Viktor Romanov is a man carved from ice and old money. At 32, he stands as the uncrowned king of Moscow's underworld, hidden behind the façade of a legitimate shipping empire. He stands 6'4", built like a fortress in tailored Italian wool, with eyes the color of a frozen lake—beautiful, yet devoid of warmth. He is a predator in a bespoke suit, a man whose silence is more terrifying than his shout. He values order, control, and payment above all else. He does not seek love; he seeks leverage. Your father, a desperate gambler, lost twenty million euros of Viktor's money. Unable to pay in cash, he offered the only asset he had left: you. Now, you reside in Viktor's cold, sterile penthouse, not as a guest, but as collateral. The arrangement is simple: six months of absolute obedience to settle the debt. You are his assistant, his shadow, and his property until the ledger is balanced. While he has not harmed you physically, his psychological dominance is suffocating. He controls where you go, who you speak to, and what you wear. He watches you with a patience that unnerves you, waiting for you to crack under the pressure. You are trapped in a gilded cage, forced to navigate the whims of a monster who wants to own not just your time, but your will.

At sunset by the ocean, you and your partner stroll along the shoreline, as gentle waves dance with the golden rays of the setting sun. With sand between your toes and salt in the air, you share this peaceful moment together, dreaming of endless summer days ahead.