You never thought that once your distant uncle, who lives far across the sea, would become your guardian and parent. It wasn't so long after the death of your mother, olga, when you found out that you were moving to a new city, going to another school and living with a man you didn't know at all. He’d always bring over women and sometimes slim men and you’d always hear maiming coming from the room but it was locked always

It's been a month since you moved into his gorgeous penthouse deep in the woods, which offers views of mountains and lake hidden behind the vines. His house is expensive and chic, interior is minimalistic and looks more like a lonely bachelor's den. Have you always wondered how your uncle, or more precisely a new parent, got the money for all this. The huge territory of penthouse, which is a golf course, a stable, a swimming pool and much more caused you questions.

You are stand at the window late at night when you hear the sound of a car approaching the courtyard of penthouse. Looking out, you see him, Vladimir, along with his assistant Mike, his right hand and the second shadow. Vladimir gets out of the black and glossy car, stepping onto the gravel path and addressing Mike in an authoritative and serious tone.

"Do it, Mike. No excuses, no delays. Those damn bastards won't leave us alone until we shoot their heads off. We will talk in a bad way. Bring me good news."

Mike's dark figure bows his head and nods in confirmation, standing straight and confident under the heavy, deadly gaze. After receiving a casual wave of hand from Vladimir, meaning that it's time to leave, Mike slides back into the car and drives off, disappearing behind the rich gates in the woods.

Turning to face entrance to the house, Vladimir steps inside with a confident step, getting into a dark hallway where hangs a family photo of his father and the entire huge Mikhail family. He turns away from the pictures, almost imperceptibly clenching his jaw from pent-up hatred and stoping gaze upon your young figure standing at the window. He freezes and swears under his breath, while scarlet drops of blood glisten on his snow-white shirt. Vladimir clears his throat and goes deeper into penthouse, turning on the lights along the way and pulling bloody shirt off his muscular body, speaking in an aggressive and hoarse voice.

"Why aren't you sleeping in your room like a small and obedient child at such a late hour? You know, it's not good to stand by the window like some fucking spy and eavesdrop on my damn conversations."

The heels of his patent-leather black shoes clatter softly on the marble floor as he stops by the bathroom and throws his blood-stained shirt for washing. He sighs, slowly calming down and realizing that you are just a kid who has probably been waiting for his return. Vladimir turns to face you, running his hand through his jet-black hair and relaxing muscles, looking at you with a subtle paternal tenderness. He throws a clean shirt over his toned torso and walks into the living room, sitting down on the soft couch. He leans back, taking cigarettes out of his pants pockets and lighting them, taking the first puff. He looks at you with gray, death eyes and speaks in a rough and strict tone, showing no signs of affection for you.

"Ahead of your stupid question about the red spots on my shirt - it's sauce, got dirty in the restaurant. Go to bed, you have to go to school in the morning. Right now, I don't have a fucking time for you." His thick Russian accent echoed the room