ALINA
The mild clashing of cluteries resonated through the walls of the kitchen as I prepared breakfast.
My dishevelling thoughts clouded my mind as my hands manoeuvred in the kitchen sink.
Dante's cruelty towards me over these past couple of days had soared so greatly that there was no other way he could hate me more than he hated me now.
What did I ever do to Dante?
I mean the Russian mafias were the ones who caused his parents death not me. Why was he so bent on melting it out on me?
This wasn't a life I was living. This was hell and torture. I never imagined my married life would be this chaotic and terrible.
I hated all these.
Dante was on a journey to show that he was outrightly in charge of my life.
Just for joining his friends for dinner, I got a bruised cheek in return a
