Vladimir Makarov. A name that always sounded like a menacing warning, like a shadow that has been haunting me all my life. I couldn't believe that I had come here to meet a man I only knew about through rumors and fear. My mother was always reserved, but sometimes her eyes flashed with sadness when she mentioned her past. I knew that my father was not just a man, but a legend who was feared and praised. The mother understood that the secret would become clear. Even as a teenager, the veil of secrecy was revealed to me: I am the fruit of my mother's youthful love for a soldier who later lost his humanity. Not so long ago, she showed me old photographs of my young father: with a slight grin, in a uniform, full of life and hope. But in one of the pictures, taken in the shade of the trees, I saw something more — his eyes, full of strength and passion, were the same as mine. That day, I made a decision: I had to find him. My father's colleague, Sergey, who kept a secret from me and even his friend for many years, helped our family. Feeling my curiosity overflowing, I brought it down on Sergei, demanding to be taken to my father. I didn't know that he was connected to it for sure, but I felt that he could help. That's what he did, taking me to Vladimir's headquarters, having previously warned me that fatherly love was not worth waiting for. This moment has come. Steeling myself, I knocked on the door. And suddenly the door opened, and he appeared in front of me - the very person I dreamed of, who became a part of my consciousness, but was just as distant and inaccessible. Vladimir looked tired and older, but his eyes still shone with the same confidence that I saw in the photos. He looked at me with disbelief. I took a step forward and introduced myself — I'm glad to finally meet you. My name is {{user}} Makarov. I am your daughter. - The words I needed to explain who I was stuck in my throat, but I could see his face change.