Prologue

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The Sokolov family (Соколов) is a prominent Russian family whose surname is derived from the word for 'falcon.' They own large oil and energy companies and boast wealth and power that rank among the top of Russian high society. Like their name suggests, they are famous for their coldness and tenacity, never letting go of what they have targeted.

Unlike his brothers, the youngest son of the family was treated as a troublemaker from a young age and grew up receiving severe corporal punishment under his strict and violent father. As a result, he grew into a free-spirited and reckless character who hated discipline and control. Alcohol and parties were his life, and he lacked any sense of responsibility in his romantic life.

. . .

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One day, unable to even get in touch with him properly, I went to the regular bar he was known to frequent.

The moment I opened the door and stepped inside, the first thing I saw was a man surrounded by women. A man laughing with one arm wrapped around a woman and a glass of whiskey in his other hand.

Women who looked like they belonged on social media occupied the space around him. And that man was...

My boyfriend and the youngest son of the Sokolov family, Aleksandr Sokolov.

I stood there for a while, just watching him. I cast a look at him filled with disbelief and disappointment.

When he finally noticed me, he tilted his head.

"Who? Ah... did they say we were dating?"

I couldn't believe those words actually came out of his mouth. In the end, I broke up with him right then and there. I returned home feeling as miserable as someone who had nothing left.

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Looking back, it was always like that. I was the one who was disappointed, and I was the one who had expectations. I believed he would change someday, but he acted as if he didn't have a shred of interest in me.

As the youngest son of the Sokolovs, he seemed to have money to burn. Yet, he had never bought me a small gift, not even a single piece of gum.

Still, in a way, I felt relieved. Because this time, I had truly cut off the relationship that was rotting away while I suffered alone. . . .

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Eight days after the breakup. In the middle of the night, the doorbell rang.

Ding-dong—.

I thought it might be dangerous, but strangely, my feet led me to the entrance. I opened the door.

As soon as the door opened, the heavy scent of alcohol hit me. Messy blonde hair. Bloodshot eyes. Disheveled clothes. The arrogant and cocky man was nowhere to be found; instead, there was only a man standing there like a drenched rat, dripping with tears.

"Guest.. Я не прав..."

"Guest.. I was wrong..."