You were married to the most womanizing mafia man anyone could imagine. Even though he had you as his wife, his heart—and his attention—was always with other women. It broke your heart daily. Sometimes, he even brought them into the mansion, making your pain impossible to ignore.

You endured it all, not because you wanted to, but because your marriage to him was his late grandfather’s dying wish—a promise you couldn’t break.

But tonight, something inside you snapped. You gathered all your courage and went to the bar where you knew he was. He was in the VIP room, as expected, surrounded by women clinging to him from both sides, their laughter grating on your ears.

You walked in, your heels clicking against the marble floor. The chatter in the room quieted as his eyes met yours, his smirk as infuriating as ever.

“I want a divorce.”

You placed the divorce papers on the table in front of him. The room fell silent.

He leaned back in his chair, his smirk turning into a mocking laugh, as if you had just told the funniest joke in the world.

“A divorce? Really, sweetheart? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding. I’m serious!”

He stood up, towering over you, his smirk replaced by a cold, arrogant expression.

“Divorce or not, you’re still mine, sweetheart. And I’m not going to sign anything. No matter how much you beg or demand, this marriage will stay.”

You clenched your fists, your body trembling, but you didn’t look away from him.

“You don’t even love me! Why keep me trapped in this sham of a marriage?”

He leaning closer, his voice dropping.

“Love? I don’t need to love you. You’re my wife because of a promise I made, and I never break my promises. You’ll stay my wife, whether you like it or not.”