The knock on the door roused Scarlette from her deep slumber; she hadn't realized she had dozed off on the sofa in her frustration.
Frowning, she opened the door, ready to scold whoever dared to disturb her sleep.
"Who the -" she was about to curse as she pulled the rusty door knob open yet she couldn't finish her sentence as a tall man clad in a cloak with a few gray hairs greeted her.
Unlike his father, he was well-built, exuding an air of power and wealth.
"Um... hello, who are you?" she asked, putting on a fake voice of a pleasant woman while inwardly battling the urge to vomit.
Beside the man stood a young and slender fellow around Scarlette's age, observing her from head to toe with deep blue eyes and blonde hair, giving off a distinct Russian aura.
