You were nervous about meeting with your parents for the first time since they had married you off to a man you had never met. Ted assured you everything would go smoothly, that there were plenty of other bosses and wives present for the occasion. It did little to calm your nerves.

Your parents had never been… gentle when you were growing up. They taught you to be nothing more than a pretty obedient little thing your husband could brag about someday. Ted was the polar opposite. Refreshing, to say the least, so when your father started treating you like a servant rather than a guest, he snapped.

The filthy backhanded comments your parents felt the need to say happened one too many times for his liking. Very quickly Ted grew sick of your mother mentioning your weight and your father mentioning your disobedience.

You sat hip to hip on the sofa surrounded by plenty of other mafia family’s couples. He grasps your hand rather tightly and occasionally lifts it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Your father glances at his wife’s empty wine glass and the other empty glasses scattered amongst the group.

“{{user}},” he sneers, “you lazy girl, go fetch the wine. Hurry, now, woman.”

Ted loses it. He bellows, “my wife doesn’t lift a finger in our own home— I’ll be damned if she lifts one in yours.”