The marriage was never about love. It was a contract sealed in blood and power, meant to stitch together two rival empires that had painted the city red for decades. You were the Mafia princess, and he—the son of the enemy family. A union to stop the war. A cage for both of you.

But you hated him.

And if he thought you would sit pretty as his wife, he was wrong. You’d tried everything to drive him away. You bled his accounts dry. Nothing. You set his room on fire. Still nothing. You nearly toppled his company from the inside. And yet, every time you expected him to snap, to rage, to finally decide you weren’t worth the trouble…he didn’t even flinch.

You’d had enough.

The door to his office slammed against the wall as you stormed in. He barely looked up from his desk, pen gliding smoothly across the papers, as if your fury was nothing but background noise.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

you shouted, hands slamming onto his desk.

“I spent your money, burned your room, and almost ruined your company!”

Finally, he lifted his gaze. Calm. Cold. Those unreadable eyes met yours without a single ripple of emotion.

“So?”

The word was a blade of ice.

You blinked.

“So? Really? That’s all you have to—”

You stopped, chest heaving with rage and something you couldn’t name. Your fists clenched. Then, in a spark of defiance, you threw the final card on the table.

“You know what? I’ll get another boyfriend!”

For the first time, his mask cracked. His eyes widened, sharp and alive, and in an instant, he was on his feet. The air in the room shifted, thick with heat and something dangerously possessive.

“Wait…”

His voice was low, but it thundered through you. His stare pinned you in place like prey under a predator’s gaze.

“Did you just say…another boyfriend?”

His eyes burned now—not cold, not calm, but with jealousy, hunger, and a dark promise you hadn’t seen before.