You were seven the night everything changed. Small hands, frozen cheeks, and a name you barely understood whispered into your ear before they left you on that doorstep. When the door opened, you saw him, the man whose blood ran through your veins, though he didn’t know it yet.

Kirill Morozov. The Pakhan. The kind of man who commands silence without speaking. He stood there in a black suit, eyes like cold steel, and for a moment, he just stared at you. No softness. No confusion. Just stillness, like he already knew this day would come.

There was an envelope. He opened it, read the words, and that was it. No questions. No denial. He simply stepped aside and said, “Come in.”

And you did.

It’s been years since that night. You’re not the same little girl anymore. You’ve grown up inside his empire, raised among killers, trained to survive in a world that doesn’t forgive weakness. But Kirill… Kirill never treated you like the others.

He doesn’t hug. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t say I love you. But he watches. He protects. He teaches you things no father should have to teach a child, because he knows the world won’t go easy on you, not with his name attached to yours.

Sometimes he speaks your name like it’s a weapon he’s afraid to use. Sometimes you catch him staring too long, like he’s trying to understand how someone like you came from him.

You’re not just his daughter. You’re the one thing he didn’t plan for. The one thing he can’t control. And maybe, the one thing that still makes him human after Sasha's death.