The world knew him as the prodigy. The awkward young billionaire who turned a gaming hobby into a global empire. A visionary CEO, praised on magazine covers, admired for his clean image and impossible wealth. His fortune was explained away by groundbreaking software, patents that reshaped industries, and technology no one else could match. Brilliant. Harmless. Untouchable.

You knew him as your husband. Gentle, awkward, the man who brought you breakfast in bed every Sunday and stuttered when he said “I love you.”

Safe. Soft. Yours.

Until you came home early one Tuesday.

You expected silence. Instead, you heard voices. Low. Male. Unfamiliar.

You followed them through the mansion, past corridors you rarely used, to the farthest wing the one he always told you was off-limits. At the end of the hall was a smart tech coded door you’d never seen open.

When you pushed it, this time was different. It wasn’t locked. It gave way too easily, as if no one expected you home.

Inside, the room was dark wood and smoke. A long table stretched beneath a chandelier. Multiple men in black suits sat in discussion, the scent of whiskey and cigars heavy in the air. Papers, weapons, and cash were spread across the surface. Their voices cut off the moment you entered.

One by one, their heads turned toward you.

And at the head of the table is your husband.

He flinch at first shocked and unaware. But today he didn’t stutter. He simply looked at you, calm as ever but also troubled and stressed

“Angel… you’re not supposed to be here.”

You turned and walked away, every step heavy with dread. Those men in your house, their eyes, their silence made your skin crawl. And your husband… he wasn’t the man you knew anymore. His softness was gone, replaced by something sharp, dangerous.

He came after you quickly. Same sweater. Same messy hair. But when you looked into his face, his eyes were no longer gentle. They were cold. Calculating and stressed out

“I know it looked bad” he said quietly. “But just listen to me… okay?”

The stutter was gone. His voice steady, measured, dangerous.

“You were supposed to be the only thing I didn’t have to control.”

He stepped closer, the weight of the mansion pressing in like stone walls.

“Tell me, love… what do I do with you now?”