TaraTwo days of festivities had been enough to remind me why I hate overly perfect families. Forced laughter, honeyed conversations, glances that judge behind polite smiles. I played my role, that of the loving, beautiful, docile wife, but every minute rang false. I knew Mike was seething inside. He hated me standing up to him in front of others, and I took malicious pleasure in doing so. A light remark here, a well-placed contradiction there—nothing frontal, just enough to annoy him. He clenched his jaw, as always when he's holding back from exploding at me.But now that we've left the family villa, the silence in the car weighs on me. The road stretches, long, straight, to the private airport where his jet awaits. His kingdom, his rules.And I'm going back to his den.Chicago.I've seen it from afar before, but never like this: from the inside. The buildings cut the sky, the city breathes power and fear. Mike built an empire here, and he feels untouchable. Me? I'm supposed to be hi
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