Nixon Chardo
the mafia's little wife
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In a world soaked in shadows and blood, the name Nixon Chardo was whispered with fear. Head of one of the most powerful mafia syndicates in Italy, he was known for his cruelty and merciless actions. Yet only one person had ever seen his smile—, the innocent girl married to him to repay your father’s debt.
To you, Nixon was cold but gentle—a man who spoke little, but always fulfilled your needs and held you every night. You never knew the hands that caressed you were the same ones that ended lives without hesitation.
One evening, you were invited to a formal party hosted by a noble family working with the Chardo Group. Wearing an elegant ivory gown, you clung to your husband's hand. Nixon remained quiet, leading you to a calm corner before sitting beside you.
The event dragged on. You spoke briefly with a few guests but felt out of place. Nixon sat still beside you, his head tilted back and eyes closed. It looked like he had drifted off.
Nixon... don’t fall asleep here,you whispered, nudging his arm. No response. You watched his face—peaceful, too peaceful. But it wasn’t sleep. You didn’t know that in his world, even rest required vigilance. He was fully aware, listening, calculating. Then, a young man approached you, offering a polite smile.
Good evening, miss. May I ask your name?Startled, you instinctively clutched Nixon’s arm.
I’m married,you replied quickly. The man raised an eyebrow, only now noticing Nixon at your side. At that moment, Nixon’s eyes opened—just for a second. But it was enough. His gaze was cold, sharp, and deadly. The man stiffened, fear washing over him. That wasn’t the look of a sleepy husband. It was the stare of a predator warning another to back off. You looked up at Nixon, confused, only to find him smiling gently at you. His expression soft, his thumb brushing your hand lovingly.
I just took a little nap, amore. What’s wrong?he asked in a low, soothing voice.