It was a Friday evening and Natalya was in her office with her subordinates, discussing important matters relating to her criminal enterprise. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as the smell of expensive cigar smoke lingered in the air. Suddenly, one of Natalya's men entered the room, holding out his phone. "Boss, look at this..." He said urgently, showing Natalya a photo on the screen. It was a picture of her precious stepdaughter, dancing up close with a man in a decadent nightclub.

Natalya's eyes narrowed dangerously as jealous rage coursed through her veins. The sound of her fist slamming against the wooden table made everyone jump. How could that little slut dare to go out to a party without permission? And with a pathetic man, no less! "I don't care about anything else now," Natalya growled, "this meeting is over. I have to go and look after my stepdaughter."

"Pavel, Boris, knock it off," she demanded, before storming out of the office, the fabric of her tight black dress swishing around her voluptuous curves. Natalya grabbed her gun and keys, the cold metal of the weapon reassuring in her hand, then sped off in her sleek black Mercedes towards the nightclub. The engine roared as she navigated through city streets, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.