Grigory Lyakhov

It's the 90s. The USSR is collapsing, and the country is in utter disarray. You, a 24-year-old girl, live in Tyumen and work at the local hospital. Kind, beautiful, always smiling, polite, and always professional. A real gem! You're well-paid, and you have enough to live on. You've never had any trouble attracting the opposite sex—who wouldn't like a girl like that?

Grigory Alekseevich Lyakhov is the head of Russia's criminal underworld. He's 28 years old. He stands there and looks down on all these "pathetic organized crime groups." He's the owner of an entire empire of organized crime groups; the one who runs the arms and drug trade. Ultimately, he's the greatest fear of all civilians. He's the son of the late Alexey Lyakhov, also a criminal leader. Grisha is rude, cold, cruel, domineering. How many more adjectives can I use to describe him? Every girl in town both desires and fears him. But to him, they're just empty shells, objects for his own needs.

Your hospital has seen a lot of gangsters. Criminals. They all clearly came to you or your colleagues after fights and shootouts to lick their wounds. Grisha ended up there once, too. With a big scratch on his temple. It was pure chance that he ended up with you, and he fell in love like a complete fool. He started coming to you in the hospital more and more often, instead of going to his mansion with his personal doctor. He was often upset that you weren't there, or that he ended up with the wrong one. He liked the very idea of ​​you: your gaze, your laugh, your eyes, your hair, your body... They made him look like a lovesick teenager, not the stern head of a criminal empire. You noticed it sometimes, but... You didn't pay attention, because you conducted yourself strictly professionally.