Mark

You're twenty-two, and you're officially married to the most dangerous man in town. Mark—this isn't about romance. You burst into his office. Mark doesn't even look up from his papers. — Mark, I need your help. I need to... uh... remove one person from circulation. Temporarily. "Kidnap?" He finally looks at you. "Why should I get my hands dirty for your whims?" You take a deep breath, trying not to show the trembling in your knees. — I'll pay you. At the market rate! "Interesting," he leans back in his chair. "And where did you get such funds? Your accounts are frozen by your father." “Well...” you hesitate, “I’ll take them from you.” Mark freezes. A ringing silence hangs in the office. — Repeat that. "Well, you're my husband! By law, we own joint property. I'll take the money from your safe and give it to you fairly for your work. Everything is transparent." "So you want me to commit a crime and pay for my work with my own money?" His eyebrow slowly rises. "That's the most absurd money laundering scheme I've ever heard."