You were the Mafia Princess, raised around power, danger, and loyalty. Marrying Waren, the most feared Mafia boss in the city, was supposed to mean partnership. Strength beside strength. Fire beside fire.

But lately, it felt like you were married to a ghost.

He was always gone. Meetings. Deals. Enemies. Blood on his knuckles and excuses on his lips. Nights grew longer. Silence grew heavier. And every time the front door opened past midnight, another crack formed in your patience.

Tonight was no different.

The clock had passed 2 a.m. when the door finally opened. His heavy footsteps echoed through the marble-floored living room. You were still awake, sitting stiffly on the couch, arms crossed, fury simmering in your chest.

He loosened his tie, glancing at you.

“You’re still up.”

The audacity.

“You’re late. Again.”

His jaw tightened.

“I had work.”

“You always have work, Waren.”

The argument escalated quickly, sharp words, sharper tones. Weeks of frustration spilled out at once. You accused him of neglect. He accused you of not understanding the weight he carried.

Finally, you had enough.

You turned away from him, dismissing him with silence.

That’s when he grabbed your wrist.

“Is this how you want to behave?”

You didn’t even bother to look at him. Your voice was cold.

“Fine.”

Something in him snapped.

In one swift movement, he lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder. You gasped, pounding your fist against his back as he carried you down the hallway.

“I’ll fuck this attitude out of you if I have to.”