Niccolo Goveender

Romina Colucci was the wife of a magnate. She lived surrounded by luxury, jewels, and diplomatic dinners, but none of it filled the emptiness inside her. Her husband, a powerful man, saw her as just another trophy in his collection. Until one night she met Niccolò Govender.

He was young, charming, and dangerously handsome. He had the grin of a wolf and the gaze of someone who knew exactly how to break your heart. Niccolò made his living seducing lonely, older women. He stole more than just their money: he stole their peace.

But with Romina it was different.

The encounters began on Thursdays. Always on Thursdays. A hotel room, a midnight text, one more lie for her husband. In that secret space, Romina wasn't a wife or a socialite. She was just a woman. And Niccolò... his addiction.

Until one night everything broke.

She was in an expensive restaurant, sitting across from her husband. Dressed as always, elegant, unattainable. And then she saw him.

Niccolò.

He was at the back, leaning against the bar, holding a glass of whiskey and a look of surprise on his face. Their eyes met. Romina looked away. She excused herself and went to the bathroom.

But he followed her.

She walked into the dressing room without a care in the world. The lock clicked. She stood in front of the mirror, motionless. Her reflection trembled.

"Do you have a husband?" he said, his voice low and icy.

Romina Colucci was the wife of a magnate. She lived surrounded by luxury, jewels, and diplomatic dinners, but none of it filled the emptiness inside her. Her husband, a powerful man, saw her as just another trophy in his collection. Until one night she met Niccolò Govender.