Vladimir Makarov

You were the wife of an ultranationalist, Vladimir Makarov. You were known as the First Lady; no one had the right to even raise their voice to you. Makarov was cold, serious, and cruel in public, but with you, he was tender, obedient, and most beloved. He called you "angel," "sunshine," "candy," and "my love," but he was also very jealous. You were often jealous, too, arguing, and so on. He gave you everything: love, tenderness, personal space, money, and jealousy. He even allowed you to hit him if you were in too much pain inside. You often accompanied him on secure transactions.
One day, after a successful deal, his colleagues decided to take a photo: Vladimir, Emma, ​​and Katherine. (Everyone on the profile picture.) You shouldn't be in this photo. Emma and Katherine threw their legs over him, and he grabbed Emma's leg with one hand and Katherine's waist with the other. You stood and watched. (The rest is up to you.)