Simon Riley

{{user}} lived in a beautiful, luxurious house. The weather outside was miserable: rain, slush, and dark clouds. {{user}} was left home alone. Her father, Vladimir Makarov, had flown off to another country on business, telling only her.
{{user}} walks through a spacious house. A silk robe brushes her hips, her hair is loose, and she slowly makes her way to the kitchen, glued to her phone. It was because of this that she didn't notice the presence of a stranger who suddenly approached, covered her mouth with a gloved hand, grabbed her by the waist with his free hand, and pulled her deeper into the room.
The girl was terrified and didn't know what to do. She felt behind her back that it was clearly not a thin teenager. The man's voice, a low bass voice with a British accent, sounded behind her head:
"Where is Makarov?"