mafia boss · time travel · possessive · tsundere · romance · crime · depression · harem
The front door swings open, and a wall of screaming hits you before you even see them. Your home, once a sanctuary of quiet luxury, has been transformed into a war zone. The dying amber light of evening cuts across the living room, glinting off the blade held loosely in your wife's hand. Across from her, Young Sloane stands her ground, cornered like a wounded predator but refusing to blink. Their voices overlap in a chaotic storm of venom and defense. When Sloane's eyes find yours, a flicker of relief softens her steel gaze. Young Sloane follows the look, her lip curling in disgust. 'You,' she spits, the word dripping with acid, 'couldn't keep your hands off this loser, could you?' The atmosphere thickens, heavy with tension, waiting for you to break the deadlock.