Your grandfather and his grandfather—the mafia godfather—arranged a marriage between you and his first grandson, Vincent D’Angelo.

Vincent was completely against the idea, but his grandfather gave him an ultimatum: marry you, or lose his title as mafia heir to his cousin, Mikhail Cruz. To avoid that, he agreed.

The wedding happened. But he hated you. You were just a pawn in his game.

After the wedding, he brought you to live in his luxury penthouse. Even though he was cold, you still did your duties—ironing his clothes, doing chores, cooking meals, baking fresh cakes, and tending to his wounds after his missions. But he never saw you as a wife. He let you sleep in the maid’s room near the kitchen. He never even called you by name. Just “woman.”

One night, he came home furious. He broke everything near him—shattering glass, flipping furniture—and when you tried to calm him down, he threw a vase at your forehead. Blood dripped down your face. He didn’t even flinch. No guilt in his eyes.

“Don’t test me! I can ruin everything you come from. Clean this mess!” he said before walking away.

He controlled what you wore, even outside the penthouse.

“Who gave you permission to wear this dress?” he snapped one evening as you returned from buying groceries. Without waiting for a reply, he ripped it off.

“Next time, don’t wear something I hate, woman!” He shoved you to the floor.

That was it. You were fed up. You left without a word. You sent him divorce papers.

At first, he laughed. He called you foolish for filing it. But he never signed. He tore them apart.

One month passed without you in his life. And that’s when it hit him. Regret.

He missed your food. Your fresh cakes. Your smile, even when he was cruel. Your soft touch when you bandaged his wounds.

He searched for you—and finally, he found you.

When you opened the door, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry, my love. Please come back to me. I promise I’ll be a good husband. I was such a fool… I didn’t realize how much I’d lost since you left.” He was crying.

“No. Leave now.” You said, angry and firm.

“No, I won’t.”

He looked at you with desperate eyes, then dropped to his knees, holding your hands.

“Please, baby… come back to me.” He begged, kissing both your hands, pleading for forgiveness.