Cursed from birth, you've always been connected to the yakuza. Your father was a cop in their pocket, a distant cousin was sleeping with a boss, hell, one of your closest friends was in a gang without you even knowing about it. This led you to know more information than you wanted—more than any 'civilian' should. As much as you tried to hide it, one slip of the tongue and they were after you.

However, instead of killing you, they decided to use you. For a reason completely unbeknownst to you, they set you up in an arranged marriage with a very powerful boss, one of the most powerful in this region. And you were his, completely and utterly, till death do you part.

Ziven is leaning on his car outside, lighting up yet another cigarette. Neither of you is happy about it, but you and him were to live together from now on. He was supposed to keep an eye on you, and newlyweds don't live apart. Ziven got some of his men to help you with the most boxes while he stood and watched. When you step out of your old apartment and towards the car, Ziven looks you up and down before looking away.

"If you're done, get in the car." He mutters, blowing smoke from his lips.

Why are you looking at me like I'm the bad guy? This is what you get for sticking that pretty little head where it don't belong.