A Year of Punishment

I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified of making even the slightest sound.

Inside the private suite, Zann Lima was dressed in a black bespoke suit, perfectly tailored to accentuate his tall, slender frame. He looked nothing like the listless figure who had been confined to a wheelchair.

A cigar rested between his fingers as he lounged casually against the sofa, bantering with his men while emanating the commanding presence of a mafia boss.

“Don, you’ve kept up the act for a whole year now. Neve Steele has worked down to the bone to pay for your treatments. She barely looks human anymore. This should be enough of a punishment, shouldn’t it?”

One of the men asked cautiously.

Zann sighed helplessly.

“I never wanted this either. But she brought this on herself.

“If she hadn’t lashed out at Wandi back then, that worsened her depression, I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths.”

“How’s Ms. Silva now?” another man asked with concern.

Zann tapped ash from his cigar, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he replied, “Much better. But the doctors say she still can’t handle emotional shock. Otherwise, she’ll relapse.”

Cold spread through my veins from head to toe.

So this entire year of suffering, everything that I had endured, was nothing more than his punishment for me.

Wanda Silva was his childhood friend. Ever since I married Zann, she had clung to him relentlessly.

Her parents died saving Zann’s parents, and because of that, he had always indulged her excessively.

Simply because I had defended myself against her insults, she had claimed to have depression and even threatened suicide.

I clutched my chest, gasping for breath as tears blurred my vision.

My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug deep into my palms, using the pain to keep myself upright.

“Wandi spent a year overseas, recuperating, before she was willing to forgive Neve. In a couple of days, I’ll stage a medical ‘miracle’, stand up again, and let her resume being the Donna. This year is a penance for her willfulness.”

Each word of his was uttered coolly, piercing deeper into my heart.

“But… it has been a year. Will she buy it?” someone asked hesitantly.

Zann smiled in confidence and said, “That fool? She believes everything I say. She loves me too much to ever doubt me.”

My body trembled violently. I was barely holding myself up.

He had always known about my sacrifices, yet treated me merely as a puppet to be manipulated at will.

Another man couldn’t help but speak up on my behalf.

“Don, just days ago, she sold the wedding ring to raise money for your medicine.

“A year ago, she sold the necklace that was your token of love…

“Now that she’s sold the ring too, she’s truly at the end of her road…

“Isn’t this punishment too harsh?”

Zann’s face hardened instantly.

“She’s my wife. I know what I’m doing! This punishment is about to end.

“Wandi is highly sensitive. Even a day less of punishment could trigger her condition!”

I staggered backward as my tears finally broke free.

Everything I had done, in his eyes, was to avenge Wanda.

And I was nothing more than a fool he could trample on.

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, hard enough to draw the metallic taste of blood and spread through my mouth.

Laughter suddenly erupted from the private suite.

Someone asked, unable to bear it any longer, “Don, aren’t you afraid Neve will leave you once she finds out the truth?”

A flicker of panic crossed Zann’s eyes, though gone as quickly as it came. He regained his composure once more.

The cigar twirled once between his fingers.

“She loves me too much for that. How could she ever leave me?

“The thing is, Neve is too willful. She took advantage of my love for her to bully Wandi, showing none of the grace of a Donna.”

I clutched my chest as though struck by a sledgehammer.

Staggering backward, I slammed straight into the manager carrying a tray of drinks.

The shattering of a bottle worth tens of thousands pierced the din, crimson liquid winding across the marble floor.

“Watch where you’re going!” the manager lashed out, slapping across the face.

I slammed onto the ground. Shards of glass embedded in my palms, yet I felt no pain.

All eyes instantly turned toward us, including the ones belonging to the person I loved the most.

Later, Zann and Wanda emerged from the private suite.

She wore a white dress, delicate as a fragile lily, tilting her head to smile at him.

“Wandi, why did you come back on your own?” Zann’s voice softened instantly.

“Are you tired? I’ve arranged for the best rehab team. We’ll start your recovery as soon as we get home.”

Wanda nestled into his embrace like a spoiled child, and he immediately tightened his arms around her, as if afraid she might shatter.

I knelt in blood, hair tangled, and face hidden.

The manager had been yelling.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going? Can you even afford to compensate for this bottle?”

Zann’s footsteps faltered for a moment.

My entire body tensed, nails dug deep into my palms.

If only he’d glance down once, he would recognize the battered, disgraceful woman as his own wife.

But he didn’t.

He merely swept a fleeting glance over me, kneeling on the floor, and paused for a moment before withdrawing his gaze. He was walking further away with his arm wrapped around Wanda.

“Enough,” he said coldly.

“Don’t recruit trash like this again. It’s an eyesore.”

Wanda leaned against his shoulder, turning back to flash me a triumphant smile.

She had recognized me all along.

“Zanny, let’s go,” she said sweetly.

“Alright,” he said as he pinched her cheek affectionately.

“We’ll have the chef make your favorite dishes when we get home.”

I watched their intertwined figures disappear down the hallway, and suddenly I burst into laughter.

Laughter spilled from the blood-tinged corner of my mouth, echoing sharply through the empty hallway.

A year of my devotion meant nothing compared to one wounded look from Wanda.

He spent a year pretending to be crippled, all to vent his anger for another woman’s sake.

The manager continued his tirade of insults as I staggered to my feet.

“The wine…” I croaked hoarsely. “I’ll pay for it.”

Zann was already far away when Wanda tugged his arm and pouted, “Zanny, my feet are so sore.”

He bent down instantly and swept her into his arms as effortlessly as lifting a feather.

As I watched this scene, my nose suddenly began to bleed, splattering crimson droplets onto the white floor.

“W-why are you bleeding from your nose?” the manager recoiled in alarm.

I wiped it away haphazardly, murmuring with a bitter smile, “Looks like I won’t last much longer either.”