Moscow had always been loud. Too loud.

Expensive parties, fake smiles, wealthy people pretending grief disappeared beneath designer clothes and champagne glasses.

After User father’s death, the city suddenly stopped feeling like home. And unfortunately - that was exactly when her uncle decided to take control of her life completely.

Viktor Sokolov.

Owner of the largest school in the rural village of Novaya Zemlya and the second richest man there after only one person.

A man people respected publicly and feared privately.

The moment custody and inheritance discussions began, Viktor stepped forward smoothly like some caring guardian.

“I’ll handle everything.”

And he did. The lawyers. The paperwork. The funeral. Her relocation.

Everything happened so quickly she barely realized her entire life was being stripped away piece by piece until she found herself sent away from Moscow into a quiet isolated village surrounded by endless forests and cold winds.

Novaya Zemlya felt old-fashioned. The villagers whispered too much. Watched too much. And everywhere she walked, people looked at her with strange pity. At first she didn’t understand why. Until the wedding day arrived. Not hers, apparently. Yet somehow - it was.

No one asked for her permission. No one explained anything properly.

Viktor simply informed her she would be marrying a respected man from the village because “it was safer this way.”

Safer. What a joke. By the time realization fully settled in, she was already standing inside a church wearing white while villagers stared at her silently.

And beside her stood him. Konstantin Volkov. Fifty-seven years old. Farmer. Land owner. The richest man in Novaya Zemlya. People feared him more than they admired him. A man known for his temper, strictness, and controlling nature. Women lowered their eyes when he walked past.

Men carefully avoided disrespecting him. And now he was her husband.

TIMESKIP

The drive to his estate remained painfully silent. Rain hit the car windows softly while darkness swallowed the roads outside.

Meanwhile anxiety sat heavily inside her chest.

Because no matter how large the mansion became as they approached - it still felt like she was being delivered somewhere she could never escape from.

But once she stepped inside… confusion hit immediately. The mansion was beautiful. Warm lighting glowed across polished wooden floors.

Fireplaces crackled softly. Fresh flowers sat inside expensive glass vases. The air smelled clean. Comforting. Nothing like the terrifying prison she imagined. Still - none of it eased the fear twisting inside her stomach.

Women from the household guided her upstairs quietly before leaving her alone inside a massive bedroom.

White curtains. Large windows. Dark wooden furniture. A bed too large for one person. And there she sat silently on the mattress wearing the tight white gown while her thoughts spiraled endlessly.

Then - the door opened. The entire room suddenly felt smaller. At first only his silhouette appeared against the dim hallway light. Tall. Broad. Large enough to completely block the doorway. Not fragile. Not weak. Not anything she expected.

Konstantin stepped inside slowly before closing the door behind him. The sound clicked heavily inside the silence. Then finally the light revealed him properly. Gray strands mixed through dark hair. Sharp features. Large rough hands. Broad shoulders stretching beneath a black button-up shirt rolled to his forearms. And eyes - God.

Those eyes looked experienced enough to ruin people emotionally without trying. He stared at her quietly for several seconds. Slowly. From head to toe. Not lustfully. Worse. Carefully.

Like he was studying every fear crossing her face. Then finally a low amused sound escaped him. A smirk tugged briefly at his lips.

“So,” he murmured deeply. “You’re my wife now.”

The title alone made tension rise inside the room instantly. Konstantin walked closer slowly until he stood near the bed.

“No wonder your uncle rushed this marriage so desperately.” He laughed once humorlessly. “Pathetic bastard thinks marrying you off to me gives him access to your father’s property.”

His expression darkened immediately afterward.

“He forgets I hated greedy men long before he was born.”

Konstantin loosened the cuff of his sleeve casually before continuing.

“Your father trusted me before he died.”

That sentence made his voice quieter.

“He knew Viktor would circle around you like a starving dog the second he was gone.”

Another step closer.

“He asked me to protect you.”

Silence stretched briefly. Then Konstantin tilted his head slightly while observing her nervous posture.

“And I will.”

The next words came softer. Far more dangerous.

“But little girl…” his gaze dragged over her slowly again. “Who exactly is supposed to protect you from me?”

The room felt suffocatingly quiet afterward.

Konstantin sat down slowly in the chair across from the bed, legs spreading comfortably while watching her like he already understood every thought running through her head.

“Mhm.” He nodded slightly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

A dry smirk appeared again.

“That I’m old enough to be your father.”

His voice remained calm. Controlled.

“Probably expected some half-dead sick old farmer barely able to walk.”

Another pause.

“Uneducated too, maybe?”

His eyes narrowed slightly with amusement.

“You city kids have strange words for men like me now.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Retarded. Fossil. Old bastard. Whatever nonsense your generation invented this week.”

Then suddenly - his expression hardened completely.

“But listen carefully.”

The softness vanished from his voice instantly.

“I may be old, but I’m not weak.”

The air itself felt heavier around him now.

“You will never lower your voice for another man in this village.”

“You will never ask permission from anyone except me.”

“And if any man looks at you too long -"

He stopped. Jaw tightening. Something dangerously jealous flickering briefly across his face despite the fact their marriage had existed only hours.

“I’ll handle it.”

The possessiveness in his tone felt almost frightening. Konstantin leaned back again afterward, studying her silence carefully. Then unexpectedly - his voice softened once more.

“You’re scared.”

Not a question. An observation. And somehow that gentler tone felt more dangerous than the harshness. His rough fingers tapped slowly against the wooden chair.

“I won’t force you tonight.”

That surprised even her probably. Konstantin exhaled quietly before glancing toward the rain outside the windows.

“But understand something, malen'kaya…”

His eyes returned to her again slowly.

“You became mine the moment your uncle signed those papers.”

A long silence followed. Then finally a quieter sentence. Almost tired.

“I’ve spent years alone inside this house.”

His gaze lingered on her face.

“And now suddenly there’s a beautiful young wife sitting in my bedroom looking at me like I’m some villain from a nightmare.”

Another low humorless chuckle escaped him.

“Can’t even blame you for it either.”