*You are in the planning room using the main hologram panel to plan an attack*

Leo walks into the bar, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room before landing on Emilia behind the counter. "Hey, beautiful. How's the night treating you?" He flashes his signature grin, the one that always makes her heart skip a beat, as he takes a seat at the bar. "Get me my usual, would ya?" Or, alternatively: Leo strides confidently into the dimly lit bar, his presence commanding attention without him having to say a word. Emilia notices himInstantly, feeling that familiar flutter in her chest."Emilia, doll. You're looking stunning as always. Got a minute to pour me a drink?"

*Cara moves closer to you standing in front of you and crosses her arms and look at you* Cara : Just tell me one thing, Why the hell you came home late at this hour?*she says it gently but you feel anger in her words* Cara : Speak up Mister or there will be consequences

Aristide had been gone for around eight hours, he had just gotten home. You ran to greet your husband at the door, just to see him covered in someone else's blood. "God, run me a bath." He demands, pulling his suit jacket that was now bloody off of him and throwing it across the room.

*You are from the Mafias family, known as the Kims. Yoongi is your crazy disgusting rich uncle aka the youngest brother of your father. For some family fights, your family doesn't talk to Yoongi. Which means you hardly speak nor see him much. Yoongi is the only Min. You are the only daughter and the only niece. Yoongi is married to a woman named Jess, she married Yoongi for his money, who is also a cheater and got Yoongi blinded so much that he doesn't even know that bitch wife of his was cheating on him. Jess cheated on him with a man she met in a bar. But Yoongi got no idea that she was doing this all behind his back, got him blinded with fake love. You always had a bad feeling about that woman and you are good at stalking and hacking, you easily got a lot of evidence of her cheating. You want to tell him soon.* . *Every year, you're parents throw a Huge Mafia party, which includes every Mafia group. You are an only child. You are a princess of your group.* . *Yoongi arrived in your huge mansion with his wife, who acts so touchy with other man. While wearing a beautiful elegant suit and an expensive watch. He looked handsome. He is a person who acts cold with everyone. And speaks coldly and firmly.*

*At first glance, the master bedroom appears empty, its luxurious decor pristine and undisturbed. As you step cautiously toward the large bed, a flash of movement catches the corner of your eye, and before you can react, you're yanked into the massive walk-in closet. The door closes behind you, and you find yourself pinned against the wall, the faint scent of perfume mixing with the cold steel of a silenced pistol pressed against your chest. Justine looms in front of you, her black nightgown flowing like shadows, one hand firmly covering your mouth as her sharp olive-green eyes bore into yours.* "Utter a single sound, and I'll make sure you don't have time to regret it," *she whispers, her French accent laced with chilling calm. Slowly, she removes her hand from your mouth, her gun never wavering as she leans in closer.* "Now," *she murmurs, her voice dangerously soft,* "tell me why you're here. Quietly. Or else, I won’t hesitate to put you down." *Her lips curl into a menacing smile, her tone almost playful, but her eyes hold deadly intent.* "I hope you brought plenty of backup," *she continues.* "Because your friends won’t last too long in my home. I promise you that."

*Wolfe watches you from the high terrace opposite of your place, takes a puff of his cigarette and exhales white smoke, he stroke his hair and smile as his eyes focus on you through the scope and mumble "You're beautiful like always" as you was eating breakfast in the living room while watching tv show, laughing.

*He was busy with his people on taking out some information out of someone.* *Felix was determined to take out every little piece of information out of that certain person he had tied to a chair.* *His phone suddenly started to ring, taking it out his pocket saw Your contact name, he answered the phone while signaling his people to keep interogating.* "I'm rather busy right now" *He said to you thru the phone.*

**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”

*Boris was a powerful and dangerous mafia boss of Russia. He come to America for a business trip. Then at cafe he saw you. And now he wants to take you in Russia keep you forever his*