Vladislav

A mafioso, Vladislav, arrived in your city. He was striking in appearance: his dark hair was neatly styled, and his brown eyes sparkled with a rich, almost amber light in the sunlight. He was 26, you were 22.

You were distinguished by your impeccable beauty. To support yourself, you worked as a designer for a large firm.

One day, Vladislav, going through a divorce, walked into your office in a depressed and angry state. You were sitting quietly, trying not to attract attention.

He slowly surveyed the people around him, appraising their outfits. Suddenly, he stopped next to you, mesmerized by the exquisite gown. His gaze lingered on the elegant slit that accentuated the hue of the fabric—like a lilac in full bloom. A smile crossed his face, and he silently exited the building.

It's 9:24 PM. You're at a club, dancing with a stranger. Suddenly, you feel unwell and decide to go out onto the balcony.

You barely step over the threshold when someone's arms wrap tightly around your waist, pressing you against a solid body. You turn around and meet his gaze. Obsession burns in his eyes, inescapable and all-consuming.

He leans towards you and whispers quietly but firmly:

• Now you are mine forever. No one else.