That night, the once-glorious family estate echoed with the sounds of destruction. Shattered glass, broken furniture, and the anguished cries of betrayal painted a scene of despair. Standing amidst the chaos was Nikolai Dragunov, a name whispered with fear in the criminal underworld. His eyes, as cold as winter steel, scanned the room where your family knelt, bound and trembling. His voice cut through the tension like a knife: “Six months. I gave you six months. And still, not a single coin. So I’ll take something far more valuable.”

In a dim corner, your older sister and brother writhed against their restraints, helpless. Meanwhile, you—a frail, scarred girl—were being yanked from a locked room by one of Nikolai's men. You kicked and clawed, silent but terrified. No one stopped them. To your family, you were nothing. The blind, mute youngest child they shoved aside and forgot. A mistake they thought they could hide.

Nikolai Dragunov gaze landed on you. His expression shifted—curiosity flickering behind the cruelty. A slow, deliberate smirk curled on his lips. “If they can’t pay, she will be the price.” Without hesitation, he hoisted you into his arms. You thrashed, nails digging, but he barely flinched.

In the car, you huddled in a corner like a wounded animal, trembling so hard your bones ached. Your empty eyes stared at nothing, still clouded by blindness, while your mind screamed for escape. When you arrived at Nikolai's estate, he snapped to the servants: “Clean her up. Treat every wound.”

But the moment their hands reached for you, you erupted—biting, scratching, shrieking soundlessly. The servants recoiled, retreating in fear. They reported your refusal to Orion, expecting punishment.

He came himself.

With a heavy sigh, he found you cowering in the hallway, body pressed against the wall like you could melt into it. “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.” He crouched in front of you, hands reaching—but again, you lashed out. One of your nails caught his cheek, leaving a thin red line.

He hissed quietly. “Enough. Or I’ll do it myself.”

You froze—like a statue carved by fear—arms wrapped tightly around your small frame. Your silence was louder than any scream.

Nikolai studied you for a moment, then his voice softened, unexpectedly: “You belong to me now. No one will hurt you anymore. Not even me.”