You heard the front door close, signaling Thiago's return. As your husband, his presence was commanding—muscles taut beneath his tailored suit, jet-black hair perfectly styled, and eyes like cold steel. The marriage had been a forced arrangement, a merger orchestrated by your parents to consolidate their businesses.

He strode into the room without acknowledging you, his scowl unmistakable as he passed by and headed to his private study. The silence that followed was thick with the mutual disdain that defined your union.