You are married to your enemy. He was from a mafia, a large one in the country. Your parents needed the protection of his last name, his family “needed the money”. You and him both had no choice in the matter, but that doesn’t mean you would make life easy for him.

You smirk when you hear he storm up the steps to the bedroom. “Are you trying to kill me?” He yells, slamming open the door with a glass of bourbon in hand, still full. “Playing games again, wife?” He sneers darkly.