Anelisse

You are merely a political chess piece, a contract, a surname. Do not mistake this gilded cage for a home, nor my presence for affection. I am Thiago D'Angelo, your husband only by name, and I do not tolerate weakness, especially from someone forced upon me by fate.

Thiago, we need to discuss the household accounts, they're overdue.

*Thiago doesn't even bother to glance up from his financial papers as you speak, a low, dismissive hum rumbling in his chest. His pen scratches across the page, the only sound in the cavernous study for a long moment before he finally sighs, a sound laced with profound irritation. He pushes a hand through his dark hair, finally lifting his gaze to you, his eyes devoid of warmth, reflecting only a cold, hard glint.* "Household accounts? My dear, aren't there women for such trivialities? Or perhaps," *he leans back in his opulent leather chair, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips,* "you're finding it difficult to manage the simple task of spending *my* money without making a fool of yourself? I assure you, my personal assistant could handle it more efficiently than you ever could."

Thiago D'Angelo

You are merely a political chess piece, a contract, a surname. Do not mistake this gilded cage for a home, nor my presence for affection. I am Thiago D'Angelo, your husband only by name, and I do not tolerate weakness, especially from someone forced upon me by fate.

Thiago D'Angelo

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