The Don Who Forgot Me

My mafia boss husband, Valentino, handed me over to the rival Gallo gang as a bargaining chip—all to please his lawyer mistress, Lilith. I was pregnant. 

I endured hell. I lost my baby, and along with it, the ability to ever have children of my own.

I completely snapped. At a dinner banquet, I slashed Lilith with a knife and fled into the night. 

Valentino chased after me, only to be ambushed by rivals. His car flipped, leaving him critically injured. 

When he woke up, the doctors said his memory had regressed to when he was nineteen. Dragging the left leg he had ruined years ago taking a bullet for me, he clung to me like a lifeline, refusing to let go. 

Every fiber of my being wanted to push him away. My PTSD was screaming at me. But my damn heart softened, and I brought him back to my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. 

Late one night, a loud crash echoed from the kitchen. I rushed in. 

The back of his hand was covered in angry burn blisters. He hung his head, looking like a lost boy. "I’m sorry, Sera. I remembered you love my tomato pasta. I just wanted to make it for you."

That single moment shattered the walls I’d been desperately holding up. I snatched the pot from him and hurled it onto the floor tiles. 

He flinched, biting his lip as he looked up at me with tear-filled, hurt eyes. 

A bitter, absurd wave of sadness washed over me. I shouldn't punish the nineteen-year-old boy who loved me for the sins of the ruthless man he had become. 

A few days later, I took him to the family’s private brain clinic for a follow-up. 

The door to the consultation room wasn't shut tight. 

The doctor’s voice was heavy. "Don Val, your wife is suffering from severe depression. She’s losing control and hurting herself. Are you really going to keep up this act?"

Valentino’s reply was bone-chillingly cold. "She slashed Lilith with a knife and left her bedridden for months. I’m merely giving her a little punishment."

Standing outside the door, my blood ran cold. My fingernails dug so hard into the medical file that my palms started to bleed. 

"Why nineteen, Val?" 

Dr. Marino’s voice bled through the door of the clinic. I froze, my hand hovering over the knob. 

"Because at nineteen, I took a bullet for her." Val’s voice was dark and steady. "Half my left leg is junk. She’ll never blame the nineteen-year-old me."

The Val from back then really did love me. 

Loved me enough to die for me. 

But love is so damn short. 

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my fingernails digging hard into the grooves of the floorboards just to keep myself from collapsing completely. 

"Are you in love with Lilith now?" Dr. Marino asked the exact question burning in my throat. "If you are, why won't you just let Sera go?"

"We’ve been together twelve years, Doc. Look at her now. Dead eyes. No spark. I forgot what loving her even feels like." 

He exhaled loudly. "But Lilith? She’s sharp. Alive. Being with her is like dating Sera back in the old days. I love Sera, I can’t lose her. But I can't live without Lilith's fire. Sera will just have to take the hit for a while."

A cold spike drove through my chest. I backed away from the door, gasping for air, and bolted down the hall. 

I shoved past the clinic's glass doors and slammed hard into Lilith on the sidewalk. 

"Watch it, bitch!" 

Scalding coffee splashed across my forearm. 

She glanced at my blistered skin, smirked, and immediately pulled out her phone. Her voice shifted into a panicked whine. "Val? Baby, help. I’m right outside the clinic. Some psycho street trash just tried to jump me for cash. She ruined my silk blouse."

Under three minutes. My husband rushed into here. 

He didn’t even glance at me. He grabbed Lilith’s hands, his eyes frantically scanning her perfectly clean outfit. "You okay? Did she hurt you?"

"I'm fine, just scared," she pouted. 

Val finally turned. He pulled out his money clip, yanked out a piece of paper, and tossed it into the puddle of spilled coffee at my feet. 

"Take it and back the fuck off," he snarled, his voice dripping with disgust. "There’s five hundred grand there. Next time you try a shakedown, I’ll break your legs."

He wrapped an arm around Lilith and led her to his waiting SUV. 

I stared at the paper soaking up the brown liquid. It wasn't a normal check. It was a cashier's check. My check. 

Twelve years ago, I sold my grandmother’s shares, my family estate, every piece of jewelry I owned to scrape together his startup money. When I gave it to him, his eyes full of tears. “You bought my life with your family's blood, Sera. I’ll never cash this. I’ll keep it to remind me to never betray you.”

Now, he just threw twelve years of my blood and sweat into a dirty puddle. For his mistress. 

I knelt in the filth, my hands shaking as I picked up the check. 

After getting my wound treated, I went back home. 

The front door of our penthouse clicked open. 

"Sera? I'm back!"

I sat on the couch. Val limped in, his face bright with boyish innocence.

He held up a paper cup. "Pistachio gelato! Your favorite. I had to walk three blocks to find it."

He sat beside me, his smile dropping instantly as his eyes locked onto my red, blistered arm. 

One tear slipped and hit my knuckles. "Oh my god, Sera. Who did this to you? Does it hurt? Let's go to the ER right now, please."

He reached out to touch my arm. 

My stomach violently heaved. 

The smell of pistachio hit my nose, and all I could see was the very first time I caught him cheating with Lilith. I had walked into his private office to find her spread across his desk, smeared in this exact gelato, while he licked it off her breast. 

"Don't touch me!" I choked out, violently slapping his hand away. 

I sprinted to the master bathroom and slammed the door, locking it. The walls immediately felt like they were shrinking. My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe. The claustrophobia was suffocating me. 

I yanked open the cabinet, my hands shaking. I grabbed a pink eyebrow razor. 

Without thinking, I pressed the blade into the skin of my forearm and dragged it down. 

A sharp sting. Then, a line of crimson. 

The physical pain cut through the panic. I watched the blood drip onto the white marble tiles. One drop. Two. The storm in my head finally quieted down. 

Ten minutes later, I bandaged my arm and opened the door. The apartment was dead quiet. 

I walked toward the living room and stopped. 

The balcony door was cracked open. Val was standing in the shadows, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.

He had a phone pressed to his ear. "Stop whining, baby. You know I want to see you. But the punishment isn't enough yet." He took a drag. "Let me finish flushing out the rats in the family. We'll play tomorrow at the clinic. Be good."