The Mafia Forbidden Possession.

Haley’s hands trembled as she turned the knob, the weight of the grocery bags digging into her arms. As the door swung open, and the sight that met her nearly knocked the air from her lungs.

There he was.

Brute.

Her husband.

And sprawled across their living room couch, tangled in his arms, was a naked woman. Not the same one from last week. This one had raven-black hair, deep red lipstick smudged across her cheek, and a pair of long legs draped over Brute’s thighs as she let out a lazy, satisfied sigh.

Haley felt something inside her snap. She clenched the bags tighter before throwing them onto the floor, the impact sending fruits rolling in every direction.

The woman jumped, startled. Brute, on the other hand, barely turned his head, as if he’d already been expecting her.

“Really?” Haley’s voice shook with barely restrained fury. “Again?”

Brute exhaled and ran a hand through his disheveled dark hair, irritation flashing in his sharp green eyes. “You’re home early.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

The woman on his lap made a move to grab the discarded shirt on the couch, her gaze flickering between them. “Uh… maybe I should—”

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Haley snapped before turning back to Brute. “Get out.”

Brute sighed, stretching like he had all the time in the world, before pressing a lazy kiss to the woman’s bare shoulder. “You heard her, sweetheart. Get out.”

The woman hurriedly gathered her clothes, her heels clicking against the floor as she disappeared through the front door. The moment it shut, Haley’s composure cracked.

“I want a divorce.”

Brute scoffed, finally standing to his full height. He was tall, broad, and built like the bully and cheat that he was. His presence was suffocating, but Haley refused to back down.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, blinking. “What the hell do you mean, no?”

Brute stepped toward her, his emerald eyes narrowing. “I mean, no, Haley. You’re not getting a divorce.”

She let out a hollow laugh, disbelief swirling in her chest. “You don’t get to decide that! I’m done with this, Brute. I’m done with you bringing your whores into my home, humiliating me, and expecting me to just sit back and take it.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s not how this works.”

“Oh? And how does it work?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

Brute took another step closer, forcing her to tilt her head to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Haley. My wife. That doesn’t change because you’re throwing a tantrum.”

“A tantrum?” Her voice cracked, raw with frustration. “You’re unfaithful. You lie, cheat, and treat me like nothing more than a maid who cleans up after your mess. What exactly am I to you, Brute? A convenience? A trophy you can parade around while you screw whoever you want?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.

“Tell me!” she demanded, shoving at his chest. “Tell me what I am to you!”

He caught her wrists, his grip firm but not bruising. “You’re my wife,” he said, his voice lower now, more controlled. “And that means something.”

“It means nothing to you,” she whispered, feeling her anger give way to something colder. Something like exhaustion. “If it did, you wouldn’t keep doing this.”

Brute stared at her for a long moment before sighing, releasing her hands. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She laughed again, but this time, there was no humor in it. “Make it up to me? How? Another diamond necklace? A fancy dinner where you pretend to care? I don’t want your apologies, Brute. I want out.”

His face darkened. “You’re not leaving me.”

“You can’t force me to stay.”

“Can’t I?” His tone was laced with warning now, a promise of consequences if she tried.

A chill ran down her spine, but she refused to let it show. “You don’t own me.”

Brute leaned in, his breath ghosting over her cheek. “Don’t I?”

She swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. “Not anymore.”

Brute clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re making a mistake, Haley.”

“No, the mistake was thinking you’d ever change.” She took a step back, creating space between them. “I’ll have the papers drawn up.”

He smirked, slow and knowing. “Go ahead.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face before she could slap his hand away. “I think it’s cute that you believe I’ll ever sign them.”

Haley’s stomach twisted.

“You don’t have a choice,” she said, but the words felt empty now.

Brute let out a quiet chuckle. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You’re mine. ‘Til death do us part.”

The weight of his words settled between them, heavy and suffocating. Haley’s hands trembled, but she clenched them into fists to hide it.

“You’ll regret this,” she whispered.

His smirk didn’t falter. “We’ll see.”

With that, he turned, walking past her like the conversation had never happened. Like she hadn’t just asked for a divorce. Like her pain meant nothing.

And maybe, to him, it didn’t. But she was done. Brute thought she belonged to him. He was wrong. She inwardly swore she would find a way out.

Even if it killed her!

The night air was crisp against Haley’s skin as she stood on the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around herself. She had needed to step out, just for a moment. Being in that house—his house—felt suffocating. No matter how big it was, how luxurious, how grand, it was nothing more than a gilded cage.

She had spent the last hour walking around the block, trying to calm her mind, trying to breathe. But no amount of fresh air could wash away the reality of what her life had become.

When she finally returned, stepping through the grand double doors, the stench of smoke and cheap perfume hit her like a slap to the face.

Her stomach turned.