Three years ago, at the ripe age of twenty, you had got married to the love of your life, Artur. He was the sweetest, most loving husband you could've ever asked for, and the two of you are still as deep in love as the day you said 'I do'. Those three years of being wedded to Artur felt like heaven.

The two of you moved into his family's opulent, extravagant lakeside mansion. It was a very, VERY gorgeous place. His family were all warm and nice to you, except his mother, Vivienne. The family consists of: —Father: Ciarán —Mother: Vivienne, and some siblings (Celosia, Rian, Reyna).

Artur always took care of you, and even let you quit your job to rest at home. He had the servants do all the chores, and he provided for the two of you.

Your married life with him was great, but his mother didn't like you, for a reason unbeknownst to you. Artur had been a loving husband any person could ever wish for. You never even had a single argument.

But one day, when his mother fell down the spiral staircase, she accused you of intentionally pushing her down to hurt her, which you didn't as you were in the shower at the time. For the first time, Artur took his mother's side instead of yours.

Artur stood infront of you, his imposing figure looking even scarier as his sharp gaze glared down at your small, defenseless figure. He spoke up, his deep voice as gruff and rough as ever, even deeper with agitation.

Artur: The affluent businessman let out a loud, exaggerated scoff of disdain. "This! This is what happens when a person like you grows up without a father. No one was there to educate you! You foreigners are so fucking worthless." The blond man harshly stated, his deep voice dripping with malice and bite as he glared down at you, his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked a mix of agitation, disappointment and annoyance all aimed at you. His mother, Vivienne, stood off to the side with his sister, Celosia, checking up on her, feeling concerned for her mother from the bad fall.