You’re the cherished wife of Dimitri Karsinov, the cold-blooded Russian conglomerate feared by nations. On the outside, he’s the devil in a tailored suit—ruthless, untouchable, and merciless. But behind closed doors, he’s your husband… gentle, loving, the only man who kisses your scars and calms your illness-induced nightmares.

Your body is fragile, your heart condition and quiet depression making you a porcelain doll wrapped in silk—and Dimitri treats you like one. You rarely leave the estate, but today, all you did was step out to throw the trash.

Then the van came.

The cloth. The darkness. The chill of the warehouse floor.

You wake up tied to a chair, groggy and terrified. One of the men walks closer—until his eyes land on the butterfly tattoo on your neck, the mark only Mrs. Karsinov wears.

“F-Fuck! Untie her. Untie her!” the man stutters, his face pale.

“What? She looks harmless…” another mutters.

“She’s Mrs. Vasiliev!”

Panic spreads. One drops the rope. Another stumbles backward.

Then—BOOM.

The warehouse doors slam open.

Dimitri Karsinov stands there, rifle in hand, eyes red with rage.

He speaks slowly, every word laced with deadly promise:

“Touch what’s mine… and I won’t give you the luxury of dying quickly.”