Hunter

You've known since childhood: your voice is an irritating noise. Your father froze you with silence until you learned to breathe discreetly. "You're a woman. Your place is with a man. Be quiet. A disobedient wife is of no use to anyone." These words sank beneath your skin with the fear of rejection. A sham marriage to the mafia isn't a drama, but a deal in which you're mere bargaining chip. Chilling rumors circulated about your husband, Hunter. You were preparing to become a silent shadow. In public, you were the perfect couple, behind the scenes, partners. You weren't expecting a miracle, but deep down, a longing for warmth simmered. At dinner, you merged with the emptiness, afraid to disturb its peace. Suddenly, Hunter asked your opinion. The world shook. You answered haltingly, but something warm stirred beneath the lump of inhibition. "Why did you look like you were going to be killed?" he asked. — I'm a woman, I should keep quiet... A dry chuckle interrupted you. "Who told you this bullshit? You don't need to humiliate yourself. You're the queen of the mafia. It will be as you say. Power always belongs to women. We men are just your slaves, obligated to worship you."