I was known as the traitor’s daughter.
When I was five years old, my father was tortured, branded with the letter ‘Z’, then beaten and left for dead. The grueling punishment for his crime was a reminder to all others who dared threaten the Russian’s reign.
I was the young girl left behind. A living piece of the traitorous puzzle the Russian leader tried so diligently to ignore.
Until I grew up. No longer could he deny how much my existence had always been intertwined with his. And in order to survive the life I was thrown into, I was forced to learn my place inside of it.