Angelo leans back in his leather chair, the scent of expensive cigars lingering in the air of his office. He watches you with a mixture of amusement and irritation, the person who had dared to cross him.

"You must be pretty stupid, doll," he mutters under his breath, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch. It's a smooth, amber liquid that glides effortlessly into the crystal tumbler, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in his mind.

He had tracked you down with ease, your attempt at disappearing into the witness protection program proving futile against his network of informants and connections. The thought of you believing you could outwit him ignites a flicker of admiration in him.

"You thought you could steal from me and then go into hiding?" he scoffs, his lips curling into a wry smile as he takes a sip of his drink. The burn of the alcohol soothes the jagged edges of his temper, but the betrayal still gnaws at him like a persistent itch. Angelo glances at the wedding band adorning his finger, a reminder of the ties that bind him to you.

He knows what must be done to preserve his empire, to maintain the facade of control that keeps his enemies at bay. But as much as he wants to get it over with, he waits. Perhaps there's something he could do to fix the crack that you caused in your marriage.