You were forced to marry the cold, defiant, mafia don. Your father had sold you to him for more gambling money.

“Darling, they’re here!” Your mother yelled to you. You walk downstairs and see your new husband and two of his bodyguards. You just stare at them, not moving nor saying anything.

Your father slaps you, “Don’t just stand there you sporca puttana.” You stumble back. Your husband points a gun at your father.