The Don Forgot Me, so I Forgot Him

No one expected me to show up outside the private dining room.

The smiles on their faces froze, wineglasses suspended in mid-air.

After a violent fit of coughing, I found it a little easier to breathe.

"Layla, what are you doing here?" Charles shot to his feet, then sank back down, his eyes darting instinctively to the woman beside him.

I didn't answer. My gaze had already landed on the table overflowing with food and gift boxes.

I recognized every single shopping bag. They were all brands I'd mentioned to Charles over and over but never received. Now he'd given them all to another woman. Lena.

My son Carl sat in Lena's lap, the two of them looking so cozy they could've been mother and child. "Congrats on your promotion, Mommy Lena. You're gonna be even more awesome!"

Lena beamed, clearly touched, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Lena, come see what surprise I've got for you!" It was Gloria, Charles's mother.

One by one, the very people who'd just told me on the phone they were picking out my gifts, already on their way to celebrate my birthday, filed in through the door.

My mother. My brother. My best friend.

Every one of them wore a genuine smile, arms full of gifts, walking in right past me.

The moment they saw me, the chatter died. The smiles froze on their faces.

I looked at Charles and tried to keep my voice from shaking. "Charles, today is my birthday."

No matter how hard I fought it, another cough was clawing its way out of my chest.

Charles frowned, looking annoyed, and lowered his voice. "Sorry, Layla. Lena got promoted today, so we decided last minute to throw her a celebration."

He stepped toward me to put his arm around my shoulders, but I pulled away.

"No, this wasn't last minute." I cast a cool glance at the gift boxes on the table. "These are all limited editions from designer boutiques. That handbag alone has a six-month waiting list."

Six months ago, I'd been lying in a hospital bed after surgery, unable to reach him no matter how hard I tried.

All the while, he'd been placing luxury handbag orders for Lena.

Charles slowly lowered his hand, his expression turning cold. "Layla, Lena's promotion is a happy occasion. Don't ruin it. Besides, I'm the Don. Can't I even spend my own money?"

Isabella immediately rushed over and shoved me. "Don't make a scene here. You're embarrassing yourself!"

She stared at me, eyes full of disappointment. "Your father specifically asked on his deathbed that we take care of Lena. She's a Ferraro princess too, same as you. I'm supposed to treat her well."

Lena was a girl my father had rescued from an underground casino seven years ago. He'd told everyone she was to be considered a member of the Ferraro Family from then on.

For this adopted girl, Isabella had completely forgotten her own daughter's birthday.

Vivian chimed in to defend her. "Come on, Layla, this isn't Charles's fault. We're the ones who asked him to come. Can you stop being so difficult?"

I let out a sudden laugh. Apparently, everything was my fault.

A violent coughing fit nearly knocked me off my feet. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, the kind that come from pain, not sadness.

Charles rubbed his forehead, pulled off his gloves, and patted my back. "Lena was adopted by your father. She grew up without a real family, so she's always been insecure. I forgot, okay? But you need to get that princess temper of yours under control. You can't just throw a fit whenever you feel like it."

The same old excuse. He'd once ignored me waiting to celebrate our anniversary because Lena had a tiny cut on her finger. His reason? He forgot.

When I pressed him, he said he'd been afraid my princess temper would make things worse.

When Lena called in the middle of the night complaining of a stomachache, he dropped everything and left me, sick in bed myself, and didn't come home for two days.

His explanation? He forgot.

Eventually, I stopped asking for one simple reason.

No matter what I asked, he always found a way to make it my fault. That way, his neglect and betrayal always had the perfect excuse.

"Come on, Layla, don't be upset. I shouldn't have forgotten. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay? Whatever you want, I'll buy it." He offered a thin smile and moved to wrap his arms around me.

But I could see the truth. His mouth curved in a smile, but his eyes held nothing. There wasn't a trace of warmth.

"Charles, I want a divorce."

Everyone who'd been lecturing me went dead silent.

Charles dropped the act, tugging at his tie in irritation. "Layla, put away your princess attitude. I'm not in the mood to coddle you."

Just then, the quiet room was broken by Lena's soft sobbing.

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue and stood to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Layla. This is all my fault.

"I was just so happy about my promotion, and Charles didn't want to let me down, that's all. I'm apologizing to you. But if your marriage falls apart because of this, I'll never forgive myself."

"Get away from her!" A sudden force slammed into me. Carl had charged over and shoved me hard.