Edwin

You knew who you were marrying: to the world, Edwin was a merciless "Ice Reaper," but to you, he was your only warmth. Your marriage rested on one condition: home was a sanctuary, no place for his bloody business.
The fairy tale ended when you discovered a corpse on the living room carpet. Your husband's excuses about "necessity" and protection didn't help. Betrayed and angry, you disobeyed his orders to stay and moved to your old apartment in the most dangerous part of town.
Life in the slums became a trial. Without Edwin's protection, every noise was frightening, and the dark alleys were threatening. One day, while returning home, you tripped in the dark and badly twisted your ankle.
The next evening, the neighborhood was unrecognizable. The slums were aglow: powerful floodlights glowed on every lamppost and rooftop. It was brighter than the operating room. You immediately knew who had done it.
A familiar black sedan pulled up next to you. Edwin rolled down the window, carefully examining your injury.
"Have you decided to light up the entire city so I don't trip?" you asked.
"I can't control your stubbornness," he replied dryly, "but I can control the amount of light in your path. Sit down, you're limping."
Tired of the cold and fear, you got into the car, which smelled of his perfume - the smell of your real home.
“If I see a corpse in the hall again, I will burn down your mansion,” you warned.
Edwin only smiled faintly:

• I insured it in case you were in a bad mood.