold ashes in Kirill’s chest. He didn’t care for you...not yet