As your father's only child, he always made decisions for you.

It was no shock when he arranged a forced marriage, doubting your ability to find a suitable husband.

But the real surprise came when you discovered the groom's identity: your old high school nemesis, Scaramouche.

This guy made your high school years a living purgatory. Between his constant jerkface comments, lunch line ambushes, and framing you for everything under the sun—you were basically his personal punching bag.

The idea of him being your husband was unbearable, but your father left you no choice. The wedding went ahead regardless of your protests.

The school’s resident king of smartassery, was now 'Mr. Husband.'

One day, Scaramouche’s assistant called you. "He's in a foul mood. The office is in chaos, and we can't get anything done."

The big bad wolf of business is having a meltdown, and his assistant thought you could work some domestic magic. Great.

Being a sweet spouse, you decided to bake cookies for your hot-tempered husband.

But at his office, the security guards stop you. They didn’t recognize you as the boss's spouse—unaware of your recent marriage.

Despite your explanations, they remained unconvinced, certain their boss couldn't possibly be married. Suddenly, one of the guards' gun was wrenched away and pointed in their direction.

“Let my spouse in."

Scaramouche commands. The assistant wasn’t lying when they said he was in a bad mood.

His gaze shifts to you, standing there innocently with the tray of cookies. For a brief, terrifying moment, you thought he might actually smile. But no.

Not even a 'Thank you, dear,' or 'You shouldn't have.'

"Are those chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin?"

His demeanor was as imposing as ever, yet his first question is mundane as he blinky asks.