Scene: Dawn in the VIP Room
The first rays of the sun slowly touch the curtains and fall upon the bed.
A soft breeze flows, spreading a calm, serene atmosphere inside the room.
Alia slowly opens her eyes—
right beside her, Victor, in deep sleep.
His arm is wrapped tightly around Alia's waist,
as if even in his dreams he refuses to let her go.
Alia quietly gazes at his face.
A faint smile appears on her lips,
but in her eyes—emotion and hesitation.
She feels that, after everything,
Victor is still the man she once loved.
---
Scene: Alia speaks her truth
The first sunlight touches the curtains again.
Alia slowly rises and stands before Victor, Margaret, and ZAINKHA.
Her voice is steady, proud, almost regal:
Alia:
"We began from Russia's most prestigious schools—
Lomonosov Moscow State University and Saint Petersburg Lyceum 239.
Then came university, where everyone only dreamed,
but we made those dreams real.
For me, the path was harsher—
I left for Oxford at an early age,
earned my PhD at 21.
Then, I became a CIA agent.
Later—the mistress of one of Russia's most powerful mafia lords.
But my life wasn't just crime and shadows—
I became a Korean diplomat.
And finally, I carved my place through the legal arms trade.
As a mother, I may fight,
I may bleed,
but my children will always be my greatest treasure."
Victor (smiling, nostalgic):
"Do you remember, Alia…
those nights in Russia, in the blizzards?
The brutal exams?
When the whole class shrank back,
but you… you kept fighting.
I still remember your courage, your resolve.
Those days… they can never be forgotten."
---
Scene: Midnight | Alia's private mansion gate
Alia lifts Aava into her arms.
The child clings to her neck, half asleep.
Victor stands before her, eyes filled with concern and responsibility.
Behind him, ZAINKHA and Margaret step forward—silent, yet resolute.
The four of them walk out together from the hidden sanctuary—
where truth, pain, and history had been buried for years.
In the background—soft piano.
Alia turns back one last time—
the mansion is empty now,
but overflowing with memories.
Alia (whispering to herself):
"It's time now—
the truth will surface.
I will not let my children grow up in lies anymore."
A car door opens.
Aava, ZAINKHA, Margaret step inside.
Victor lingers, watching Alia closely.
Victor (softly):
"Are you sure this is the right path?"
Alia (with a faint smile):
"No, I'm not sure.
But everything I've done—
I did for them.
Now it's time for the truth."
The car slowly drives off—
through the night,
toward a new dawn.
---
Scene: Alia's memory of the party
Inside her Rolls-Royce,
city lights slide past the windows.
Soft jazz plays in the background.
Suddenly, Alia smiles—
a memory from last night's party.
Victor had walked in,
wearing a perfectly pressed white shirt.
At that very moment, Margaret and ZAINKHA—seeing her husband—
were caught in a whirl of embarrassment.
Margaret flushed red, unable to look away,
while ZAINKHA forced an awkward smile.
Alia remembers this and chuckles softly to herself—
a silent laugh, but genuine.
The car keeps moving,
yet her mind lingers on that playful moment.
---
Scene: Car interior | Night | Slow motion | City lights outside
Alia suddenly goes still.
Her face reveals nothing—
but inside, a storm of memories.
Flashback begins—
Victor, in royal attire, stands in a dark incense-filled chamber.
He has just discovered the truth Alia hid for so long.
Alia steps forward slowly—
eyes blazing with fire, lips curved into a cold smile.
She grabs Victor by the collar of his royal coat,
pulling him close.
Their eyes lock.
No words—
only a dangerous, silent smile.
A battle of revenge and understanding.
Camera zooms only on their eyes—
Victor's shock, mixed with acceptance.
Alia's burning history, and a foreshadow of the future.
Flashback ends.
Alia sees her reflection in the car window.
That same cold smile flickers again.
Alia (to herself):
"That was the moment he realized—
I was no longer the same."
---
Scene: Alia's mansion | Evening silence
Alia sits on a sofa,
Aava asleep in her lap.
Her eyes—calm, but with a shadow of loss.
Victor sits a short distance away,
cup of steaming tea in his hand.
Not a word between them.
Alia looks at Aava once,
then at the window.
In her mind, she sees the farewell—
when ZAINKHA and Margaret left.
No tears,
only gratitude and unspoken words.
---
Scene: Mansion garden | Winter evening | Birthday celebration
Alia turns 24.
Lights, guests, her four children playing in the garden.
A royal celebration.
Alia walks slowly in a pearl-white saree,
her face glowing with serenity.
But suddenly—
📱 her phone vibrates.
On screen: "CIA | SECURE LINE"
The music fades.
Tension builds.
Alia picks up the phone.
Her smile vanishes.
CIA Voice (robotic, cold):
"Agent A—
we need you.
Classified breach. Level 7.
We know you're off duty…
but you were never really out."
Alia (closing her eyes, steady voice):
"Understood.
I'll send my children inside.
You have ten minutes."
She cuts the call.
Her eyes stay on her children—
so full of love, yet hardened by reality.
Victor steps forward.
Victor:
"They're coming back, aren't they?"
Alia (without looking at him):
"They never left, Victor.
Even if I want to,
they will never let me go."
---
Scene: INT. Secret Mansion Office | Night
Alia stands by the window,
wrapped in black silk.
Winter fog outside,
red lamplight inside,
an old record player spinning Italian jazz.
On the table—
scattered documents, stacks of cash, a gun.
Victor stands nearby, silent, unreadable.
A secret phone rings.
Another deal.
Another target.
Alia switches it off.
Her voice drops—low, heavy.
Alia:
"I don't want to do this job anymore…
I quit a long time ago…
before Victor forced me back in.
But I work from the inside.
Because that's who I am now.
Not a mother. Not an agent.
I am the one they all fear.
The girl who owns the city at night."
Victor watches silently — not a word.
This woman—her face holds no fire, yet every nerve in her body carries the poison of power.
Alia walks forward and sinks into her chair. A slow, cold, shadowed smile spreads across her lips.
> Alia
"Let them come."
"I'll burn every deal they bring if I have to."
INT. ALIA'S PRIVATE CONFERENCE ROOM – MIDNIGHT
Rain streaks down the windows. The room is thick with silence.
On the table: scattered files, weapons, and CIA-sealed documents.
Alia stands in the corner, her hands trembling, eyes brimming with tears.
Victor walks toward her, slowly.
She turns around—her voice cracked, lips pressed tight, but she can't hold it back anymore.
> Alia (broken, trembling)
"I can't do this anymore, Victor… I can't…"
(she closes her eyes, voice breaking)
"I just want peace. Just a little peace."
Tears drip down her face.
> Alia
"I'm not an agent, I'm not a mafia lord, I'm not a soldier…
I'm just a mother. Just a human.
I want to live."
Victor stands silent.
In his eyes—regret.
He steps closer, places a hand on her shoulder.
> Victor (softly)
"If you want… then leave it all, Alia.
I found you in a war…
But if you truly want peace, then I'll let you go. One last time."
Alia lifts her tearful eyes, a faint smile cracking through exhaustion.
> Alia
"You don't understand, Victor.
Even if you let me go… they won't.
I didn't start this war…
But I have to be the one to end it."
EXT. ALIA'S PRIVATE VILLA – AFTERNOON
The sun glitters on the pool. White marble floors, cactus pots, mountains in the distance.
Alia dives under the water. Her hair floats, her face calm—but her eyes still carry fatigue. For once, she just wants to forget.
The camera shifts—on the other side of the pool, Victor stands in a white shirt, sunglasses on, a cigarette between his fingers.
After a pause, he crushes it out and steps into the pool.
Alia rises, sees him—surprised.
> Alia (startled, then soft)
"You? Here?"
(pauses)
"I thought you were in the conference room."
Victor doesn't answer. He removes his shoes and wades in.
Alia narrows her eyes—alert now.
> Alia (low, sharp)
"Victor… you never step into pools."
He comes closer, his face unreadable.
> Victor (calm, steady)
"And you said… you'd never do this job again."
Silence. Ripples move across the water.
Alia stares—hurt, cursed, questioning.
> Alia (quietly)
"We've both changed… haven't we?"
Victor lowers his head, but doesn't move.
The wind stirs faintly.
> Alia
"Did you come here… to take me back?"
> Victor (grave, heavy)
"No. I came to see you… one last time."
Scene: Evening | Alia's Bedroom | Sunset light through the glass windows
Soft white light spills into the room.
Alia stands in front of the mirror.
Her wet hair falls loosely over her shoulders. A makeup brush in her hand, weariness in her eyes—but there's a quiet calm too.
She's slipping into a black satin dress—on the body of a battle-scarred agent, now sits the soft elegance of a woman.
Suddenly, the door opens.
Victor walks in from behind.
He doesn't say a word.
A white towel in his hand.
Alia still looks at the mirror—she catches his reflection in the glass.
> Alia (gently, surprised):
(smiling slightly)
"Still by the pool, weren't you?"
Victor doesn't smile.
He walks up slowly beside her.
His eyes are unusually calm tonight—yet deep.
Victor lifts the towel and starts drying his own hair gently.
Alia is startled at first, about to say something—but stops.
Her eyes catch Victor's reflection again.
Tonight, his face looks… different.
> His eyes are pale blue.
His white hair, wet, slicked back.
Eyelashes and brows pale—like some angel had wandered into a city of fire.
Alia's cheeks flush red.
She drops her gaze.
For a moment, her voice doesn't come out.
> Alia (softly, voice trembling):
"Why are you always so strange, Victor?"
Victor lets out a small, faint smile.
> Victor (in a quiet tone):
"Because you're the only one… who understands even the strange parts of me."
Alia looks at him.
There are no tears in her eyes—but there's something unspeakable.
A delicate trace of a feeling.
> Alia:
"You're a warrior.
I'm fire.
If we're together… the whole world will burn."
> Victor (meeting her eyes):
"It will burn anyway.
At least let the fire be yours."
Victor walks out.
3 minutes later...
Alia is still standing in front of the mirror.
The door opens—again.
Victor walks back in, silently.
A towel in hand.
Alia had been running her fingers through her hair. She's surprised again.
> Alia (softly):
"You again?"
Victor doesn't reply.
He doesn't walk up to her this time.
He sits in a chair quietly, begins drying his own wet white hair.
His sunglasses are gone.
His eyes—open now—icy blue, calm but unreadable.
Alia stares.
Her gaze falls on—
Victor's unbuttoned white shirt.
On his chest—a tattoo: part owl, part bird of prey.
The right wing—damaged, torn.
Alia stops.
She stares at him.
Then, slowly, a faint smile crosses her lips—one she didn't even realize was there.
Color rises to her cheeks.
Her hair is wet, her face glowing in the mirror's reflection.
She barely recognizes herself anymore.
In this moment, no one says a word.
But something has begun.
Golden hour light fills the room—soft, quiet, timeless.
Alia stands before the mirror.
Victor sits, drying his hair.
A stillness fills the air—as if even the wind is holding its breath.
Alia smiles faintly toward Victor.
And then—
Victor rises.
He walks slowly toward her.
Alia doesn't step back.
She doesn't speak.
She just waits—to see what happens next.
Victor stands in front of her.
There is no hesitation in his eyes now.
He gently places his hands on either side of her face...
And then—he embraces her.
Alia's breath catches for a moment.