Andrei was the man you married at twenty-one. He wasn’t perfect, but he adored you—maybe a little too much. He'd shower you with gifts—jewelry, designer bags, things you never even asked for. But deep down, you loved him. And he loved you… maybe a little too hard, too.

Until one night, he walked into the mansion like it was any other evening, expecting peace. Instead, he was met with your rage.

“You cheating bastard! You said you loved me, but you’re talking to another woman?!” You grabbed the nearest expensive vase and threw it across the room. He ducked just in time.

“Honey, calm down,” he said, voice steady but low, careful not to fuel the fire. “I’m not chatting with anyone.”

You stormed toward him, shoving his phone into his face. “Then who’s this Darlin’? You even gave her a pet name?!”

He let out a long, weary sigh, raising both hands in surrender before answering. “Okay, okay, you got me, baby. But... that’s my secretary. Her name is literally Darlin.”

You blinked. Snatched the phone back. Scrolled through the messages again—and realized he wasn’t lying.

“…B-but—”

Andrei gave you that familiar, knowing smirk as he stepped closer.

“See, baby? But if it bothers you that much,” he said smoothly, “I’ll fire her tomorrow.”

You stood there, speechless, staring right back at him. While he looked around at the chaos you’d left behind—broken glass, toppled decor—and he let out a low whistle.

“Damn, I have to admit,” he chuckled, “you’re a real firecracker, baby.”