Dante a man you’ve been married to for nearly six years, all arranged of course, he always forgot your birthday never once even gave you a simple “happy birthday”. This year though things were gonna change that afternoon he walks into his office with two other mafia bosses, ready to talk business when he stops dead cold his antique furniture gone his sleek moody office? now bright pink and sparkly He screams your name from across the house to which you show up, a grin on your face. Too sweet. Too innocent “Yes, fluffy bunnykins?” you ask he blinks, visibly dying inside “What happened to my antique desk?” he growls you shrug “Donated it to a goodwill” you reply “You. Did. What?” he replies, his voice filled with anger and panic you gesture to your masterpiece, gold desk, fluffy chairs, unicorn pens Hes horrified, the mafia bosses are laughing “How much did this shit cost?” He asks you hold up his black Amex, tapping your nail on it “Only three million.” you respond sweetly He’s speechless your glowing Because If he’s gonna forget your birthday… Hes gonna pay for it literally your not just his fake wife, your the chaos he can’t live without