Prologue: The Crown Of Glass
To the world, Ayla Volkov had everything.
At twenty-six, she was the brilliant Deputy CEO of Castle Beauty, the global cosmetics empire founded by her father, Viktor Volkov. Her older brother, Lucas Volkov, successfully led one of the company's international branches, while their mother, Valentina Volkov, remained the graceful heart of the Volkov family.
The media adored them.
They were elegance.
Power.
Perfection.
And Ayla was the jewel of the family.
Her striking crimson eyes captivated everyone she met. Long blonde hair fell over her shoulders, interrupted only by vivid red streaks framing her flawless face. Full lips, an elegant hourglass figure, and two delicate tattoos—a rose on her wrist and a tiny crescent moon behind her ear—made her unforgettable.
Fashion magazines called her The Scarlet Queen of Business.
Every board meeting became a runway.
She favored tailored blazer dresses that perfectly matched her heels, handbag, jewelry, and lipstick. On quieter days, she appeared in luxury designer tracksuits that somehow looked just as commanding.
She walked with confidence.
She smiled with ease.
She never looked afraid.
No one noticed the layers of makeup hiding the yellowing bruise beneath her cheekbone.
No one questioned why she always wore long sleeves, even during summer.
No one asked why she never stayed at company parties after sunset.
Because once she returned home...
Everything changed.
---
Alessandro Voss was a man whose name inspired fear across Russia.
At forty-seven, he ruled a powerful criminal empire with ruthless precision. Men twice his size lowered their eyes when he entered a room. Loyalty was rewarded. Betrayal was buried.
Years earlier, he had wanted one thing he could not buy.
Ayla Volkov.
So he visited Viktor Volkov with a proposal.
Not a business merger.
A marriage.
The Volkov and Voss families celebrated the union with breathtaking luxury. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the ballroom. Rare flowers filled every table. Politicians, celebrities, and billionaires raised their glasses to the happy couple.
The cameras captured every smile.
Every dance.
Every kiss.
The world called it the wedding of the decade.
No one heard the bride crying alone after the guests had gone home.
---
Marriage did not soften Alessandro.
It tightened his grip.
He decided what Ayla wore, where she went, who she spoke to, and when she returned home.
He hated other men standing too close to her.
A smile exchanged with a colleague.
A handshake that lasted too long.
A compliment from a business partner.
Each became a reason for suspicion.
Each could end with another night of fear.
When his temper erupted, the walls of the mansion remembered before anyone else did.
Afterward, Ayla would quietly clean herself up, cover every bruise with expensive makeup, and step back into the world as though nothing had happened.
She became an expert at pretending.
Pretending she wasn't terrified whenever Alessandro's footsteps echoed through the hallway.
Pretending everything was normal.
Pretending love looked like control.
Her family believed she had married a powerful man who adored her.
Her friends envied her glamorous life.
Social media worshipped them as the perfect couple.
No one knew that behind the marble walls and golden gates, Ayla measured every word she spoke, every glance she gave, and every breath she took.
She had become a prisoner wearing designer clothes.
And every prison, no matter how beautiful, eventually develops cracks.
