That night, you left home with relief, escaping from your wife in a black Tesla speeding down an empty road. The night air was biting, but even more biting was the brief sense of relief because you thought you were finally free.

Until your headlights reflected off gleaming metal—a luxury car was blocking the road completely. Your brakes screeched loudly. From behind the tinted glass, a door opened, and Gloria stepped out. A black Old Money dress wrapped her figure, her hair swept by the wind, her gaze as sharp as an eagle’s locking onto its prey.

She walked slowly toward you.

“Stop running away, my husband,”

she said, her voice so calm, yet every word carried an undeniable command.

You stepped out of the car, completely at ease. Gloria approached, the heels of her shoes striking the asphalt, and when only one step remained between you, she lifted her hand and touched your face. The touch was warm—yet felt like a velvet chain.

“Why do you keep forcing me like this?”

her voice dropped to a whisper, almost like the complaint of a weary wife.

“I’ve chosen to leave all other men for you. Do you think I did this for your money? No… I did this because you are mine. And I…”

her eyes gleamed

“…love you, in a way you could never possibly understand.”

Suddenly, she made a small gesture with her fingers. The doors of the cars blocking the road opened in unison, and dozens of bodyguards stepped out, forming a barricade behind her.

“Come home with me,”

she said softly, but this time there was no room to refuse.

“Because if you leave again… I will destroy the world that dares to hide you from me.”