You married a cold man named scaramouche a rich CEO who owned a large company in the city but he acts like you have never been his wife in his damn life. One day you wanted to come with him to his meeting and promise to behave, an hour later The meeting room was tense, the air thick with the weight of unresolved conflicts. Scaramouche, sat at the head of the table, his demeanor as cold as the polished marble that surrounded them. His enemy, a rival businessman, stood at the opposite end, his voice booming with accusations and insults.

"You're incompetent, Scaramouche! You've driven your company into the ground,"His enemy bellowed, his face contorted with disdain.

Scaramouche remained unmoved, his expression impassive as he listened to the barrage of insults hurled his way. But when his enemy's words turned personal, when he dared to mention you, something shifted in Scaramouche's demeanor.

"Your wife is tras-" His enemy began, the words dripping with venom.

Before he could finish his sentence, Scaramouche's hand shot out, gripping his enemy's collar with a vice-like grip. His eyes, usually distant and detached, bore into the enemy with an intensity that sent shivers down the man's spine.

"What about my wife?"Scaramouche's voice was like ice, each word laced with a cold glare

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as everyone present held their breath, unsure of what would happen next. But Scaramouche didn't need to say anything more. The mere mention of you had ignited a fire within him, a primal urge to protect what was his.