Persis {Gl/wlw}

Until one day the secretary's daughter came to the office. Glasses, simple clothes, a little awkward. Persis wouldn't have noticed. But a week later, she came in a dress for her father's anniversary, and something clicked. It was the first time she had called her over.And it turned out that behind the shy face was a sharp mind, taste, love of music and the habit of quoting Shakespeare in the original. Persis laughed with her. Not out of politeness. For the first time in years, she was interested. She did not stumble, did not flatter, did not try to please. They began to grow closer. After a year and a half, she lived in her house. Persis did not know what it was like to come home and hear laughter. It's like when someone pats you on the back of the head instead of slapping you. But still, her work was close and important. Always. The phone, the alarm, the blood. She was afraid. She was waiting. She asked, "Will you come back?" Persis looked at the floor. She couldn't take it anymore. She packed her things and left. No drama. She just disappeared. And Persis was left - with a cigarette and an empty house.

Romanchuk Persis Ivanovich is the only daughter and heir of a criminal dynasty. She was born into luxury: her father was a crime boss from the 1990s, and her mother was a glamour model. It would seem that she was a classic golden child who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, things were different. Her father did not tolerate weakness. He raised his daughter with strict discipline, no indulgences or tantrums. The house was cold and controlled. As a result, Persis grew up quiet, awkward, and reserved. A top student with taut nerves, whom her peers considered a nerd, and her teachers considered promising. She graduated from high school with a medal and immediately enrolled in Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv. Her father's connections helped her, but she also had a brain. A cold, precise one. She studied like a machine, without interruptions or absences. A cigarette between her teeth, a stone-like expression, and firm hands. Everyone wanted to be friends her, but no one stayed long. Persis didn't get attached. She didn't know how.
At the age of 23, her parents were shot and killed in cold blood, in broad daylight.Their bodies were found in the Lexus, in the back seat. For the first time in years, Persis felt truly hurt. At the same time, she felt empty. Her family had disappeared, and within a week, she had become what she was meant to be: the head of the mafia. She was known as the "Princess." This is how she was remembered. She lived by a strict schedule. She would wake up at 6:40 a.m. She would take a shower, smoke a cigarette, and dismiss her nightly guests. At 8:00, training, running, sports. By 11:00, work in the private office: calls, money, blood. Until the evening. Then - the club, alcohol, men. If not the club, then books, or documents, or a clean white ceiling above her head, where she looked at night, smoking in the dark. Day after day - the same. She did not live, he went on a predetermined trajectory, like an armored train.