Chapter 2 The Threat From Her Husband

"Miles, look at this! Isn't it cute?"

Olivia wrapped her arms around her husband from behind the couch, her voice bubbling with excitement as she held up a small, red paper heart she'd folded with care. A playful lilt colored her words, laced with a hint of eagerness to please.

"It's for you. Do you like it?"

Miles barely glanced at the delicate trinket. He pushed her hand away, his tone flat and cold. "Did you take your medicine today?"

Olivia's smile froze. Her eyes darted nervously before she answered, her voice soft and obedient. "Yes, I took it."

"Took it?" Miles' brows knitted together, skepticism etched into his face. He brushed off her arms from around his neck, clearly unconvinced.

Without another word, he stood and strode to a nearby cabinet. He pulled out a packet of pre-brewed medicine, poured its contents into a glass, and then, with deliberate precision, lit a piece of yellow paper and dropped its smoldering ashes into the liquid.

Olivia watched as he approached with the glass, her heart sinking. She took two instinctive steps back, silently praying he didn't mean what she feared. She hoped against hope that he wasn't about to force her to drink this mysterious, foul-looking concoction he called "medicine."

"Drink this too." He thrust the glass toward her, shattering her fragile hope.

The contents of the glass were grotesque—a murky black liquid swirling with flecks of ash, its appearance alone enough to turn her stomach.

"I..." Olivia turned her face away, her voice trembling as she tried to negotiate. "Can I skip this one? I already took the medicine from home."

"No."

Miles' response was curt and unyielding. Noticing her reluctance, he softened his expression, his tone shifting to a coaxing lilt. "This came from a renowned witch. It's powerful stuff, Olivia. Drink it, and I'm sure you'll be able to conceive."

Olivia stared at the vile mixture, her throat tightening at the thought of swallowing it. She shook her head, her voice edged with a desperate plea. "Miles, I really don't want to drink it. Please, don't make me."

Her repeated refusals snapped his patience. His face hardened, and he spoke as if scolding a child. "Stop being dramatic. Be a good girl, alright? The witch said this one's effective. Just take a sip."

Olivia screamed in her mind.

A witch? This is the modern world. There are no witches.

Olivia didn't know who had lost their mind—Miles or herself—for even standing here, listening to this insanity. She couldn't believe he'd go this far just to force a pregnancy, trying to shove some disgusting, reeking potion down her throat.

Before she could say another word, he grabbed the back of her head and tilted it, trying to force the glass to her lips.

The moment the liquid neared her face, a foul, putrid stench invaded her nose, making her gag. She shoved him away, harder than she meant to. The glass flew from his hand and smashed to the floor, shattering on the floor with a sharp crash.

Black liquid oozed across the carpet, spreading like the claws of some sinister beast.

"What's with the tantrum?!" Miles' temper flared, his voice rising. "You dare defy me?"

"I'm not throwing a tantrum." Olivia's own stubbornness flared in response. She glared at him, her words deliberate and sharp. "I just don't want to drink that."

Miles hadn't expected his usually docile wife to talk back. His voice rose to a furious bellow. "You don't want to drink it?! Then how the hell do you expect to get pregnant?! Why can't you give me a child?"

Tears welled in Olivia's eyes, spilling down her cheeks uncontrollably. She clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Then she snapped. "And how do you know it's my fault?! What if it's not me?!"

Her words struck a nerve, igniting Miles' fury.

He slammed the objects in his hands to the ground, his voice a feral snarl. "What the hell are you implying?! That I have a problem?! Are you insane?! There's nothing wrong with me!"

Olivia flinched at his rage, scrambling to explain. "That's not what I meant! I didn't say it's you. Maybe... Maybe it's just bad luck..."

"Bad luck? We've been married for five years, not five days!"

His voice boomed through the room like thunder. He jabbed a finger at her, his face twisted with rage. "Don't you dare try to pin this on me! The one who can't get pregnant is you, not me!

"You know what my father expects of me," he continued, his voice dripping with menace. "If you can't give me a child, I can't inherit the Davis family.

"That's the only thing I've ever dreamed of. And if I can't have it because of you—then you're no longer my wife. In fact... I'll kill you."

Olivia froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

For the first time, the man before her felt like a stranger—a terrifying stranger.

Miles was her husband, the man she loved most.

He had once promised to marry her, vowing to stand by her side through wealth or poverty, for better or worse.

But now, for the sake of becoming the mafia's heir, he was ready to cast her aside... or worse, end her life.

The memories of their five years together—the promises, the tender moments—flooded her mind. Unable to bear it any longer, she choked back a sob, flung open the door, and ran out.

The Davis family's yacht was enormous, but to Olivia, there wasn't a single place she felt safe.

Their influence was far-reaching. She could run, but there'd be nowhere to hide.

And even if she managed to escape, her parents would still be within Miles' reach.

So she couldn't run.

Olivia's thoughts drifted back to five years ago. She had married Miles out of gratitude and to seal a family alliance. She had believed she would earn his love. Never had she imagined it would end with such a cold, heartless threat.

Since marrying Miles, Olivia had devoted herself to him, always considerate, always supportive.

She had stood by his side for five long years. Even a dog would form a bond in that time. But Miles? He didn't just turn cold. He had become cruel.

The pain and heartbreak overwhelmed her.

His words echoed in her mind—if she couldn't bear a child, he would kill her.

How had the man she loved turned into someone so unrecognizable? So ruthless?

Olivia stumbled onto the deck, collapsing into a corner, her hands covering her face as silent sobs wracked her body.

She couldn't understand what she had done to deserve this.

Was inheriting the mafia, becoming the next godfather, really so important?

Did their love mean nothing?

Did their years of companionship mean nothing?

Her thoughts turned to Daniel, the legendary first heir to the Davis family, the enigmatic head of the world's top three law firms.

As the primary heir, Daniel was the most likely to inherit the mafia empire. The power was his for the taking, if he wanted it. Yet, unlike Miles, Daniel seemed indifferent to the family's wealth and influence.

He had chosen to become a lawyer, founding a firm that, under his leadership, had risen to become the world's most prestigious.

Olivia couldn't help but wonder—if it were Daniel in this situation, would he force his wife to drink that wretched "medicine" for the sake of an heir? Would he threaten to divorce—or kill—his wife over it?

The more she thought, the deeper her sorrow grew. She buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled but heavy with grief.

"What are you doing out here?" A warm hand suddenly rested on her shoulder.