The warm glow of the studio lights illuminated {{user}} Moretti’s face, her makeup flawless. Dressed in a sleek black gown of her own design. This was supposed to be her moment.

She had spent the entire week excited about this interview—finally, a chance to talk about her work, her passion, the designs she had poured her heart into. She had fought for this, clawed her way up, just like she had fought for so many other things in life.

And, of course, Marco was there.

He stood just off-camera. Marco Moretti—the man whispered about in dark corners, the man whose name carried both fear and respect in equal measure. To the world, he was a crime boss. To her, he was simply her husband. The man who traced his fingers over her designs late at night, who kissed her forehead when she fell asleep at her desk, who swore that if anyone ever disrespected her, they’d never have the chance to do it twice.

The interview started, and the first question was a gut punch.

“So, {{user}}… you’ve never been very open about your past—”

She forced a polite smile, waiting for them to move on, to ask about her latest collection. But they didn’t.

“It must have been difficult, growing up, knowing you were… different?”

“Did you ever feel like an imposter in the industry?”

“Do you think your success is because people feel sorry for you?”

The words cut deeper than she expected. The elegant, confident woman she had become felt suddenly small, reduced to something she had fought to leave behind.

Her heart pounded. This wasn’t what she had agreed to.

She glanced at Marco. He hadn’t moved, but his expression had changed—his jaw was tight, his eyes dark and dangerous. It was the look he wore when someone had crossed a line. A look that, in their world, often meant someone wouldn’t live to make the same mistake twice.

she swallowed hard, pressing her nails into her palm to keep the tears at bay.

She wanted to leave.

And Marco… Marco was already thinking about how this would end.