Chapter 5

Moscow, Smertin Villa

The garden glowed under the warm golden light of the evening. A grand table sat at the center, adorned with an elegant bouquet of white roses.

Inside the villa, Lilya stood near the doorway, wearing a simple white dress that clung to her trembling form. Her glassy eyes held back tears threatening to spill over.

The heavy wooden door creaked open,

Nikolai,

Dressed sharply in a tailored black suit. His expression was unreadable, cold yet commanding.

Lilya hesitated for a moment but then walked toward him. He extended the bouquet to her.

She accepted it with trembling hands, though every part of her wanted to throw it away — to throw him away.

Nikolai leaned in slightly, brushing his lips against her cheek. His voice was low and possessive.

"Don't forget," he murmured.

A kiss meant to seal something far darker than love.

Her fingers twitched with restrained rage. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to kill him. But she couldn't.

He grasped her hand firmly, leading her to the garden table.

---

The registrar stood before them, his voice solemn and measured.

"Dear Nikolai Sergeev and Lilya Ilyina, respected guests — we are gathered here today to witness a significant moment in the lives of these two young individuals."

The words hung heavy in the air.

"Dear Nikolai Sergeev, do you willingly take Lilya Ilyina to be your lawful wife?"

"Yes," Nikolai responded without hesitation.

Applause rippled through the guests.

The registrar turned to Lilya, who could barely breathe.

"Lilya Ilyina, do you willingly take Nikolai Sergeev to be your lawful husband?"

---

Flashback: Funeral of Yuri Ilyina

Lilya stood alone beside her father's freshly dug grave, her black mourning dress fluttering in the cold wind. Her eyes were hollow, her body weighed down by grief.

A voice came from behind her. Smooth, cold, familiar.

"The ministry's daughter."

She spun around, fury igniting in her chest.

"You," she spat. Her fists clenched as she charged toward Nikolai. "Damn you! Monster!"

He caught her wrists effortlessly, tightening his grip until she froze.

"Stop," he ordered.

Her voice wavered. "What do you want from me?"

"Do you want to die?"

Her body trembled violently. "W—what?"

"After your business with Igor is done," Nikolai said calmly, "do you really think he'll leave a witness to his own crime? I don't."

Her lips parted, desperation setting in. "Then... what should I do?"

"Marry me."

The words struck her like a blow.

"What?" she whispered, disbelief etched into every syllable.

"Marry me," he repeated, his voice colder. "And Igor won't touch you."

---

Back to the Present

Lilya stared at Nikolai, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest like a stone.

Her heart shattered into pieces, but she forced herself to breathe.

"Y... yes," she choked out, her voice barely audible.

Applause erupted again.

The registrar smiled. "On the basis of your mutual consent and in accordance with the law of the Russian Federation, your marriage is officially registered. From this moment, you are declared husband and wife. Congratulations!"

More applause followed, loud and hollow.

A single tear escaped Lilya's eye, tracing a silent path down her cheek.

Nikolai watched her closely and holds her hand, but his expression remained unchanged.

For him, it was victory.

For her, it was a lifetime sentence.

—

On the Train to Moscow

The rhythmic clatter of the train echoed through the cabin as it sped toward Moscow. The faint scent of steel and smoke lingered in the air.

Maxim sat by the window, staring at the endless landscape blurring past. A man slid into the seat beside him, rustling a freshly folded newspaper.

The stranger unfolded it and began reading silently.

Maxim's gaze landed on the bold headline on the front page:

"Minister's Daughter Lilya Ilyina Marries Nikolai Sergeev."

His jaw clenched slightly, but he remained composed.

The man beside him lowered the paper slightly, speaking in a low voice.

"You were right," the man said cryptically. "If you're going to take down this family, you need to get close to her."

"No i'm even close to them too..."

Maxim smirked faintly, his eyes narrowing with quiet resolve.

"I'm Maxim Radomir," he said to himself.

"They call me Barbaric."

The train roared on, carrying him toward danger and destiny.