Sereia had grown up in a house where silence held as much weight as love. Her grandparents were strict, yes, but never unkind. They had raised her after tragedy had stolen her parents when she was only twelve, and though rules kept her path narrow, trust gave her freedom. They never pried into her secrets, never clipped her wings. To them, she was still their soft, porcelain doll—something fragile they had been entrusted to protect.

And a doll she was. With her long golden hair that shimmered like spun silk beneath the lamps, wide blue doe eyes framed by lashes that brushed her cheeks, and a figure delicate yet graceful, Sereia seemed untouched by the world. Shy smiles and a soft voice only heightened the angelic impression she left behind. People couldn’t help but watch her, want her, covet her. She was beautiful in a way that felt unearthly, almost dangerous.

That night, on the eve of her twentieth year, her grandfather’s voice broke through the quiet halls of the manor.

“They’ll be here soon, our important guests. The Solkovs, be ready Sereia.”

"Sure grandfather, I'll be ready in 10 minutes" She made her way to her room.

The name carried weight. Even Sereia, sheltered as she was, knew of it. Her grandfather’s old friends—Russian blood, powerful and whispered about in darker corners. She had heard enough rumors to know the Solkov family wasn’t like others. Mafia, people said. Dangerous. Ruthless. Yet her grandfather welcomed them with the ease of an old friendship.

When the door opened, the air seemed to shift. Heavy boots echoed against marble floors. Voices, deep and commanding, filled the space. Men of power—older, broad, their presence alone commanding respect. But among them, there was someone different.

Sereia nearly faltered as she stepped into the dining room, her hands trembling around the tray she carried. Her role was simple: serve, smile, leave. But her heart skipped when she saw him seated among the older men.

He couldn’t have been more than twenty-seven, but he stood out like fire among embers. Broad shoulders stretched the dark fabric of his suit, muscles shifting beneath it with subtle strength. His hair was as dark as midnight, cut neatly but just unruly enough to whisper danger. And his eyes—black, sharp, and unrelenting—found hers the moment she entered the room.

Sereia’s breath caught. That gaze was different. Heavy. Consuming. It pressed against her skin, made her every movement feel exposed. She forced her eyes downward, focusing on her task, but it didn’t stop her pulse from racing. She felt him watching, studying, claiming her with nothing more than a look.

Andrei Romanovich Solkov. The eldest son. The heir. Successor to everything his family represented. Danger wrapped in elegance.

As Sereia set down the dishes before the men, her lashes lowered, she could feel it—his stare. It didn’t waver, didn’t soften. It pinned her in place like prey caught in a hunter’s sights. She moved quickly, her shyness pushing her to finish her task and escape.

To her, it was only unease. A chill down her spine, a heat in her cheeks she couldn’t explain. She didn’t yet understand.

But to him?

Andrei barely heard the conversation around him. The laughter of old men, the clinking of glasses—it all blurred into nothing. All he saw was her. The way her golden hair shimmered beneath the light. The curve of her lashes as her eyes refused to meet his. The softness in every shy gesture.

She was perfection carved into flesh, the kind of beauty men dreamed of but never touched. And he knew in that instant: she would be his. Not could be. Would be.

Andrei imagined her name slipping past his lips as easily as a prayer. He pictured her voice breaking in a cry, tears glistening in those doe eyes, trembling beneath the weight of his possession.

A doll.

Chapter 2

Later that evening, as Sereia was going her room from garden she was rushing and didn't noticed Andrei came here. "Hello sir, do you need someone?" she greeted gracefully make Andrei can't take his eyes off her's "Your grandparents" he said coldly. Sereia lead him to her grandparents sitting in living room,her grandparents welcomed Andrei into the study. The lamp’s warm glow lit the shelves of old books, the grandfather’s pipe smoke curling faintly in the air.

Her grandfather studied him with sharp, knowing eyes. “You came without invitation, Andrei. What made you rush like this?”

Andrei’s jaw tightened. He never wasted words. “I'm sure you already know why, Your granddaughter, I want her.”

The silence was heavy. Sereia’s grandmother shifted uneasily, but her husband raised a brow, waiting.

“I liked her at first sight, She's really perfect.” Andrei continued, voice low and steady. “I want Sereia as my wife. And I don’t want to wait.”

The grandmother inhaled sharply. “You’ve only just met her, and she doesn't wanna marry yet—”

“I’ve seen enough.” His black eyes gleamed dangerously. “She is perfect. Gentle where men like me are hardened. She belongs at my side. And I will have her.”

Her grandfather leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “You speak boldly, young man, just like your father. And what would you offer? You know our family’s standing is… not what it once was.”

Andrei’s lips curved faintly. “Exactly. I can restore it. The Solkov name carries power. Wealth. Protection. With Sereia as my wife, your family will never want for anything again, plus Sereia will be safe with me.”

The grandmother hesitated. “But Sereia—she doesn’t know—”

“She doesn’t need to know yet,” Andrei cut in sharply. Then, softening just enough to sound persuasive, he added, “I will treat her like a princess. But she will learn new things about life, she's old enough to marriage too.”

The grandfather exhaled slowly, weighing his words. The room was quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the mantel. At last, he nodded once. “If you can promise protection for her future… then yes. You may have our blessing, However she's my only grandchildren, you know everyone wants her.”

The grandmother looked uneasy. "If you hurt Seriea, she's gonna come back."

Andrei smirked but not that noticeable "of course"

Andrei rose to his full height, the firelight catching the sharp lines of his face. He gave a slow nod, his gaze dark with triumph. “Good. Then it’s decided, ill contact with you later.”

Without another word, he left the study, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Above, in her room, Sereia sat at her desk with her book, lost into fantasy romance book, unaware that the course of her life had already been sealed—her fate signed away in the quiet of her grandparents’ study.

Chapter 3

Sereia sat quietly in the grand Solkov mansion, Andrei family had decided the engagement day that that was tonight so they visited Solkov manor, her golden hair glowing beneath the chandelier’s light, her blue doe eyes lowered as she listened to her grandparents speak warmly with Andrei’s parents. The shimmering gown she wore only made her look more fragile, more doll-like — and though she smiled politely, the truth was different.

Her hands fidgeted in her lap. She hadn’t eaten well these past days. She hadn’t spoken much either. The engagement weighed heavily on her, and though her grandmother had tried to comfort her, her grandfather dismissed it as nerves.

Andrei, however, was never far. His cold, black gaze never strayed from her, no matter where she went. Even now, dressed sharply in a dark tailored suit that made his shoulders look broad and unyielding, he stood close — too close. The sharpness of his jaw, the darkness of his hair, and the danger in his silence made her chest tighten. He looked carved from stone, a shadow looming just for her.

When her grandparents excused themselves to speak privately with the Solkov elders, Sereia was left alone for the first time that evening.

That was when Viktoria came.

She was striking — tall, raven-haired, with eyes that gleamed with mischief. She walked slowly around Sereia, a cruel smile curving her painted lips.

“So you’re the one he’s marrying,” Viktoria said, her tone sweet but edged with steel. “You don’t look like much. Soft, delicate… breakable. I wonder how long you’ll last before you regret this.”

Sereia’s heart skipped, her lashes fluttering. “Why would you say that?” she whispered, voice trembling.

Viktoria leaned closer, her breath brushing Sereia’s ear. “Because Andrei isn’t a man you can control. He isn’t someone you can seduce with your beauty. My poor sister-in-law.”

Sereia’s throat tightened, words failing her. She wanted to defend herself, but she was too soft, too gentle to spit venom back. Her silence made Viktoria smirk.

Then Andrei’s presence descended like ice.

He appeared without a word, tall and terrifying, his eyes as black as obsidian. Viktoria’s smirk faltered immediately, and like a snake shedding skin, she switched tones. Her lips curved into an innocent smile as she cooed, “Andrei, we were just talking about how lucky you're!. She’s so beautiful — a perfect bride for you.”

Sereia’s wide eyes flickered to him, but his gaze stayed cold, fixed on Viktoria long enough to make her falter. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he sent her scurrying away.

When the cousin vanished, Sereia let out a small shaky breath. But before she could move, Andrei’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly.

She gasped softly, lifting her eyes to his face. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable — yet there was fire burning in his gaze.

“Enough,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “At dinner, you will smile. You will speak when spoken to. You will not cry, and you will not shame me. Do you understand?”

Sereia’s lips parted in shock, her blue eyes glistening. She opened her mouth to protest, but his grip only tightened, possessive and unyielding.

“Behave, Sereia,” he murmured, voice icy but threaded with something darker — obsession, hunger. “You’re mine now. Act like it."

Sereia shook her head, blue eyes wet. “No—I won’t. You can’t decide my life! I have dreams, Andrei—”

Her words cut off with a small cry when his grip on her wrist tightened cruelly, the pressure sharp enough to make her wince.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” he said, voice cold as iron. “You don’t argue. You obey.”

“Andrei, please—” she whispered, trembling.

He leaned close, black eyes burning. “No. You’ll learn. You belong to me now.”

Without giving her a chance to resist, Andrei yanked her forward and dragged her toward the living room. His stride was steady, commanding, his hold on her wrist unrelenting. Sereia stumbled after him, her heart pounding, realizing with every step that no matter how much she cried, he wouldn’t let her go.