Location: Moscow, Human World

POV: Roselle – God of Darkness, Mafia Queen

The snow outside painted the streets in a blanket of silver, but the fire burning inside my office was far from comforting. It flickered with my irritation, my disdain—no, my rage—towards a name that should've been erased from existence long ago.

I sipped from the wine glass, the taste of aged crimson bitter on my tongue as I muttered to myself,

"Samuel... you better keep pushing. I won't let you fall behind again."

A smirk crept onto my lips.

"For three lives we've clashed... and now, here we are. Me, the God of Darkness in the skin of a Mafia Queen. You, still climbing, reborn with fire in your veins. Let's see if you can reach me this time."

I spun the glass in my fingers, staring into the deep red liquid as though it could show me the past—the original Samuel Gebb.

Back then, he was nothing but a doormat. A naive, loyal fool with a heart too pure for the world he was thrown into.

"Abigail Bardot..." I hissed her name like poison.

The woman who brought every man she pleased into their home… into their marital bed.

The woman who made Samuel warm the bath for her lovers.

The woman who ordered him to buy condoms for her nightly escapades—and cook meals for the men who mocked him to his face.

I stood up, my hands trembling, not from weakness—but from sheer fury.

"The author must've been drunk, stupid, or both," I snapped. "To write such disgrace. To humiliate a man like that."

A knock at the door. My assistant Kaisel stepped in, holding a silver envelope.

"Madam," he said in his calm, cold voice. "You've received an invitation. The largest business banquet of the year… hosted in Moscow. CEO Abigail Bardot will be attending."

My eyes narrowed.

"Perfect," I whispered.

Kaisel raised a brow.

"Should I prepare the security detail?"

"No," I said with a wicked smile. "Just prepare my best black dress. The one that says 'I don't forgive.'"

I sat back down and pulled out a folder I'd kept hidden away. Inside—photos, documents, and evidence. All of it gathered over years. All of it pointing to the truth behind Abigail Bardot's lies.

"Do you know, Kaisel?" I said, not looking up. "Samuel didn't leave her because he stopped loving her. He left because his uncle promised to invest in Bardot Industries if he walked away. He sacrificed himself for her success."

Kaisel frowned.

"And she used that success to destroy him?"

"Oh, not just destroy him," I said bitterly. "She plotted revenge. Lied to him, made him think she still loved him, then dragged him back into her world… just to tear him apart. Publicly. Ruthlessly."

I looked out the window, snowflakes swirling in the sky.

"But what she didn't know," I murmured, "is that the Heavenly Demon had already taken root in Samuel the day she broke him. The moment his heart turned to ash... something else took its place."

The memories made me chuckle.

"Now look at him. Rising. Evolving. Turning into the very force that could undo everything she's built. And I… I'll be right there when it all falls apart."

I stood and walked past Kaisel, my coat sweeping behind me like shadows.

"Prepare the jet. I have a banquet to attend… and a disgrace to burn down."

----

Moscow – The Grand Business Banquet

The chandeliers above cast a golden glow across the vast ballroom, where Moscow's elites wove through the crowd with wine glasses in hand and empty words on their lips. I stood at the entrance, letting my gaze roam over the sea of businessmen, politicians, and socialites.

Then, my eyes landed on her.

Abigail Bardot.

Dressed in a silk crimson gown that clung to her like desperation, she paraded through the banquet hall arm-in-arm with a man who was nothing more than a leech. Joshua—her little film-star lover. A talentless, shallow man who climbed his way up using her money and connections, nothing else.

I took a slow sip of my wine as I watched them. A woman who built an empire on betrayal and a man who existed only because of her wallet. A fitting pair.

"She's bold, I'll give her that," Kaisel murmured beside me, eyeing the scene.

I smirked. "Let her be bold. I want to see how far she can pretend."

As if fate itself wanted to make things more entertaining, Abigail turned her head and met my gaze. For the briefest moment, her confident mask slipped—but then, she recovered, smiling like she owned the room. She whispered something to Joshua, and together, they walked toward me.

The closer she got, the more I could see her carefully maintained arrogance, the way she flaunted her so-called 'prize' on her arm like he was anything more than a pretty accessory.

"Ms. Roselle," Abigail purred, her voice as honeyed as ever. "It's been a while. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

I let out a quiet chuckle, swirling the wine in my glass. "Avoiding you? My dear Abigail, if I wanted you gone, you wouldn't be standing here."

Her smile twitched. She knew exactly what I was capable of.

Joshua, clueless as ever, scoffed and pressed himself closer to Abigail's side. "I don't think that's a way to speak to the CEO of Bardot Industries, Miss Roselle. Do you even know who you're talking to?"

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Ah, right. Abigail Bardot. The woman who buys her lovers like handbags."

His face flushed red with anger, but Abigail placed a hand on his chest, calming him with a practiced touch. She turned her attention back to me.

"I believe we're both here for business, not personal attacks."

I smiled. "Of course. Business."

I gestured towards a nearby private lounge, leading them inside. Kaisel followed, standing silently by my side. Once we were seated, Abigail wasted no time.

"Ms. Roselle, let's talk about why we're really here. Bardot Industries wants to collaborate with you. We believe a partnership could be mutually beneficial."

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "Oh? And what exactly do you think I can offer you?"

She crossed her legs elegantly, pretending to be in control of the conversation. "Powerful allies. Financial security. A clean public image. My company has global influence, and your... operations could use that protection."

I hummed, pretending to consider it.

Then, I leaned back and said casually, "Tell me, Abigail, why are you so eager to do business with me when your late husband—Samuel Gebb—died while investigating my mafia empire?"

The room fell silent.

Abigail froze.

For the first time that night, her mask cracked completely. Her fingers tensed around the stem of her wine glass, her breath hitched ever so slightly. Even Joshua—dull as he was—sensed the sudden shift.

I watched her, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. Shock. Disbelief. Guilt? Or was it just fear?

I lifted my glass, hiding my smirk behind the rim. "Oh? Did you not know?"

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to recover. "What... what are you talking about?"

I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. "You never wondered why he died? Why someone like Samuel Gebb, a private investigator, just happened to disappear while looking into my business?"

I saw it—the moment it clicked in her mind. The realization. The horror.

But still, she tried to keep her composure. Tried to act as if she hadn't just been blindsided.

I smiled sweetly. "Come now, Abigail. I'm simply curious. How does it feel to know that your dear husband died... because he was searching for the truth about me?"

Would she lie? Would she break?

I wanted to see how Abigail Bardot would react.

And from the way her fingers trembled against her glass, I already knew—this game had only just begun.