My Hidden Mafia Husband

"My goodness, why? You're hailed as the Satan by leaders around the world, end up as a janitor? I mean, a house husband!" A limited edition Aston Martin pulled up in front of the villa, and a young man stepped out of the car, wearing a limited edition Versace attire and an Armani glasses. Meanwhile, the man referred to as the boss was on the ground like a servant, wiping the floor with a cloth! "Boss, are you really going to give up everything? In the month you've been gone, the entire underworld has gone crazy." "Stop talking nonsense!" Fred Douglas stood up from the floor and slapped the back of his head, "Now, I own the whole world!" As Fred spoke, he pointed at the wedding photo on the wall in the living room. In the photo, the woman was wearing a light makeup and smiling, looking as beautiful as an angel. She was Fred’s wife, Joyce Foster. Fred became Joyce's husband last month, and that was why the famous Satan in the underground world announced his retirement. The young man lit up a Cohiba Behike Cuban cigar for himself, the rich aroma filling the air as he ignited the cigar. "Boss, why not reconsider it? There are two drug lords on the border engaging in intense gunfire, both hoping to see you and have you rearrange the territory." "I’m not interested. Put out that damn cigarette, you just got my freshly cleaned floor dirty with your ash. My wife doesn't like the smell of cigarette." The handsome young man immediately quieted down, muttering in a low voice, "Alright, alright, they say women in love lose their intelligence, I see it's the same for men. I'll leave, boss." He shook his head helplessly, walked out of the villa gate, and headed towards the limited edition Aston Martin. He suddenly paused to glance at a rusty black motorcycle, "By the way, boss, are you using this 'Nightmare' motorcycle to go grocery shopping every day?" "What's the problem? Motorcycles are meant to be ridden. I can give it to you if you want it!" Fred waved his hand nonchalantly. "Come on." The handsome young man shook his head, "I don't want to ride around with something worth 1.3 billion dollars on the streets. Bye, boss." The Aston Martin disappeared from the villa gate with a roar. Fred walked into the yard, looking at the old bicycle and muttering to himself, "1.3 billion? Not even worth a single hair of my wife's." Then Fred kicked the bicycle over with a foot. His phone rang from his pocket as the bicycle hit the ground. Taking out his Nokia phone worth a hundred bucks, Fred glanced at the unanswered message. "Dear Satan, the Saudi royal family earnestly requests ten bodyguards to protect the safety of royal members. The price is three oil fields. From the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Marigold..." "The Foreign Ministry of Marigold hopes to resolve the conflict with Solara gangs at the border..." Fred just glanced at them, didn't even bother to read the content, and deleted the messages. He looked at the floor inside the villa and muttered to himself, "It's delaying my household chores again. There are still two rooms left to clean." Fred put the phone back into his pocket, then got down on the floor to carefully wipe the floor. By the time Fred finished cleaning all the rooms in the villa, it was six in the afternoon. A Mercedes-Benz drove into the villa compound. As soon as Fred heard the engine, he ran to the villa gate. The red Mercedes GT was as beautiful as a cheetah, but it paled in comparison to the woman stepping out of the car. Even fervent car enthusiasts wouldn't pay attention to the Mercedes GT at this moment, instead focusing their gaze on this woman. She wore a simple white blouse with a black skirt. Her slender legs in black stockings looked perfect. Her blond hair was flying as she walked. She was beautiful with good skin and fine features. She was an elegant, beautiful, and wealthy woman. If there were any flaws, it would probably be her cold expression. After getting out of the car, she didn't even glance at Fred standing at the villa's gate, walking straight in. "Dar... Joyce, you're back," Fred said, looking at the woman before him with a placating expression. He wanted to call her darling, but a single glance from her made him retract his words. Joyce Foster, the president of the Foster Group. She married Fred one month ago. Upon seeing Fred, Joyce couldn't help but feel disgusted. There were two types of people she despised the most, smooth talkers and lazy men. Coincidentally, Fred embodied both. In Joyce's eyes, Fred was nothing but a slacker, idling away his days without any ambition. He seemed content to rely on his wife's capabilities to live a better life, and got twenty thousand bucks monthly from his father! Joyce couldn't figure out why her father had chosen someone like Fred. She had protested many times to her father, but to no avail. Fred had arrived a month ago. During this time, Joyce had tried a lot of ways to drive him away. She even fired the maid and made Fred do all the household chores, while she socialized alone. Initially, Joyce thought Fred wouldn't endure it, but unexpectedly, he seemed to relish in it. "Ms. Foster, you must be exhausted from work. I've made some coffee for you." Fred said, wearing a pleasing smile as he handed Joyce a cup of coffee. Looking at Fred's smile, Joyce felt disgusted. She had made Fred's life difficult many times—making him clean toilets, scrub floors with a cloth, forbidding him from touching the fancy cars in the yard, and preventing him from smoking, among other things. Yet, Fred didn't resist any of it. He claimed he didn't smoke and didn't touch a single cigarette. There were even times when Joyce deliberately came home early from work, hoping to catch Fred slacking off, only to be disappointed every time. As she saw Fred's flattering look, a thought came to Joyce. "If you can endure anything, then I'll make you suffer!" With the thought, Joyce leaned back on the sofa and ordered Fred coldly, "I'm tired. Go fetch me a basin of water for washing feet." "Sure!" Fred didn't hesitate for a second and immediately rushed to the bathroom.