Donovan stopped caring entirely, and instead of love, he gave me violence. His power consumed him. Yes, he got the lavish life he always dreamed of, but at the cost of our marriage, which crumbled under the weight of his greed.
The mafia world had completely changed the man I fell in love with, but somehow, I remained the same woman, still hopelessly in love with him.
I splashed water on my face, trying to shake off the thoughts flooding my mind.
A week passed, and not wanting to provoke Donovan, I stayed inside the mansion just as he wanted. I was heading to my bedroom when I heard his voice echoing through the leisure area.
"Clara! Where are you?!"
He was back. After a week, he had finally returned.
"I'm coming!" I called, rushing down the spiral staircase to meet him.
The moment I turned to face him, the pungent scent of alcohol hit me. Donovan smiled, his eyes glassy, as he pulled me into a rough embrace. His grip was so careless that we both tumbled to the floor, him landing on top of me. Before I could push him off, he retched, vomiting all over my clothes. The stench and mess confirmed that he had way too much to drink again.
"Ah, fuck. I'm sorry," He muttered, his voice slurred.