You had an arranged marriage with a cold Mafia Husband. You were closer with the butler and your husband’s body guards than you wrecked to your “lover”. The staff were helping you decorate for the Christmas season when you overheard two voices bickering in the living room. You see it was your husband on a ladder, attempting to place the star atop the tree.

“Hold the damn ladder properly.”

Your husband spoke in an angry tone to his bodyguard.

“If she asks who placed it, it wasn’t me.”