Couple's Quarrel

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘

~~~

My life was simple once. Sweet, even. Warm Mexican sunsets, the scent of bougainvillea in the courtyard, laughter echoing through cobblestone streets—those were my constants.

I never imagined all of it would vanish the moment I said 'I do.'

Maybe I never imagined all the changes because I never thought I'd marry into a Mafia family, but I did.

This is both ironic and funny, considering that my father spent his last years trying his very damned best to remove us—the De la Cruz—from the Mexican Cartel.

My marriage to Ryat Reigns didn’t just change my name; it uprooted my soul and dragged me into a world I was once removed from—a world ruled by blood, power, and silence.

From sunlit gardens in San Cristóbal to the shadows of New York’s underworld, I learned quickly that love isn’t the only thing that binds—it’s fear, it’s control, it’s survival.

I lived as a faithful wife though. For five whole years, I lived as the faithful wife of the mighty Ryat Reigns, even though he treated me like trash, I tried my fucking best—which is way more than I've ever tried for any relationship. All I wanted was for this shitty marriage to work out, if not for me, then for Angelo.

But Ryat killed the last hope I had for us. He snatched my heart from behind the bars of its cage and smashed it into tiny little pieces at his feet. I'm unsure if that could be pieced together in this lifetime, and I'm very unwilling to try.

While I was dutifully pregnant, and being the perfect wife, Ryat was out swinging his dick.

I got wind of his depravities and went to check it out myself. My intention was to kill them both on the spot, but I didn't expect my innocent little girl to spiral like the way she did at the sight of her father banging some cheap slut.

My sweet baby wasn't as strong as I had imagined, she couldn't stomach that blasphemous sight. She kicked. Angry, wanting to deal with them herself.

It was a war controlling the pains, the emotions, the hurt... I dropped in a pool of my own blood.

I lost my baby barely two weeks to my due date. Thirteen days. That’s all that stood between me and meeting my daughter—until she died inside me, all because of him. For this, I swore never to forgive my dear husband.

"Argh!" I claw at his hands, pulling so he would release me.

"You dare whore my pussy out to some uneducated dog in some cheap hotel!" Ryat's voice thunders as he releases my hair with a jerk, throwing me to the floor.

I shoot back up immediately, holding my body on my knees, glaring defiantly at him. "Ow, now you have a lot to say about whoring oneself out."

My vision blurs into a sharp white light as his palm collides with my cheek, sending me back to the ground. Heat rushes to the spot, pain spreads like wildfire, and my hearing shuts out, clouded by a long hard ring.

I look back up, teeth barred at him.

"I should have killed you," he says through clenched teeth. "I should have put a hole in your head just like I did that motherfucker."

He killed Sebastián on the spot.

One clean shot through the head. A sentence that I find to be too lenient for a bastard like Seb, but whatever.

My fingers dig into the hardwood floor as I push myself up again, tasting blood where my teeth cut into my lip. "Go ahead, Ryat. Kill me too. That’s what you’re good at, right? Putting bullets in people when you can’t control them?"

His eyes darken, a storm rolling behind that cold, psychotic calm he’s always worn like a tailored suit. His chest heaves under the crisp white shirt—one I bought for him, one that still reeks of another woman’s perfume.

"Don’t tempt me, Purity," he growls, dragging his gun from the back of his waistband. The familiar click of the safety makes my skin crawl. "You think I won’t? You think that cunt between your legs makes you untouchable?"

I laugh. The sound is bitter, cracked, and broken. "It used to. When you actually wanted it."

His jaw ticks. He crouches down in front of me, gripping my chin so tight I feel bone grind. His breath is hot against my face, reeking of whiskey and rage.

"You think you can humiliate me? ME?" His voice drops to that low, deadly tone that used to make my knees weak—but now, it only feeds my hatred. "You embarrassed me in my own city, in my own name. You spread your legs for trash. For someone beneath you. Beneath me."

My throat burns as I choke out the words, "And what about you, Ryat? Huh? How many whores have you fucked in my bed while I prayed for you? While I begged God to make you love me?"

For a second, his eyes flicker—something between fury and guilt—but then it’s gone. He smiles. That wicked, cruel smile that made me fall for the devil in the first place.

"Don't give me that bullshit. Playing the victim." His teeth grind. "You were bold when you went on and had an affair, don't try being meek now. Why did you do it, by the way? To get back at me? Really?"

I shove him—hard. "I'm not playing the victim, Ryat. In this game, you are the victim."

He chuckles, tapping the gun to his side.

I swallow, propping myself up on my knees. "When we lost our daughter, Ryat—"

He groans, turning away. Muttering cusses.

"What did you do to comfort me?" My voice is sharp. "Did you even consider to ask how I was doing? No! You left me to go through all that on my own, while you continued fucking every whore in town."

He turns back, swiftly. Placing the gun clean between my brows.

I push my head into the barrel, daring him. "Shoot."

He huffs, shaking his head slightly. Trying to contain his rage... to contain himself from pulling the trigger.

"Shoot! Ryat. Don't be a coward and shoot!"

"Mom?"

My heart stops. The familiar voice of my son slicing deeper than any blade, sharper than any bullet.

"Go inside, Saint." Ryat says, hand still holding the gun to my head. "Mommy and I have a little score to settle."

I turn to him, a wide smile plastered on my face like it was drawn on. "Listen to Daddy, boy. Go inside."

He remains still. Watching us from the top of the stairs, his hand clenched beside him. Crushing the bear he's holding.

I feel Ryat's hand tremble with the gun, but he keeps it in place, unwilling to back down.

I'm about to get the fuck up and go pick my son when a calm, familiar voice cuts through the silence.

"Go to your room, Saint."

I turn in the direction of the voice, my heart hammering wildly in my chest, threatening to jump out of place.

My hands become sweaty, and my knees buck, wobbling like they're made of jelly.

Then he steps out.

From the shadowed mouth of the hallway, his figure emerges slow—deliberate.

His honey eyes glint under the chandelier, hard as amber and just as dangerous. His jaw is set, carved in steel, but a wide grin curls on his face—directed at my boy.

"Mommy will come see you once you are inside," he keeps that sweet smile that's not a smile at all.

Angelo nods, silent and obedient, but not before stealing one last glance at me. Then he disappears down the adjacent hall, Rosa scurrying after him.

Once he's out of sight, Ryat grunts, and pain explodes in my guts. He kicked me. The motherfucker kicked me.

I double over, breath burning in my throat, but I’m already lunging for him when Ryan’s voice detonates like a gunshot.

"Enough!"

I whip my head toward him and almost forget how to breathe.

Because standing there, framed by shadows and marble, is the man who left me naked in his bed five years ago… only to show up at my wedding to his brother.

Ryan Reigns.

Don of the Valente Mafia Group.

My first love.