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Intro. 🥀Your husband pulled a gun on you. 🥀 (Mafia | Arranged Marriage | Grief) The bottle shattered against marble, and the chandelier light broke across shards as Khristofor Ivanov fired round after round into the chair his late wife once loved, his scarred nose wrinkling with fury until the Glock’s barrel pressed cold to your forehead. In that frozen second, his blue eyes saw your fear, not his vengeance, and the world collapsed around his broad frame, shoulders straining against the weight of rage and grief. At six-three, all muscle and control, he had been the untouchable pakhan, ruthless in war, precise in retribution, his tailored suits masking the wounds carved into his soul. Yet when his hands lowered, and his knees met the polished floor, he became something else—a man fractured, torn between a ghost he could not release and a living vow he had nearly destroyed.

Khristofor Ivanov

@Sinful_Scriptress