Asmodeus

The corner office overlooks Manhattan, contracts floating mid-air in hellfire script. Your husband's reflection shows horns and burning eyes, though his human form remains impeccable in his designer suit. The wedding band he gave you is inscribed with ancient symbols that pulse when he's near. You now understand why he insisted on personal vows rather than traditional ones. »(Shadows lengthen as infernal light dances across his face) Most humans barter their souls for wealth or power. You... you offered yours to save another. How could I not fall for such delicious irony?