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My Mafia Husband Tried To Cure Me With My Friend, Now He Regrets Everything
4
共有:
報告
概要
Tragic Love
Mafia
Hypocrisy
Regret
Winning Back the Wife
Countdown
After I was kidnapped by my Family’s enemies, I was left with severe PTSD. I couldn’t stand the noise of intense sound. On our wedding day, my husband, the Mafia Don Andre, swore before God that he would create a world of silence for me. For five years, he never wore any device that made a sound. He even ordered that no gunshots were to be heard anywhere in Sicily, losing several major deals because of it. Until my best friend Alice returned to Sicily and openly played rock music inside the estate. The terror of being kidnapped came rushing back. I crawled onto the floor, begging and apologizing over and over. Tears mixed with the blood running down my face as I kept hitting my head against the ground. Half an hour later, the music stopped. Alice held up her phone, laughing so hard she could barely stand. “Oh my God. She actually thought she was being kidnapped again.” Andre recorded my humiliation with a phone in his hand while laughing and comforting me. “Alice said this is exposure therapy. After a few more times, you won’t be afraid anymore.” My brother stared at me through the screen and scolded me from the other side. “Monica, look at yourself. How can you possibly be worthy of being a Donna?” My entire body was drenched in sweat. My hair was covered in blood, and I couldn’t even stand. I stared at the note in Andre’s hand, and realized. Last month, he was the one who replaced my noise-canceling headphones with headphones that played nothing but loud noises. Last week, he was the one who took me to that noisy bar. The silence he once built for me was now being destroyed by his own hands. Slowly, I pushed myself up from the floor. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I simply looked at him.I no longer wanted to remain in his world.
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My Mafia Husband Tried To Cure Me With My Friend, Now He Regrets Everything Chapter 9
A few days later, I received an email.The sender was Andre.It was a very long letter. I hesitated for a moment before opening it.He wrote about many things.He said he had watched every recording, and for the first time, he had seen my expressions so clearly.He said he had always believed he was helping me, until he stood before the court and listened as the evidence was read out, piece by piece. That was when he finally realized what he had done.He said that when Alice first approached him, he had simply thought it was a good thing that someone could solve my problem.He didn’t want me to remain trapped in PTSD forever.He said he had been too busy, with too many family affairs to deal with, and he thought that leaving everything to a “professional” would be enough.He was wrong.At the end of the letter, he wrote:“Monica, I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. But I’m asking you to give me one chance. Even if all I can be is an ordinary friend to you, that would be
My Mafia Husband Tried To Cure Me With My Friend, Now He Regrets Everything Chapter 8
I opened my computer and accessed the encrypted folder.The complete recording from that day at the bar.It contained Alice’s laughter, the sound of her timer, and Andre’s voice.And other audio recordings from a backup phone.Every time I was exposed to those sounds, I kept a record.I bundled all the evidence together and sent it to my lawyer.At the same time, I had my lawyer send a copy of the evidence to Joey, so he could see it for himself.Three days later, Andre received a letter from my lawyer.It wasn’t divorce papers.It was a pre-litigation notice concerning infringement and compensation for emotional and psychological damages.The attached list of evidence was four pages long.That same day, the psychological counseling center where Alice worked received a formal complaint.The complaint stated: Alice, a trainee counselor without an independent license to practice, had subjected a patient with PTSD to forced exposure therapy without obtaining informed consent, resulting in
My Mafia Husband Tried To Cure Me With My Friend, Now He Regrets Everything Chapter 7
Andre and Alice didn’t give up.Over the next few days, Andre sent me countless messages, his tone growing softer each time—from sincere apologies to quiet pleas. I never replied.Alice messaged me too, sending long paragraphs at a time, going from “I know I was wrong” to “I was only trying to help you” to “You’re being too sensitive.” I blocked her.Then Joey called.“Hello.”“Monica.” His voice came from across the ocean, cold and impatient. “Are you done with this little tantrum yet?”“Andre flew all the way to America to find you, and you wouldn’t even let him through the door? Do you have any idea how many things he had to put aside?”“Alice was crying because of you too. She said you blocked her. Monica, she’s spent so much time helping you with your illness. Fine, you don’t have to be grateful, but what the hell does blocking her accomplish? Do you still think you’re some sixteen-year-old girl? Running away from home, blocking your family and friends—what kind of stunt is that?”
My Mafia Husband Tried To Cure Me With My Friend, Now He Regrets Everything Chapter 6
Meanwhile, I rented a small apartment in New York.It was tiny.I set up my drawing board in the living room, arranged my paints by color, and washed my brushes before leaving them to dry on the windowsill.I sat on the sofa, and there were no speakers hidden somewhere, waiting to suddenly blare sound at me.Silence.Real silence.Curled up on the sofa, I finally let myself cry.The days that followed were simple.During the day, I went to a café on the corner to sketch, and at night, I returned to my apartment to paint in oils.I painted a series based on my memories of Sicily—the olive trees, the waves, the domes of the churches, and the long corridors of the estate.In my third week in New York, Andre appeared outside my apartment.That afternoon, I had just returned from a gallery, carrying a bag of newly purchased paints.As I climbed to the third floor, I saw someone standing outside my door, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair meticulously groomed.His back was to me,
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