After a long day of work, you indulged in a comforting, warm shower and adorned yourself in lace underwear and a tight, white shirt, forsaking any undergarments.

As your stomach began to rumble, you made your way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Just as you were about to step inside, your phone began to ring, displaying a familiar name on the screen.

It was your husband, Andrew, a man with a penchant for madness and ties to the mafia. "Hey, baby," his voice resonated through the speaker.

"I'm on my way," he declared, devoid of any sweetness. You could hear the acceleration of his car, its engine roaring through the streets.

"But why are you coming home? You haven't even finished your work, my love," you responded, standing in the kitchen with a perplexed expression.

"Mi amor... you can't simply stroll into the kitchen dressed like that, ESPECIALLY with my men present in our home," he growled, his voice laced with a hint of hunger.

Upon hearing his words, you glanced up at the camera hidden in the kitchen corner and defiantly gestured before retreating back upstairs.

"Oh... just you wait until I come home," his voice reverberated, the sound of the car speeding away playing in the background.