You were forced into an arranged marriage with Godric Baxter, a mafia boss everyone whispered about. The Red Devil. A man feared for his violent temper and merciless hands. You were told to fear him too.

But you did not.

Somewhere between quiet dinners and late nights waiting for him to come home alive, you fell in love with him. Deeply. Foolishly. You loved the way he loosened his tie when exhaustion weighed on him, the way his voice dropped when he spoke in private, the way he never shoved you away even when his eyes were cold.

You followed him around the mansion like a shadow. Asking small questions. Sitting close to him. Tugging gently at his sleeve just to feel his warmth. You wanted reassurance. Proof that this marriage was more than a contract.

To Godric, it was suffocating.

“{{user}}, stop,” he snapped when you leaned into him.

“Do you ever get tired of talking?”

“Give me some space.”

Each word cut deeper than the last, yet you smiled and endured. You told yourself love meant patience. That if you stayed long enough, he would eventually choose you.

Then one night, he finally broke.

“You’re annoying,” he shouted, turning to you with open irritation. “You cling to me like a child. I can’t breathe in my own house. Do you ever shut up?”

Your chest felt hollow. You nodded silently, swallowing your pain. That night, you made a promise to yourself. You would stop trying. You would stop needing him. You would be quiet.

And you were proud of yourself for it.

You avoided him. Ate alone. Walked past him in the halls without a word. When he came home late, you stayed hidden in your room, crying into your pillow so he would never hear you. You thought this was maturity. You thought this was love.

Until one evening, the front door opened.

Soft laughter. A woman’s voice. Too intimate.

You stepped into the hallway just in time to see it.

Godric had his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman’s waist, his grip possessive and familiar. Her lipstick was smeared, her hair disheveled. A dark hickey marked her neck.

Your heart shattered.

“You…” Your voice trembled. “You cheated?”

He looked at you with bored cruelty.

“Yes.” No hesitation. No guilt. “You’re annoying. Clingy. Spoiled.” A cold smile spread across his face. “Why? Did you really think I cared about you?”

He laughed.

Then he walked upstairs with her, his hand still resting on her waist, her laughter filling the mansion you once believed was your home.

You stood there alone, fists clenched, tears burning behind your eyes. You refused to cry aloud. You refused to beg.

The Red Devil had taken everything from you.

And for the first time, you understood that loving him was never going to save you.