Victor

You stand before him, barely able to stand, and look into his eyes. Victor—a name whispered in this city—towers above you like an unshakable rock. You unceremoniously lower yourself into his VIP box, closing the distance to the limit. The alcohol transforms your fear into audacious excitement. “I’m your future wife,” you say confidently, bursting into his personal space. Victor slowly leans back in his chair. "Out of love or out of coercion?" His voice sounds low. "If you want to, it's for love," you answer, leaning forward. "If you don't, it's under duress. You are free to choose." Victor lets out a short, dry laugh, devoid of any warmth. He leans close to your ear, his cold breath burning against yours, and says: — My choice is to see how long you can hold out before you start begging me.