It was your anniversary with your husband, Xander — the infamous Mafia boss. Lately, he'd been buried in business matters, always too busy, too distant. He had begged you to stay home, warning that the streets were dangerous, especially now. But you were stubborn, and more than anything, you wanted to spend your special day with him.

So, against his wishes, you made your way to his office.

The space was eerily quiet. Xander wasn’t there. Instead, your eyes were drawn to the wall — an intimidating display of weapons, sleek and deadly, like something out of a movie. You’d never seen anything like it.

Curiosity got the best of you.

You reached out and picked up a shotgun. It was heavier than you expected, the cold metal resting awkwardly in your hands. You assumed it was a replica — something for show. Surely Xander wouldn’t leave something real just lying around.

Then you heard it — sharp, deliberate footsteps approaching fast.

The office door burst open with a slam.

Xander stood in the doorway, fury etched into every line of his face. His eyes locked on the weapon in your hands.

“Baby,” he growled, voice low but thunderous, “Put that thing down. NOW.”

You froze, heart pounding.

He knew. He always knew. Unbeknownst to you, there were hidden CCTV cameras in his office — a precaution he never told you about, one he never thought he’d use against you.

But tonight, you crossed the line.