THE MAFIA KING'S LITTLE PET

Esmeralda Saviano hummed to herself as she unlocked the door to her house, she had good news, no, great news, and she couldn’t wait to share it with her husband, Diego. Today was amazing. After weeks of interviews, she’d landed a prestigious job at a tech company that she’d been dreaming about for months. A new chapter of her life was about to begin, and for the first time in a while, it felt like everything was falling into place. As she stepped inside, Esmeralda's eyes roamed the living room, her heart still light with excitement, but something was off. There, in the middle of the living room, was a pile of discarded clothes, both male and female. Her brows knitted together in confusion. Diego never leaves his clothes lying around, she thought. He was obsessed with order and control. The uneasy feeling gnawing at her stomach tightened, but she brushed it off. Maybe he was doing laundry and got distracted? She tried to reason with herself, but the knot in her gut only grew tighter. Her heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she moved further into the house, her pulse quickening. “Diego?” she called, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet space. No answer. Then she heard it. A sound that made her freeze in place, low moaning, unmistakable and intimate, drifting down from upstairs. Her heart slammed in her chest. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, disbelief clouding her thoughts. She strained to listen, praying she had misheard, that it was some other sound, a trick of her mind. But then she heard it again, his voice, mingled with a woman’s, both thick with pleasure. Esmeralda’s breath hitched, her pulse thundering in her ears. For a moment, she felt as though she were floating outside of herself. She stumbled toward the stairs, her mind racing as fragments of questions and doubts flashed through her head. She wanted to be wrong. Please, God, let me be wrong. The stairs creaked beneath her feet as she ascended, her hand gripping the banister so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her legs trembled with each step, and yet she moved forward, driven by a mixture of fury and heartbreak. When she reached the top of the stairs, the sounds became clearer, gasps, the slap of skin against skin, and soft whispers that made bile rise in her throat. Every cell in her body screamed at her to turn around, to leave, to pretend she hadn’t heard a thing. But Esmeralda couldn’t stop now. She needed to know. She stood in front of the bedroom door, her hand hovering over the handle. Her heart pounded so violently it felt like it might burst from her chest. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. There, tangled in the sheets, was Diego, her husband of two years, with his secretary, Bianca, half-naked beneath him. The smell of sweat and s*x hung in the air, nauseating in its intensity. For a moment, everything around Esmeralda seemed to go silent, the world narrowing to the sight before her. Diego, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, looked up at her, his eyes wide with shock. Bianca gasped, her hands scrambling to pull the sheets up to cover her exposed body. For a second, no one spoke. The weight of the betrayal hung in the air, crushing, suffocating. “Esme,” Diego muttered, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and panic as he rolled off the bed and reached for his briefs. “What the hell are you doing here?” Esmeralda couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Her mind was reeling, trying to process the scene in front of her. The man she had loved, trusted, and shared a life with, had shattered everything in a single, vile moment. She blinked, hoping, praying, that somehow this was a nightmare she would wake up from. “What am I doing here?” Her voice trembled, low and dangerous, as she finally found the words. Diego shoved his legs into his briefs and crossed the room in a few quick strides, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her out of the bedroom. The shock of his touch snapped her out of her daze, fury flaring in her chest. “What the f**k, Esmeralda?” he hissed, his voice low and furious as he pushed her back into the hallway, closing the door behind them. “Why would you just barge in like that?” She stared at him, disbelief etched across her face. “Why would I—” She broke off, unable to finish the thought. Her voice cracked as the betrayal sliced through her chest like a blade. “Diego, you were.... you’re f*****g your secretary! In our bed!” Diego’s face twisted into a scowl, his grip on her arm tightening. “You’re my wife, Esmeralda. That is your role. Accept it.” For a moment, she thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. But the words settled into her skin, burning with their cruelty. She yanked her arm free from his grasp, her heart pounding with rage. “Accept it?” Esmeralda’s voice shook, her disbelief morphing into seething anger. “You want me to accept that you’ve been screwing your secretary behind my back? That you’re betraying me in our bed, and I’m supposed to just accept it?” Her heart hammered in her chest, a storm of emotions brewing inside her. “Diego, how long has this been going on? How long have you been lying to me?” Diego straightened, his expression cold and detached, as if her anguish were merely an inconvenience to him. He crossed his arms over his chest, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “As my wife, Esmeralda, you must respect my decisions. If I choose to spend my time with another woman, that’s my right.” Esmeralda’s mouth fell open, her blood turning to ice. “Your right?” she spat, the words almost choking her. “I’m your wife, not some object you own.” He didn’t even flinch. “You should be grateful I brought her here, to the house, instead of some cheap hotel. I’m doing you a favor, keeping it discreet.” Esmeralda’s hand flew before she could stop herself, slapping him across the face. The slap echoed through the hallway as her palm connected with Diego’s face, sending his head jerking to the side. Diego’s hand went to his cheek immediately, his eyes blazing with fury. “You bastard,” she seethed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “So this is who you really are? All this time, my parents were right about you. They warned me, but I was too blinded by love, by the man I thought you were, to see the signs.” Diego’s face contorted with rage. He lunged forward, grabbing her by the arm so hard it made her wince. “You think you can just hit me?” His voice was low and menacing, his grip tightening painfully. “Don’t you ever do that again. I’m your husband, and you will respect me, whether you like it or not.” Esmeralda’s breath caught in her throat as he yanked her back toward the bedroom door, her heels skidding on the hardwood floor. Panic began to rise inside her chest as she tried to pull away from him, but Diego’s grip was ironclad, his fury giving him strength. “Diego, let go of me!” she shouted, her voice cracking with fear as she struggled against him. “What the hell are you doing?"