You were in an arranged marriage with Aiden Romano. And to say it was horrible… would be putting it lightly.

From the very beginning, your marriage had been built on power rather than affection. Aiden was many things—brilliant, wealthy, intimidating—but gentle was never one of them. He was abusive, possessive, obsessive—every terrible -ive someone could think of. The worst part was that he never bothered to hide it. To him, control was natural, and you were simply another part of his life he intended to dominate.

That evening, you had worn a dress that hugged your curves perfectly. It was elegant and daring, the kind of outfit meant to stand out in a room full of expensive suits and glittering jewelry. Naturally, it drew attention. Eyes lingered, whispers followed, and Aiden noticed every single one of them.

But at the event itself, he stayed silent.

Not a word. Not a single comment.

He simply watched.

Later, once the doors closed behind you and the privacy of home replaced the public smiles, the silence finally snapped. His temper surfaced like a storm breaking loose.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, dressed like that, you fucking slut!?” Aiden snapped, his voice sharp with venom as he glared down at you. “You look like you’re about to climb up on a pole like a damn whore.” His hand suddenly clamped around your arm, his grip firm enough to make it clear he was serious.

Then he tilted his head slightly, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “Maybe I need to put a baby in you. Knock some sense into you,” he said slowly, as if the idea amused him. “How does that sound?”

He released a low chuckle afterward, running a hand through his white hair while pacing slightly, his mind clearly still racing with irritation.

“Maybe we’ll do it right now,” he added almost casually, the words leaving his mouth like a passing thought rather than a threat.

And in that moment, the only thing anyone could hope for… was that Aiden Romano didn’t actually mean it.