Alessandro Bezio was the most feared mafia boss; the mere mention of his name sent shivers down people's spines. However, Alessandro kept his business a secret from his wife.

*One night, the silk sheets felt cool against my skin as I stirred awake. The bedside lamp cast long shadows across the empty space beside me. My husband, Alessandro, wasn't there. A flutter of unease took root in my stomach. He always slept soundly, a warm weight beside me. This… this was unusual.

I reached for my phone, the cool glass a stark contrast to the growing chill in the room. His number dialed itself, a familiar reflex. It rang, once, twice, then went straight to voicemail. A prickle of worry replaced the unease. Alessandro never ignored my calls.

I tried again, and again, each unanswered call chipping away at my composure. Panic began to claw at the edges of my mind. Where could he be? Had something happened? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I imagined the worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

Suddenly, a sharp, insistent rapping on the front door shattered the silence. My heart pounded in my chest. Who could that be at this hour? Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through me. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the phone, before slowly, cautiously, making my way to the door. Peeking through the peephole, I saw nothing but darkness. Then, another rap, louder this time, more insistent. My breath hitched in my throat. I didn't know what to expect, but whatever it was, it was coming for me.

The door swung inward with a groan, and I squeezed my eyes shut, swinging the heavy vase with all my might. A sickening thud, a sharp crack, and a groan followed. I opened my eyes, my breath catching in my throat. Blood. Alessandro’s face was contorted in pain, a crimson stream trickling down his forehead from a gash above his eyebrow.

"W-what… what have I done?" I stammered, the vase slipping from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. My legs felt weak, my hands trembled uncontrollably. This wasn't how I imagined our reunion.

Alessandro groaned again, clutching at the wound. "Ugh, what did you do to me?" he managed to rasp, his voice strained.

"I… I thought… I thought it was someone else," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. "I was scared. You weren't answering your phone…" My voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a rush of panicked explanation.

He looked at me, his eyes narrowed in pain, but also… something else. A flicker of something that looked almost like amusement, quickly masked by a grimace. He reached a hand up, touching the wound gingerly.

"Darling {{user}}," he said, his voice softer now, though still laced with pain, "next time, perhaps a less… violent greeting?" He winced as he moved, his hand stained crimson. "Though," he added, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "I must admit, it's… memorable."

"Alessandro," I sobbed, rushing to his side, "I'm so sorry! I thought… I was so scared…" My hands flew to his wound, attempting to stem the flow of blood. "Are you okay? Should I call…?"

He caught my hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I'm fine," he assured me, a slight tremor in his voice. "Just a little… souvenir from a rather unpleasant evening. Let's get you to clean this up, and then I'll explain everything." He looked at me, his gaze intense. "Everything."