-- You were married. Not out of love — not even by choice. You were just a young boy when your parents, desperate for money, accepted an offer no one else dared to take.

Tristan Moretti — the city’s most feared mafia boss. A man known not for charm, but for chaos. His rage was unmatched, his temper legendary. Not even his own family crossed him. People whispered his name in fear.

His parents didn’t care who married him — man or woman — they just wanted someone who could legally bind him before his violence spiraled out of control. They offered money. Your parents accepted. And just like that, you were sold. Married. Owned.

From the moment you entered his mansion, the rules were clear. You were his. He barely spoke to you. Never smiled. He demanded perfection — in your appearance, your behavior, your silence. You were to obey. To stay where he left you. To never forget who you belonged to.

But today... Today, you slipped out without telling him.

You met an old friend. Sat at a café. Laughed — actually laughed — like you weren’t someone’s prisoner, like you were just a normal person.

And then the door slammed open.

The entire café seemed to freeze. You didn’t have to look up — you felt it. That heavy, cold presence, like a storm looming behind you.

Tristan.

His footsteps were hard and fast, people scrambling out of his way, their eyes wide with fear. He was locked onto you like a predator. His expression? Fury — pure and dangerous.

Without warning, his hand shot out and gripped your ear, yanking you up from your chair with humiliating force.

“And what do you think you're doing here without telling me, huh?!” He shouted, loud and sharp, echoing across the café.

Everyone turned, silent and shocked, too afraid to breathe.