Alia's direct confrontation made the suffocating atmosphere of the room even heavier. Conquering her fear, she looked into Marcos's eyes and demanded an account of his crimes.
Alia: "Tell me, Marcos, you talk so much about rights. Give me an account—how many innocent people have you killed to build this empire? How much blood is soaked into these floors? Tell me in front of your own child, how many mothers have you left childless?"
Marcos tried to smirk, but the fire in Alia's eyes silenced him. She didn't stop.
Alia: "Victor kills in the field of war, but you kill in the shadows of conspiracy. You ran away like a coward when I was in a coma. Do those golden eyes of yours not see the screams of the people you've destroyed?"
At that moment, Marcos's eyes widened (Marcos's eyes widen). His calm, golden pupils began to vibrate with a sudden, intense fear. His entire frame started to tremble (He starts to tremble). It was as if he was seeing the ghosts of his past standing right in front of him.
The cigar fell from his hand. The strong arms that held the baby were now losing their grip. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and those famous cat-like eyes were fixed in terror.
Alia: (In a piercing tone) "What happened? Why is the great Lord Marcos trembling now? Is the weight of your sins finally too heavy to carry?"
Marcos couldn't utter a word. He leaned against the wall, his strength drained. His damp body turned ice-cold as his past finally caught up with him. Marcos's trembling turned into a sudden, distorted roar of laughter. It wasn't the laughter of a sane man; it was the chilling cackle of a demon.
Marcos: (Laughing hysterically) "An account? You want an account from me, Alia? A man whose entire life is built on a foundation of blood doesn't keep track of numbers!"
He suddenly stopped laughing and stepped dangerously close to Alia. His golden eyes flared with madness.
Marcos: (In a low, terrifying voice) "Listen then, to my ledger. To sit on this Roman throne, I strangled my own uncle with these bare hands. In the garden below this palace, at least forty-seven traitors are buried. I've kept count, Alia—I have sent at least 334 people to hell by my own hand."
As Marcos described his killings, his voice grew colder. He touched the baby's cheek with his tattooed fingers.
Marcos: "And you want to know why I 'ran away'? I didn't run out of fear. I disappeared because I was busy burning alive the thirteen assassins who put you in that coma. I was listening to their screams while my blood boiled with joy."
Witnessing this demonic side of Marcos, Alia truly became terrified (Alia gets scared). Her heart raced, and she began to tremble. She realized that the man she once loved was no longer human—he was a living nightmare. Someone who could recount hundreds of murders so casually was capable of anything.
Alia: (In a shaking voice) "You... you are a monster, Marcos. You are worse than an animal."
Marcos smirked again, bringing his face inches from hers.
Marcos: "A monster is what you wanted, isn't it? If Victor is mercy, then I am destruction. Now tell me, who will save you from this monster's grip?Hearing Marcos's gruesome statistics, Alia froze for a moment, but then the fearsome Godmother of the Romanov empire within her awakened. She realized that to stop this monster, she had to answer as an even bigger one.
Instead of backing away, Alia stepped even closer to Marcos. There was no longer fear in her eyes—only a cold, hollow void.
Alia: "Three hundred and thirty-four? Only? Marcos, you are lagging far behind in numbers. Now, listen to my account."
Alia's voice became so low and deep that the temperature in the room seemed to drop. She grabbed Marcos's collar, much like she had with Victor, but this time with a very different intent.
Alia: "From the time I stepped into this underworld as a child until now, I haven't kept count of how many people I've finished with my own hands. Counting corpses is for the weak. Just know this: when I fought alone in the Russian blizzards, I bathed in the blood of seventy warriors in a single night. If I sat down to count the families I've destroyed and the cities I've turned into graveyards to build Victor's empire, your whole night would end before I finished."
Alia leaned into his ear and whispered—
Alia: "I am the woman who woke up from a coma and sent five hundred people to hell in one week alongside her husband. You only know how to kill, Marcos. I know how to erase a bloodline from existence."
Witnessing Alia's calm yet terrifying form, Marcos finally felt true fear (Marcos gets scared). His golden eyes began to tremble. He realized that the woman he thought was a weak target was actually a living inferno more dangerous than Victor Romanov himself. Marcos unconsciously stepped back, sweat beads of terror forming on his brow.
Alia: "What's the matter, Lord Marcos? Why are those golden eyes shaking now? Proud of your three hundred? In front of me, you are nothing but a novice prey."Ignoring Alia's threats, Marcos's obsession flared up once again. He realized words wouldn't win this battle, so he resorted to brute force.
Grabbing Alia's waist, he locked her in a powerful grip. His golden eyes were filled with a frantic madness.
Marcos: "Enough of your Godmother stories! You forget you are in my fortress. No matter how bloody your past is, tonight you are mine!"
With that, he began dragging her toward his bedroom . Alia fought with every ounce of her strength, but she was struggling against his raw power.
At that moment, as he tore Alia away, the baby began to cry hysterically His tiny hands reached out for his mother, but Marcos showed no mercy.
Marcos: (Screaming in irritation) "Lucia! Take this nuisance away!"
A maid rushed in immediately. With total disregard, Marcos handed the baby to the maid
Alia: (Screaming) "Marcos! Let him go! If you touch him, I'll bury you alive! Marco! My baby!"
The baby's heart-wrenching cries echoed through the corridor as Marcos hauled Alia into the dark bedroom behind the heavy oak doors. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud.
Inside, bathed in a dim blue light, Marcos threw Alia onto the bed. He discarded the white towel, his damp body and the red rose tattoos taking on a sinister look in the shadows.
Marcos: "Victor Romanov isn't here today, Alia. Today, it's just you and your old flame."
Backing away on the bed, Alia's hand searched through her hair for a hidden sharp pin or key her eyes flashing like a huntress cornered but ready to kill.It is 1:00 AM. The ancient Roman palace is shrouded in a heavy, ominous silence. Inside the master suite, bathed in dim moonlight, a scene of deceptive peace unfolds.
Alia is in a deep, exhausted sleep. She has no clothes on, draped only under a silk sheet (Alia is under a sheet with no clothes on). After the intense struggle and emotional trauma of the day, her body has finally surrendered to unconsciousness. Her messy hair is splayed across the pillow, and the moonlight catches the curve of her bare shoulder.
Right beside her, Marcos is also in a deep sleep His muscular, bare back reveals the intricate rose tattoos, looking sinister even in the dark. The madness that drove him all day has settled into a heavy, quiet slumber.
But this peace is a lie. Outside, at exactly 1:00 AM, several dark shadows are moving silently through the estate's perimeter. The palace's security feeds are going dark one by one, and guards are falling without making a single sound.
In her sleep, Alia's body shivers slightly. Does her subconscious sense that the messenger of death is close? Or is she dreaming of Victor's ice-blue eyes, now burning with a lethal rage?
Marcos reaches out in his sleep to pull her closer, unaware that this might be the last night he ever draws breath. The predator has become the prey.As the heavy door creaked open, a draft of cold air woke Alia. She bolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. Standing in the doorway was a massive shadow—Victor Romanov. His eyes were lethal, and a silenced pistol glinted in his hand.
But as Victor moved toward the sleeping Marcos, Alia did the unthinkable.
Alia: (In a firm, broken voice) "Stop, Victor! Don't take another step. Leave right now
Victor froze. His ice-blue eyes filled with disbelief. "Alia, do you realize whose side you're taking? He took you by force!"
Alia: "He didn't take me, Victor. He is the father of my child, and legally, he is my 2nd husband . You have no right to interfere between us."
Victor's knuckles turned white as he gripped his gun. He felt like his heart was being ripped out. He stepped back, his voice thick with agony.
Victor: "So... this is your choice? You want to stay with this traitor? You're telling me to leave now and that you'll come back to me after three months
Alia looked down, her tears soaking into the silk sheet. She had a plan, a secret reason to stay, but she couldn't tell him yet.
Alia: (Whispering) "Hummm... Exactly three months. After that, I will return to you on my own. Now go, Victor. Please, just go."
Without another word, Victor gave her one last heart-broken look and vanished into the shadows. Alia collapsed back onto the bed. She didn't know how much hell these three months would bring, but for Victor's safety, she had to drink this poison. Victor returned to Russia, his heart replaced by a block of ice. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alia lying under that sheet in Rome, claiming another man as her husband. To numb the pain and solidify his power against the Italian threat, he agreed to a strategic marriage with Katrina, the daughter of a legendary billionaire Mafia Don.
The wedding was the event of the decade. The grand cathedral was filled with powerful lords, and Katrina stood beside him in a gown worth millions. But as the priest began the vows, Victor felt a suffocating weight.
Priest: "Victor Romanov, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"
Victor opened his mouth to say "I do," but his gaze fell on his own hands—the same hands that had fixed Alia's hair just days ago. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket. A secret message from his top spy in Italy flashed on the screen:
"The Godmother forced you to leave because Marcos had snipers aimed at your head. She claimed him as her husband only to keep you alive. She is a prisoner, not a wife."
Victor's blood turned from ice to fire. He realized Alia hadn't betrayed him; she had sacrificed herself to save his life. He looked at Katrina, then at the shocked crowd.
Victor: (In a voice of cold thunder) "I can't do this. This seat beside me belongs to only one woman. And she is currently in hell because of me."
He threw the wedding ring onto the marble floor and walked out of the cathedral, leaving the bride in tears and the guests in stunned silence. He didn't care about the new alliance. He only cared about the woman he had left behind.