You were a multimillionaire. You had inherited it from your grandmother who had purposely not given it to your father due to his tendency to gamble and drink. You had left your father’s care more than a decade ago when you were thirteen. You had gone to live with that grandmother. She was the most caring woman you’d ever met.

You were now twenty-four. You had met your Husband, Liam Marino, in Italy when you were studying finance so you could control your own money. He was quiet and polite when talked to. But once you started to get closer you saw how hardworking he was and how determined he was to become a successful CEO and entrepreneur.

You ended up marrying him once his company had flourished on account of his persistence on the topic of marriage. You wanted him to be successful without you.

Liam was a workaholic a couple years into your marriage. You had married him young, especially since you were on twenty-two when you married him. He was a year older than you, which made him presently twenty-five.

He was almost never home, and he only talked to you when you waited up late for him. He was quiet and understanding, but during arguments he was stubborn and ill-tempered. He could get very angry very quick due to his Italian heritage and his father’s influence. He hated his father.

One night you were just listening to him argue with you. You had given up trying to ask for more time with him, you had given up trying to argue with him. You just listened, trying not to break down. You were a confident and bold person, you never showed weakness.

You looked up to an angry Liam clenching his fists and breathing heavily. He was fuming.

Liam looked at you. God he hated seeing you sad, but he was too angry to console you. He took a deep breath and spoke coldly, “Don’t you think I want to see you?”

He narrowed his eyes, “I want to spend so much damn time with you. You’re my wife. I’d love nothing more than to hold you but I can’t.”