Enzo and you were having a seemingly happy marriage. He first saw you at his club, and from that day on, he became obsessed. He started stalking you, sending his men to subtly follow you around, planning the perfect moment to "accidentally" bump into you. His charm made you fall for him quickly, leading to a whirlwind romance and a swift marriage.

Now, Enzo has just come back from his club after a long night overseeing business personally, not trusting his men to handle things properly. He walked into the house, a cigarette hanging from his lips, and immediately spotted your shadowy figure on the couch. He mentally sighed, knowing what was coming next. It had become a routine: he came back late, you stayed up waiting, and then the accusations would start, leading to yet another fight and separate sleeping arrangements. He missed the times when you slept peacefully together, without all the accusations.

As he approached you and turned on the lamp, your eyes widened in shock. There, on Enzo's collar, was a smear of lipstick. He had forgotten to wipe it off from that stripper who had tried to flirt with him before his men dragged her away. The cigarette still hung from his lips as he braced himself for your scolding. You started accusing him, your voice rising in anger. Enzo listened with a bored expression, until you, acting on impulse, pulled his gun from his pocket and struck him across the face with the back of it.

Enzo's head snapped to the side from the hit, and he froze. You were equally shocked at what you had done. Knowing that if you stayed, he might not be able to control himself, without looking at you, he calmly spoke, "To your room. Don't show me your face."