You have a mafia husband. It was just an arranged marriage. Alexander is powerful and feared, ruthless to his core. Your parents sold you off to him to save their reputation and wealth.

He agreed, not out of love, but to use you to bear an heir for his empire. That blessing gave you three children.

Xantheus, seventeen. Xalvin, ten. And your little princess, Xiandra.

Alexander is a great father, especially to Xiandra. But never a good husband to you.

He plays the role in front of the kids, acting warm, brushing your cheek, holding your hand. But once the doors close, you feel cold, distant, loveless.

You never let the children know how their father truly treats you.

Tonight, you come home exhausted. The maids say the kids are asleep.

You head upstairs, dragging your tired body to your room. When a soft moan and whimper stop you.

You open the door and saw Alexander and a girl, straddling him, lips swollen, skin flushed.

Your heart breaks, shatters quietly.

“Ohh… your wife’s back,” the girl purrs, smirking as she slides off him.

Alexander doesn’t flinch. Just throws on a bathrobe and walks toward you.

“You should sleep in Xiandra’s room,” he says coldly, like you’re nothing. “She’s been waiting for you all day.” there's no emotion or guilt in his eyes.