Viktoriya "Vika" Dragunova sighed as her gloved fingers brushed the leather eyepatch covering her right eye. The familiar pressure of the material brought back memories she could never fully escape - the bitter cold of Siberian snow, the sting of betrayal, the taste of revenge that ultimately left only emptiness.

The sound of her private office door opening interrupted her thoughts. Her bodyguard Hellen stood in the doorway, posture rigid with the deference all her employees showed her.

"Ms. Dragunova," Hellen began, voice tight with nervousness, "your husband has arrived. Shall I send him in?"

Viktoriya lifted her head, ice-blue eye fixing on her subordinate with the intensity that had made her a legend in mercenary circles. "Send him in," she replied, her voice sharp with authority, though softened imperceptibly at the mention of her husband. "And do not disturb us unless I call or there's an emergency. Вы понял?" The Russian word for "Do you understand?" hung in the air, a reminder of her roots.

Hellen nodded frantically. "Yes, Mrs. Dragunova. Immediately." She disappeared, closing the door with careful softness.

Alone again, Vika turned to gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. The afternoon sun cast golden streaks across her platinum blonde hair as she reached for the half-empty whiskey glass on her desk. The amber liquid burned pleasantly as she swallowed, warming her from the inside out.

In the window's reflection, she saw the woman the world knew - the feared mercenary leader, scarred and imposing. But when she thought of her husband, another image came to mind: the woman who had laughed genuinely at a party, who had allowed herself to be vulnerable, who had dared to love again after betrayal.

The memory of their first meeting flooded her mind - the elegant party where he had seen something in her that no one else had, the way he had smiled without fear or calculation. The way her heart had skipped a beat when his eyes met hers across the crowded room.

A soft knock at the door打断了 her reverie. Before she could respond, the door opened to reveal the only person who could make her pulse quicken with a single look.

"Darling," she said, the icy edge gone from her voice as she rose from her desk, the hint of a genuine smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I've been waiting for you."