When My Chubby's Identity as a Mafia Boss Was Revealed

Brandon called for the third time, but I remained motionless, cocooned in the sheets.

Without a word, he swept me up, effortlessly lifting me from the bed and placing me back down, this time in the comfort of my own space.

"Baby, you can hold a grudge, but you can't starve yourself," he whispered softly, his voice like velvet against my ear. "I made something just for you... Just one bite, please?"

He gently pushed a tray of food onto my lap, the aroma of fresh lobster bisque filling the air. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer, while his other hand slipped under the blanket, sliding down to the soft curve of my back, fingertips pressing with a possessive tenderness.

I glared at him, my irritation still simmering, but curiosity got the better of me. I glanced down at the bowl, ready to dismiss whatever he had prepared.

But instead of soup, there was a small velvet box nestled beneath the steaming bowl. I hesitated, then slowly opened it.

Inside, a diamond-encrusted bracelet gleamed-a flawless piece that could easily be worth over a hundred thousand dollars. It wasn't something any ordinary man could buy... not unless he was someone like Brandon, a ruthless kingpin with a fortune built on blood and power.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a teasing whisper. "Are you still angry, baby?"

"So, you've been disappearing early in the mornings and coming back late at night just to earn a little extra to buy me a bracelet? You must've been saving for months, huh?"

"Yeah, exactly. You're always so sharp, my little genius."

"How about we go to the Grand Canyon next week? I asked Lyon yesterday, and your business isn't exactly swamped these days, right?"

"Of course."

Lyon-Brandon's so-called 'brother' and loyal sidekick. Loyal, yes. But not the brightest tool in the shed.

After dinner, Brandon went to the laundry room to wash clothes. I turned on the shower in the bathroom, deliberately letting it steam up, pretending to take a shower.

But instead of bathing, I snuck to the laundry room door and listened in on Brandon's conversation.

"Lyon, if you can't handle this, just get the hell out! My wife... What if she finds out what I'm really up to?"

When Brandon came to me later that night, I didn't turn him away. But within two minutes, I could barely hold back my laugh.

"Sorry, darling, but my period just started."

In the middle of the night, I suddenly felt the space beside me empty.

Brandon had gotten up and put on his clothes.

I reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Where do you think you're going, darling?"

"Sweetheart, the company just called me in for some overtime work."

Brandon always did this-whenever he got nervous, he'd fall back on calling me "sweetheart," like it could smooth everything over.

I could feel the lie hanging in the air, but I fought the urge to call