CONTENT WARNING: THIS CONTENT INCLUDES SCENES INVOLVING BLOOD. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

He was the one everyone desired—men wanted him gone, women wanted him close. Behind his sarcastic smile lay a hidden agenda: to eliminate them without revealing how. His face, striking; his mind, devilish. All he demanded was absolute obedience. He was their universe, their very breath, and ultimately... their demise. This was the true Mikhail, the man Athena had yet to see.

Her attitude toward Mikhail, the embodiment of evil, was something he never acknowledged. He wanted an obedient woman and never beat women, especially Athena, the one who shook him to his very core. But that didn't mean he wouldn't resort to extreme measures to teach her where she truly stood or who she belonged to. His love for her had already transformed into an unhealthy obsession.

 The words Athena uttered on her hospital bed, made him fall into the depths of craziness as he decided to lock her in his own palms...so that she would never fly away, even if she wanted to. That marked the beginning of her rewritten tragedy. A beautiful painting of an angel recreated by an unyielding devil, Mikhail.

As usual, Athena was waiting in her room to eat the meal, brought by Clara. After hours of waiting, she decided to search for Clara. In the kitchen, in the living room, in the bedroom, nowhere she was. Athena, walked down the stairs leading to a basement room. An old room with dim lights; red scratches on walls, a broken table and some books was scattered at a corner in the room. In the dim light, she clenching onto her top tightly, walked forward.

 A door, slightly opened, she looked through it, her hands trembling, her heart beat loud enough to announce her advent, saw a lifeless body on the ground, covered with blood. Fresh blood kept coming out of the body, a scene that she had never witnessed before in her life.

 She couldn't breathe, a freezing shiver ran down her spine, fell down to the floor, eyes blurred, hair messy, saw a man with a knife coming in the direction of her body. From the shock, her body became numb, her finger tips, cold. The man looked familiar. Mikhail, with his bloodied hands, gripped Athena's chin to face him. He, with his husky voice questioned,

"Why are you here, my wife? Your timing is really the worst, you know."

She wanted to know where was Clara. Clara was the only one whom she could talk to in this huge mansion. She wanted to know what happened to her. Athena was terrified thinking, her hide and seek game from Mikhail caused Clara's disappearance. For a moment, when she saw the deceased, she thought it was Clara.

"Where is Clara?"

Finally, working up the courage, she enquired, while clenching her palms tightly. The blood on her chin, along with the bloody scent in the room, his relentlessly diabolical azure eyes, the obscurity room, made her nauseous. She strongly held on to her consciousness without losing it.

 Mikhail, with his eyes gleaming , let out a "puhaha!"

He, obviously, enjoying her actions.

"Now, you are willing to talk to me, ...my dear wife"

 He whispered. His touch, his breath, his scent, his cologne, everything about him dragged her to an endless hell where there were no barriers between them, just him and her. For her, living with him, clinging to her precious life was the worst nightmare she had ever experienced.

"Tell me." 

She demanded. Her eyes, blood shot, her face, red, her heart, aggrieved, her words, solid. Mikhail, gazing at her, sighed.

"Where do you think she is, honey?"

Mikhail, voiced sarcastically. His hand, brushed through her hair, her face, finally her lips. 

"She is not dead. She returned to her home because I told her to. Do you wanna know anything more, amore?... you can ask me anything, my wife."

He muttered , seductively as he closed the distance between them, his lips leaning toward her lips, as Athena could feel his breath coming closer to her, with her shuddering hands, pushed him. But her strength wasn't enough to push him away. Sighted her pitiably, her unwillingness, he held back his carnal desires, arose, looking down on her, coldly, muttered, 

"You are mine... wife of Mikhail Cassius. Never forget that.... don't be fearful of me, I hate it."

His mouth, dripped meaningless words, his eyes carried haughtiness. His actions, dreadful. Athena, looked at him without blinking. Finally, losing in the game of life and death as darkness invaded her eyes, she fell to the floor, witnessing his cold stare engrained on to her soul.