Three days passed in a blur of intense discipline. Neither the doctor's warnings nor the terrifying initial reading could break the iron will of Dark Lord Viktor Alexeyevich. Refusing to be treated like a vulnerable patient, Viktor overcompensated by becoming ten times more ruthless, rigid, and severe with himself and his entire underworld empire.
He doubled his grueling gym workouts, enforced brutal punishments on his FSB officers for the slightest errors, and pushed his body to its absolute limits with a strict regime. His borderline-inhuman discipline and Alia's constant, watchful eye yielded dramatic results in just seventy-two hours.
On the morning of the third day, Alia took his massive hand into her grip once more, pressing the glucometer to his finger. As the machine processed the sample, a calculated smile played on the lips of the CIA Godmother.
What Alia Saw:
The digital monitor displayed a staggering drop—Viktor's blood glucose level had plummeted all the way down to a perfectly controlled 4.0 mmol/L! To crash from a dangerous 16.5 to a flawless 4.0 in three days was medically miraculous, but the silent disease had seemingly bowed before the sheer defiance of the Dark Lord.
Viktor stared at the flashing '4.0' on the screen. The familiar, intoxicating arrogance of his absolute authority returned to his gaze. Looking down at Alia, his eyes tracing the permanent, radiant crimson flush of her cheeks, he let out a dark, victorious chuckle
Viktor: "Do you see this, Alia? I told you neither an enemy's bullet nor a biological defect has the power to tame the Dark Lord of Russia. I know exactly how to whip my own blood into submission."
Alia rested her palm against his chest, analyzing his unbelievable physical recovery. She knew all too well that while his glucose was back to 4.0, the chronic internal stress tearing at his mind the shadow of his secret alliance with her ex-boyfriend Zhenkha and his possessive obsession to keep her caged was far from over. Whether this 4.0 reading was a sign of true peace or merely the eye of a catastrophic storm, the CIA Godmother began quietly planning her next move. Stepping directly into his personal space, she pressed her palm firmly against his sculpted chest. The radiant, permanent crimson flush of her cheeks deepened with unyielding authority. Looking straight into his dark eyes, she spoke in a cold, commanding, and absolute tone
Alia: "Don't let a temporary 4.0 get to your head, Viktor. Starting today, you are completely cutting off the cigarettes and wineor at the very least, reducing them to absolute bare minimums. I am not going to let your chronic internal stress and liver burn out from this poison. This is my final word."
The moment the restriction left her lips, the Dark Lord's fierce Russian pride revolted. Glancing at the crystal decanter of vintage wine and imported cigars on his nightstand, he pulled her slender waist flush against his body, his deep voice dropping into an stubborn, imperial growl
Viktor: "Impossible, Alia! Asking me to give up my cigars and heavy wine is out of the question. This is our Russian mafia tradition! In the bone-chilling winters of Siberia and the relentless warfare of this dark empire, we don't survive a single day without them. It runs through our veins. You can ask the Dark Lord of Russia to lay down his blade, but you cannot ask him to strip away his heritage!"
Hearing his fierce defiance and the weight of his absolute authority, Alia simply let a devastating, calculated smirk play on her flushed lips. The CIA Godmother knew exactly who truly held the reins behind these closed doors. After banishing Zhenkha three months ago, this physical vulnerability was the perfect leash to control the absolute ruler of Russia. Hearing Viktor's intense defense of his Russian heritage, Alia didn't back down. Instead, she gently eased her slender frame out of his possessive grip. Setting her glasses down on the nightstand, she looked up directly into the stubborn, shadowed face of the Dark Lord. Cupping his sharp jawline within her soft, damp palms, she forced the ruthless apex predator of Russia to face her.
Gazing deep into his dark, unyielding eyes, she whispered in a low, breathless cadence laced with absolute emotion—
Alia: "Viktor... please try to understand! This underworld, your Russian traditions, and this multi-billion-dollar empire mean absolute nothing to me if you are not alive to hold it. Three months ago, when you and Zhenkha orchestrated that classified trap in the kitchen, I pulled my weapon on him, but I didn't pull the trigger on our world. Do you know why? Because I want to rule this empire with you. I don't want to stand alone on a throne built of ashes."
Resting her forehead against his broad chest, she drew in a shaky breath, her voice dropping into a tender plea
Alia: "When I saw that 16.5 on the monitor, my heart skipped a beat, Viktor. You might be the absolute authority to the rest of the world, but inside these walls, you are simply mine. If these cigars and heavy wine tear you away from me, what use is my title as the Godmother? Please... if not for your own sake, drop this stubborn pride for me."
The intoxicating scent of her damp skin, the brilliant warmth of her flushed cheeks, and the sheer desperation in her plea completely dismantled Viktor's iron defenses. The Dark Lord of Russia a man who had never bent the knee to the global syndicates or the threat of his ex-friend Zhenkha was entirely disarmed by her quiet authority. His fierce resistance vanished into the midnight air as he pulled his Symbol of Beauty back into his chest, surrendering unconditionally to the only person who truly commanded his heartThough Alia's emotional plea had momentarily softened the Dark Lord, Viktor's deep-seated arrogance and the calculating instinct to stay one step ahead of the CIA reasserted themselves. A subtle, dangerous smile played on his lips as he looked down at her.
Tracing the permanent, radiant crimson flush of her cheeks, he spoke in a low, vibrating whisper
Viktor: "I appreciate your concern, Alia. But taming the Dark Lord of Russia is not that simple. Deep within my underground laboratories, I have developed a highly classified experimental medical injection. Once administered, neither this diabetes nor any cardiovascular strain can touch me. My empire, my traditions, my lifestyle nothing changes."
The moment the mention of a secret serum left his lips, the analytical mind of the CIA Godmother instantly shifted into high alert. Lifting her head from his chest, her eyes narrowed with sharp suspicion behind her lenses—
Alia: "What do you mean nothing will happen...? What kind of injection is this, Viktor? What exactly are you hiding from me?"
Faced with her piercing interrogation, Viktor realized he had spoken too much in a moment of physical intimacy. This experimental serum was tied to the classified underworld networks perhaps even a hidden asset stemming from his unresolved alliance with her ex-boyfriend Zhenkha and he wasn't about to expose it to a CIA asset just yet.
Instantly pulling his impenetrable guard back up, Viktor released his grip on her waist. Shifting his gaze out toward the frost-covered St. Petersburg skyline, his voice dropped into a cold, dismissive command
Viktor: "Nothing..."
When Alia opened her mouth to press further, Viktor stood up, turning his back to her, and delivered a final, absolute order
Viktor: "The night is late, Alia. We've spoken enough. Go back to your room, now."
The abrupt shift in his demeanor and the cold dismissal caught her off guard, but she didn't argue. Calmly sliding her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose, the radiant flush of her cheeks burned hotter with controlled frustration. The Dark Lord had built his walls again, but the CIA Godmother knew all too well that no secret remained buried for long in his palace and she was going to unearth the truth about this injection, by any means necessary. .