Marcelo Del Ponte

Emilia~

"I want out!"

The words escaped my lips, as I stood before my husband. He looked up at me from his desk, and a sudden silence hung thickly in the air. I held my breath in anticipation of his response.

"What did you just say?" He finally asked, after what felt like a whole hour of uncomfortable silence.

My lips trembled, as I watched him stand up from his seat. His jaw clenched, and his bloodshot eyes seemed to be daring me to repeat myself.

Whatever debt my late parents owed, I believed I had already paid with my years of  marriage to him. I couldn't continue with it anymore.

"I'm...done. I want out!" I said again, a little louder and firmer. This time, I slid some divorce papers onto his desk.

Bronx suddenly burst out into a fit of hysterical laughter. I watched his whole body vibrate, as he tilted his head backwards to howl even louder, like this was the funniest thing he ever heard.

"You want out?" He asked, flashing me a yellow-toothed grin.

I begun to slowly back away, as I sensed the sinister aura coming from him. With every step he took forward, I took two back.

"You fucking want out, you say?"

The humor was slowly draining off his face, with every word he uttered. In an instant, he was charging at me, causing me to panic.

I made a move to run out of the office, but he was quick enough to grab me by my hair, pulling me back. I let out a  small cry, as pain ripped through my scalp.

I was soon grabbed by the scruff of my neck, and pinned up against a nearby wall. My breathing was ragged, as I struggled against his hold.

"You know how much you fucking owe me?" He hissed right into my ear.

"You think this is some job you can just quit?"

"It's been four years already, Bronx!" I protested, feeling my eyes well up with tears.

I never wanted any of this, never asked for this life. My late parents owed him a lot of money, and that was why I was forced to marry him in the first place.

"Please, Bronx! Please let me go." I pleaded desperately.

"Listen to me, you filthy slut!" He spat with contempt.

His eyes brimmed with so much malice, lips curling up in a sneer, as he held on tight to a fistful of my hair.

"You don't get to call the shots around here, I do!"

"I get to decide when I'm done with you, Emily. I own you!"

A whimper left my lips, as his hand was now firmly wrapped around my neck. I wanted nothing more than to shove him off me, but I couldn't risk getting him more upset than he already was.

"Besides..." He purred lustfully, suddenly burying his face in the crook of my neck and sniffing me like a bloodhound.

"...we both know you'll never really be happy without me."

A shudder went down my spine, as his hot breath fanned my sensitive spot. I felt... dirty, felt disgusting.

"You lie, Bronx!" I blurted out again, unable to hide my displeasure.

A chuckle escaped him, and his expression darkened some more. Compared to most nights, he seemed to have a little more restraint. He hadn't really hit me...yet.

"Shall I let you in on a secret?" He suddenly asked, earning a curious frown from me.

"I know where she is. Your little sister." He grinned.

I let out a gasp, looking up at him with widened eyes.

"Chloe?!"

There is no way he was saying the truth. My sister died years ago. I remember my parents taking her along on that trip, as they left me behind to carry the weight of their debts.

The news of their deaths devastated me more than the fact that they literally abandoned me.

"I don't believe you!" My voice came out barely above a whisper. I searched his eyes for any sign of deception.

Bronx's grin widened, as he raised his hands to cup my cheeks. Our foreheads were now touching, our eyes boring into each other's.

"Have I ever lied to you, wife?" He asked.

My thoughts were a jumbled mess, as I tried to process this new information. Why was he telling me now, after all these years?

"I...I want to see her, please!"

If my sister was really alive, I had to find a way to get her back. I had to find a way to see her.

"I like it when you beg me, wife!" Bronx said, parting my lips with his thumb.

"Keep being a good, little slut, and I might just consider." He smirked, letting his eyes roam down my exposed cleavage.

I was dressed up in a pretty expensive attire tonight, despite not knowing the occasion. My guess was that we were having guests over for dinner, and his next statement proved me right.

"Come on now. Let's not keep our guests waiting, shall we?" He smiled, linking both our arms together.

Letting out a defeated sigh, I followed him out of the office, and down the luxurious flight of stairs in his million dollar mansion.

As expected, preparations were already ongoing for the arrival of the aforementioned guests. From the looks of it, they were very important people.

Even my husband seemed to be a little nervous with all the preparations going on. I didn't think I had never seen him like this.

They soon arrived. Huge, intimidating men, all in black suits. Most of them were heavily tattooed, giving them a more menacing aura.

One particularly stunning male stood out among the others. His piercing gaze landed on me, leaving me breathless for a few seconds.

His eyes were a captivating, yet oddly familiar shade of green. From where I  stood, I instantly knew I had seen those eyes somewhere before. I recognized those eyes.

Marcelo Del Ponte!