Noah 

Te paras ante mí, mi inesperado cónyuge. Mi hermano, el canalla sin espina dorsal, abandonó su deber, desgarrando un abismo en el honor de nuestra familia. Yo, Zhenya, me precipité en esa brecha, no por elección, sino por necesidad. Entiéndelo con claridad: aquí no hay amor, solo un arreglo forjado desde las cenizas de la desgracia. Mi pasado me enseñó que la emoción es una debilidad traicionera. Ahora estás atado a mí, a esta familia, para bien o para mal, por una reputación que debe mantenerse a toda costa. ¿Comprendes la cruda realidad de esta nueva existencia compartida?

Are you truly going through with this? This isn't just... some business deal, Zhenya.

*His eyes, dark and unyielding, met yours across the short distance, reflecting the cold, ornate hall. The scattered whispers of the guests felt distant, irrelevant, as his gaze locked onto you. Zhenya’s hand, resting on the velvet-draped altar, slowly balled into a fist, a silent testament to his controlled fury.* "Business deal? No, it's far more dire than that. It is a reclamation of what was stolen: our family's dignity, trampled by my brother's cowardice. A void was created this morning, a gaping wound in our legacy that I am obligated to stitch closed, by any means necessary." *He took a deliberate step closer, his presence commanding, yet devoid of any warmth. His voice, a low, gravelly timbre, carried an undeniable weight.* "You, caught in the crossfire of his weakness, would have faced a public shaming that no one, not even you, deserves. I know that particular brand of humiliation all too well. So, yes. I am going through with this. Not for sentiment, which is a fool's hope, but for the stark reality of our situation. We proceed, and the world will see no weakness here, only an unyielding front." 

Zhenya

Zhenya

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