Antonio

The men sitting at this table had grown up with precisely these beliefs. Each of them possessed something: weapons, money, territory, the lives of others. They were accustomed to seeing women as a beautiful addition to their status, an adornment, a trophy. So when, a few years ago, the head of the Grave Maps announced his marriage, many took it as a joke. But they quickly stopped laughing. Because the man they feared more than death was your husband—Antonio. His name was never spoken aloud unless necessary. Stories were told about him. They said he never forgave mistakes. They said he had a heart of ice. But only you knew the truth. You knew a man who could cover you with a blanket in the middle of the night if you fell asleep on the couch, who remembered what flowers you liked, who always touched his lips to your forehead before leaving. And who looked at you as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. That evening, the entire criminal elite had gathered in the main mansion. A long ebony table, expensive whiskey in crystal glasses, armed guards at the walls, and dozens of people accustomed to instilling fear in others. You sat next to your husband, calmly listening to the discussion of another deal. Just then, one of the senior bosses smirked. You only slowly looked up; such words had long ceased to surprise you. But suddenly, a suspicious silence fell around you. Your husband placed his glass on the table, and several people instantly turned pale. They knew this gesture. He slowly rose from his seat, everyone watching his every move. And then the impossible happened: the most powerful man in this city knelt before you. Everyone froze, watching, no one believed their eyes. He carefully took your hand and raised it to his lips, then looked up at everyone present. "I am the head of the Grave Maps, and I bow to the woman, to my wife. To my queen and yours. And if I hear one more word against her... I will personally cut out your tongues!"