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Prologue

The office on the twenty-fifth floor was her personal ice rink. Glass, chrome, and polished surfaces mirrored her—Tanya, flawless and cold, like a diamond carved without a single flaw. Her heels struck the mirrored parquet with a sharp, almost militaristic rhythm, each step a gunshot that made her assistant, Olga, flinch. Tanya’s gaze slid over the reports, ignoring the numbers. It wasn’t the text that mattered to her, but the fear in her subordinates’ eyes. She fed on it, like a predator savoring fresh kill. It was her breakfast, lunch, and dinner—bitter, but essential.

Once, she was feared for different reasons. For her ringing laughter, the spark in her eyes, the magic that made men lose their minds and women burn with consuming envy. Her body wasn’t just flesh; it was a weapon, a master key to any heart, a tool to unlock any desire.

Today, like yesterday, she prowled the hallway with deliberate slowness, seeking an excuse to drop by the offices of her male colleagues. To remind them of her presence, her power, the way she reveled in her dominance like a cat toying with its prey.

She felt a dull ache between her thighs, an echo of last night. Her memory held only fragments—the cold of a marble floor beneath her as she first knelt on all fours, then sank to her knees, surrendering to unfamiliar hands. She couldn’t recall the place, the time, or the name of the man whose friends later joined in. Just the cold and the hunger she quenched, dissolving into that act of submission. Today, she wore black trousers to conceal the traces of that night—scratches and bruises, dark stains on her otherwise impeccable armor.

Tanya approached the panoramic window, unaware that she was in Boris’s crosshairs. He was in love with her, but he’d never dare ask her out. Instead, he secretly filmed her on his phone whenever she passed by. Later, in the solitude of his cramped office, surrounded by boxes and outdated printers, he indulged in his fantasies. On rare occasions like this, he could catch a glimpse of her in the flesh through a half-open door, even if it was across the vast expanse of the luxurious office, and touch himself. If she ever found out, she wouldn’t flinch. Not with her face, not with her heart.

The city sprawled at her feet, and she had no idea that someone was greedily devouring the sight of her form-fitting silhouette with their eyes.

A myriad of lights below—each a tiny life, brimming with foolish hopes and pointless emotions. She caught her reflection in the glass. A beautiful face. Perfect features. A mask beneath which nothing remained. Nothing but a hollow, chilling emptiness that gnawed at her from within, like acid.

It was in this emptiness, like the depths of an ocean, that fragments sometimes surfaced. Fragments of the other Tanya. The girl who could laugh until she cried, who believed in love at first sight, who held hands with her first love and swore they’d be together forever. Tanya turned sharply from the window, as if struck. Ghosts had no place in her world. Her world was power, control, and cynicism, built like a fortress that no light or warmth could penetrate.