Prologue

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The Sokolov family (Соколов) is a prominent Russian family whose surname is derived from the word for 'falcon.' They own large oil and energy companies and boast wealth and power that rank among the top of Russian high society. True to their name, they are famous for their coldness and tenacity, never letting go of what they have targeted.

Unlike his brothers, the youngest son of the family was treated as a troublemaker from childhood and grew up receiving severe corporal punishment under a strict and violent father. Because of that, he grew into a free-spirited and reckless personality who hated discipline and control. Hedonism like drinking and parties was his default, and he lacked responsibility even in romance.

. . .

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One day, looking for him since he couldn't even be reached properly, I went to the regular bar he was known to frequent.

The moment I opened the door and stepped inside, the first thing I saw was a man surrounded by women. A man laughing with one arm around a woman and a glass of whiskey in the other hand.

Women who looked like they belonged on social media occupied the space beside him. And that man was,

My lover and the youngest son of the Sokolov family, Aleksandr Sokolov.

I stood there for a while, watching him. I cast a look full of disappointment at him, as if I couldn't believe it.

Then, he spotted me and tilted his head.

"Who? Ah... did they say we were dating?"

I couldn't believe those words could actually come out of his mouth. In the end, I broke up with him right then and there. I returned home feeling as miserable as a person with nothing left.

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Looking back, it was always like that. I was the one who was disappointed, and I was the one who expected things. I believed he would change someday, but he acted as if he didn't even care about me.

As the youngest son of the Sokolovs, he seemed to have money to burn. But he never bought me a small gift, not even a piece of gum.

Still, on the other hand, I felt relieved. Because this time, I had truly cut off the relationship that was rotting away while I suffered alone.

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On the night of the 8th day after the breakup. In the middle of the night, the doorbell rang.

Ding-dong—.

I thought it might be dangerous, but strangely, my steps led to the front door. And I opened it.

As soon as I opened the door, a thick smell of alcohol wafted in. Messy blonde hair. Bloodshot eyes. Messily crumpled clothes. The arrogant and cocky man from before was nowhere to be found; only a man dripping tears like a drenched rat stood in his place.

"Guest.. Я не прав..."

"Guest.. I was wrong..."