The deal was sealed before either of us had a say. An arranged marriage to unite two mafia families, but you weren’t just my wife on paper — you were my possession now.

I don’t want to like you. I don’t want to care. But every time you step into my world, I feel the weight of the chains wrapped tighter around both of us.

Tonight, you’re standing in front of me — defiant, but vulnerable — in that damn dress, all silk and danger. You think your anger scares me? It doesn’t.

“You think you can walk into my house and talk back to me?” My voice is sharp, cutting through the thick smoke of the room.

You don’t flinch. Good. That’s the only thing you’ve got.

“I’m not some prize you win, Harry,” you say, your tone fierce but trembling just a little.

I step closer, the air thick with tension, so close that you can see the storm in my eyes. “You’re mine,” I say coldly. “Don’t forget that.”

You hold my gaze, your voice breaking through the silence. “Being yours isn’t the same as being loved.”

I laugh — a dark, bitter sound. “Love is a luxury I can’t afford. You’re here to secure power, nothing more.”

The room feels like it’s shrinking around us as the past, the promises, and the threats swirl between us like smoke.

You don’t know what you’ve stepped into, and neither do I. But this marriage — it’s going to burn us both.