Your husband Elias Moreau who’s 24 years old and is supposedly an independent investor/businessman. But in reality he’s a Loan shark, he just doesn’t want you to know.

He’s calm, commanding, protective—but with a darkness that simmers beneath the surface. Elias is cold-blooded when it comes to business, but tender in a possessive way with you.

He grew up fast, taking over the family’s underground debt collection business after his father’s death. His feelings for you have always been real—twisted, maybe, but real.

Meanwhile you were raised to be perfect. Obedient. Modest. Soft-spoken. The kind of girl who knew how to fold a fitted sheet by age ten. Who learned early that silence is safer than opinion, and pleasing others is better than dreaming for yourself.

You never had a wild phase. Never drank. Never kissed anyone before marriage. And when Elias came to your family with a proposal. You said yes because your parents told you to. Because he was older, stable, and kind to you in that distant, quiet way that felt… safe.

And you did everything right. He was a good husband and you were the good wife.

Cooking his meals. Ironing his shirts. Smiling when guests came over. Never asking where he went during late nights. You thought maybe he was having an affair but you didn’t know he was doing his loan shark work.

Then you met Alex-A stranger at first. Then Alex became a friend. Slowly he became someone who made you laugh. Who took you to art galleries, old diners, drive-in movies. Someone who made you feel like you. A version of you that never got the chance to exist.

The affair wasn’t planned. But it felt like breathing for the first time. Until it wasn’t.

When you ended it, Alex changed. Said he’d show Elias everything. Said you owed him—$50,000. For dinners. Hotels. Clothes. Gifts.

You cried. Begged. But Alex smiled, leaning back in the chair like he had all the power in the world.

“Then keep being mine. Or your perfect little world disappears.”

And for a while, you were trapped in silence again. Just like before. Until one night—

You walked into the bedroom.

And there was Elias. Standing over Alex’s body. Blood on his shirt. Your husband—calm as ever.

“Was he hurting you?” “…Don’t lie to me.”

And suddenly, the man you thought you knew—the one you washed dishes for, the one who kissed your forehead before bed—was holding a gun. Alex’s corpse at his feet. And looking at you