Mafia King's First Love

“Elizabeth Taylor gave Sofia Roth a subtle nod, as if to calm her, before turning her full attention to Cloe. Her gaze was sharp, unforgiving. "This is not your home, Cloe." The words slammed into Cloe like a blow, knocking the air from her lungs. She froze, her body stiffening as the weight of the moment settled over her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Elizabeth cut her off, her voice like a blade slicing through Cloe's hope. "Meet Ethan's fiancée, Sofia." The words hit Cloe like a thunderclap, a shock so violent it felt as if lightning had struck her to the core. Her body stiffened, her eyes wide, her heart pounding so loud it echoed in her ears. Fiancée? Ethan's fiancée? Her eyes darted to Sofia, who stepped forward with a cruel smile, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Yes. Fiancée. I'm pregnant with Ethan's child." Cloe's world shattered. The words slammed into her with the force of a thousand storms, and she staggered backward as if physically struck. Her knees buckled, her hands clutching her chest, her breathing shallow and ragged. Pregnant? With Ethan's child? -------- Cloe was not ready to give up. So she received a sex tape from Sofia Roth. A sex Tape The man's face was deliberately obscured, lying back on the bed, while Sofia's naked body moved atop him, her large breasts bouncing as she rode him with exaggerated enthusiasm. Sofia's face, however, was clear. Her eyes locked onto the camera with an unmistakable awareness of what she was doing. Her moans were loud, theatrical, and filled with purpose. She threw her head back, calling out, "Oh, Ethan... love it, babe." The hands of the man beneath her, though blurred and devoid of identity, reached up to grip Sofia's breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. Sofia's moans grew louder, her voice filled with pleasure as she called out again, "Ethan, baby... you're the best." ------ Three years later. She stepped cautiously into her apartment, her heart racing as she noticed the dark figure seated on the living room sofa. The shadows of the room made it hard to make out who it was. Her breath caught in her throat as she instinctively gripped her bag tighter. "Who's there?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. The figure stirred, slowly rising to his feet. Ethan, unable to believe his eyes, stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. It was her. Cloe-his Cloe-right there in front of him. The woman he had thought lost forever. She took a step forward, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she asked again, her voice firmer now. Ethan felt like the world had stopped moving. The woman standing before him, looking at him as if he were a stranger-how could she not know? His emotions collided within him, confusion, shock, and an overwhelming sense of longing. "I... I am your husband," he managed to say, his voice hoarse with disbelief. She froze, her face contorting in shock. "My husband?" she repeated, disbelief lacing her words. She took a step back, her confusion deepening. "Who are you? And what kind of joke is this?" She refused to recognize him.”