Welcome to the Lion’s Den

The drive to the Kuznetsov estate dragged on like a slow descent into hell.

Avery sat with her arms crossed, her glare fixed on the blurred scenery outside the window. Her thoughts spun with questions she couldn’t shake:

What would Sergei Kuznetsov be like?

Why did her family owe him so much?

What kind of life awaited her in this prison of velvet and marble?

Her stomach twisted. She didn’t fear monsters—she feared cages.

After two suffocating hours, the car finally slowed. Avery leaned forward, heart lurching as massive iron gates loomed ahead.

They creaked open like ancient jaws, revealing an estate that seemed plucked from a billionaire’s fever dream.

She stepped out, her boots crunching on the perfectly paved driveway. Her breath caught. The mansion before her was a palace—towers of stone, gold-tipped roofs, windows tall enough to swallow her whole.

Armed guards stood like statues at every post, eyes cold and impassive.

“Welcome to hell,” she muttered under her breath.

A woman in a tailored black dress approached briskly, her posture stiff and her nose slightly upturned.

“This way, Miss Wells,” she said, her tone clipped, gaze sweeping over Avery’s ripped jeans and combat boots like they were contagious.

Avery lifted her chin. “Nice to meet you too.”

The woman didn’t smile. “I am Mrs. Petrov, head of the house staff.”

Avery offered a hand. “Avery Wells.”

Mrs. Petrov ignored it. Instead, she pivoted and led Avery into the estate.

The front doors opened to a world too polished to feel real. The ceilings soared with gold-dipped moldings and chandeliers the size of small cars.

Marble floors stretched endlessly beneath her feet, their surface so glossy she could see her own scowl reflected in them. Everything reeked of excess—wealth that could crush the average soul.

As they walked, Mrs. Petrov began listing names and doors like Avery was on a grim tour.

“This wing belongs to Sergei’s sons,” she said without a glance back.

Avery’s ears pricked at the word sons.

“And this hall leads to Sergei’s personal quarters…”

Mrs. Petrov gestured vaguely, her voice almost mechanical.

Eventually, she stopped in front of a thick, ornate door carved with roses and wolves.

“Your room,” she announced flatly.

The door creaked open, revealing a suite bigger than her entire house. Velvet drapes framed massive windows, and a chandelier sparkled overhead like a threatening crown.

A rich rug spread out across the polished floor, and a bed that could swallow her whole rested in the center.

“You’re next to the ninth wife,” Mrs. Petrov added dryly.

Avery blinked. “Ninth? As in... I’m number ten?”

“That is correct.”

Disgust crawled up her throat. Her hands curled into fists.

Before she could process the horror of it all, Mrs. Petrov led her to another door farther down, this one isolated and locked.

“This one is off-limits,” she said firmly.

Avery raised a brow. “Why?”

“It belongs to the youngest Kuznetsov son. Illegitimate. Sergei keeps him isolated.”

Avery glanced at the door, her curiosity piqued, but said nothing.

Back in her room, Mrs. Petrov handed her a stack of documents. “Thumbprint here, here... and here.”

Avery stared. “So I’m officially being sold.”

“Read if you like. But it’s standard.”

“Looks more like a slave contract,” Avery muttered, pressing her thumb to the designated spaces.

Mrs. Petrov handed her a box.

A ring lay inside. Gold, heavy, suffocating.

Avery slipped it on. It fit perfectly. Too perfectly.

“You will change,” Mrs. Petrov said sharply. “You are no longer allowed to dress like this, Mrs. Kuznetsov.”

Avery’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me that.”

Mrs. Petrov ignored her and turned to leave. “Take care.”

Avery flopped onto the bed as the door shut behind the older woman. “Annoying wench,” she grumbled, rolling across the soft sheets like a defiant child. She didn’t realize when exhaustion pulled her under.

She woke hours later, disoriented but strangely rested. The silence here wasn’t like home. It was heavier. More dangerous.

Her gaze drifted to the glowing Jacuzzi in the corner. Might as well enjoy what I can.

She stripped off her clothes and slid into the warm water, sighing as it wrapped around her like a temporary escape.

“So cool,” she murmured, letting her head fall back.

Afterward, she dressed in the outfit left for her—a soft blue gown. Feminine. Fitted. Strange against her skin.

She grimaced in the mirror. Not terrible. Still me… just wrapped in someone else’s fantasy.

A knock came at the door.

Before she could answer, it opened.

A girl walked in, all high heels, smooth black hair, and unnaturally chipper energy, hinting at Korean features.

Avery raised an eyebrow. “You always walk into strangers’ rooms?”

“Wow, your room’s just like mine! So cool!” the girl chirped.

Avery gave her a look that could kill. “Excuse me?”

The girl straightened, then offered a hand. “Lisa Park. Ninth wife. You must be Avery—the tomboy.”

Avery stared, blinking. “The what now?”

“I’ve heard all about you!” Lisa giggled. “I couldn’t wait to meet you!”

“I don’t do friends,” Avery said, stepping closer. “Especially not chatty girls. You should go.”

Lisa’s smile faltered, but she nodded. “It’s okay. I just… wanted someone to talk to. This place is full of monsters.”

She turned to leave.

Avery hesitated. Something about the girl’s eyes stopped her.

“…We could be friends,” she said suddenly.

Lisa froze, then spun around like she’d won the lottery.

“Aigoo! I’m your first female friend, right?!”

Avery groaned. “Regretting it already.”

Food arrived within minutes—cheeseburgers, crispy fries, creamy milkshakes. Avery stared like she’d seen a vision.

“God, this looks sinful.”

“You’ve never had food like this?” Lisa asked, wide-eyed.

“Not like this,” Avery admitted, taking a bite that melted in her mouth.

They ate until full. Then Avery leaned back, sighing. “Alright, talk. Tell me about this place.”

Lisa’s expression darkened.

“This estate has layers,” she said quietly. “And secrets. Sergei has six legitimate sons... and one illegitimate.”

Avery leaned in.

“Roman’s the eldest. He collects skulls. Real ones. Anton is a mafia businessman—manipulative, power-hungry, and… let’s just say he doesn’t like women.”

“Maksim is in the army—cold and brutal. Rarely home, but he plays dirty. Denis is a doctor who experiments on people with toxins. Viktor is a silent lawyer for the U.S. government. He and Denis are twins. Both are snakes.”

Lisa lowered her voice. “Ivan is the youngest legit son. A total womanizer. He’s dangerous... and hates the illegitimate one—Kieran.”

Avery frowned. “Kieran...”

“He’s Sergei’s seventh son. Born to a maid who vanished. No one talks to him. He’s... isolated. Hated. Punished. But…”

“But?”

Lisa hesitated. “He’s stunning. And terrifying. No one really knows what he’s capable of.”

Avery’s thoughts went to the locked room. Figures.

“And you?” she asked.

“My father owed Sergei. Sold me as payment.”

Avery’s heart twisted. “Did Sergei... touch you?”

Lisa looked away. “Once. A year ago. He’s too busy now. His sons… sometimes they handle... things.”

Avery’s face hardened. “I swear, if anyone tries that with me—”

Lisa grabbed her hand, eyes wide. “Don’t fight them. Just obey. It’s how you survive.”

Avery pulled away. “I don’t obey. I survive my way.”

Lisa sighed. “You’re reckless.”

Later that night, after Lisa had left, Avery found herself pacing. Restless. Her curiosity burned like a fuse.

I need to know more.

She crept out, barefoot and silent. Slipping through halls, she found an old service passage that twisted into forgotten corners.

Voices stopped her.

She hid in the shadows, heart racing.

“…Please, Kieran,” a woman begged. “Let’s do it tonight. Sergei’s gone for months.”

Her robe slid from her shoulders.

Avery gagged silently. The woman was old enough to be his mother.

Kieran’s voice was icy. “You’re disgusting, stepmother. Go screw your sons.”

Avery’s eyes widened.

Stepmother?!

Something shifted under her foot, and it clattered loudly. The woman gasped.

“Who’s there?”

Kieran stepped forward, scanning. He spotted the edge of Avery’s elbow.

“No one,” he said flatly, shielding her.

“You’ll regret this!” the woman hissed, storming off.

Once she was gone, his voice turned deadly calm.

“Come out.”

Avery froze. Then a rag was ripped away, and Kieran yanked her forward by the hair.

Their eyes locked.

“…Mr. Dickface,” she growled.

He smirked.

“You’re the new wifey?” he said mockingly, voice low.

They stood face-to-face, fire meeting ice.

“Fate has a twisted sense of humor,” he muttered. “Stepmom.”

"So you're the weirdo," she scoffed, crossing her arms. "This world is really small. Fate is really cruel, indeed."

"The chain?" he asked suddenly, stepping closer to her.

"Oh, that?" She let out a short laugh. "I already sold it. I was really broke at the time, you know."

She smirked without guilt.

His hand shot out, gripping her throat tightly.

"You won’t get it by killing me," she hissed, her voice strained. "So quit it."

He nearly struck her but held back, his clenched fist trembling.

"Who's there?!" a guard’s voice thundered in the distance.

She turned her head. When she looked back, he was gone—like a shadow vanishing into thin air.

Avery scoffed and slipped away quickly, avoiding the guard’s suspicion. Once inside her room, she rubbed her sore neck with a wince.

“That dickface... So annoying. And calling me stepmom? Fuck him, I suddenly feel old,” she muttered.

"Who made the great Avery Wells this furious?" a voice said behind her.

She turned to see Lisa arranging plates at the small dining table.

"How long have you been here?" Avery asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Long enough to hear you grumbling," Lisa replied casually.

"It was the Kier—" Avery started, but Lisa interrupted her cheerfully.

"Come and eat some ramen before it gets soggy."

Avery dropped into a seat, eyeing the bowl. "Looks like noodles."

"Yeah—Korean noodles," Lisa said, slurping up a strand.

Avery tried a bite and nodded, impressed. "Hmm. Delicious. Not bad at all. I want more."

She helped herself to another serving straight from the pot.

"Try this too," Lisa offered, pouring a clear liquid into two tiny glass cups. "Some soju."

Avery took a sip and smirked. "Hits the spot."

They clinked their glasses and drank again and again.

"We should stop... We’re drunk," Lisa slurred, her cheeks flushed pink.

"I’m not drunk," Avery insisted. "Just a little bit more." She poured another round.

"Fuck everything. Marriage. Sergei. Kieran. Fuck you all."

The next morning, Avery groaned and rolled out of bed—literally.

She hit the cold floor with a thud.

"Shit," she groaned, holding her throbbing head.

"Fuck."

She dragged herself up, only to spot Lisa curled up on the bed, sleeping peacefully.

Gritting her teeth, Avery grabbed a pillow and slammed it onto Lisa.

"Yaa!" Lisa yelled in Korean, stirring with a sluggish groan. "What the hell..."

"Look at you, sleeping so comfortably while my head’s killing me," Avery said.

"Jeez, you're so noisy. I want to sleep more," Lisa pouted, rolling over and pulling the blanket back over her face.

"You!" Avery shouted, repeatedly hitting her with the pillow.

Lisa mumbled something in Korean, half-asleep, when suddenly the door creaked open.

They both froze at the sound of a throat clearing.

The headmaid stood in the doorway, her eyes like daggers, watching their disheveled appearance—messy hair, crumpled clothes, and chaos all around.

Avery met her stare defiantly. Lisa looked away in embarrassment.

“There is a masked party tonight,” the maid said in her usual sharp tone. “All wives must attend. If not, you’ll answer to Sir Roman. You’ll be taken to Velena Couture for your dress fitting.”