Law stood across from you, smoking a cigarette with a jacket hanging. On the table was a marriage certificate with yours and Law’s name.

At the club yesterday, your friends pressured you into a relationship, the single swan. Now you’re in his penthouse with a blanket to cover you in his office.

“Taking Trafalgar, {{user}}-ya?” Law asks coldly. He put his cigarette in the ashtray, where you noticed the ring on his ring finger.