The Mafia Don Left Me To Die, But Now Regrets It

There was no anesthesia. Icy instruments plunged into Mia Sanders' body, ripping away the fragile life that had just begun to bloom.

Mia remembered how drunk and unconscious she was at a college party six years ago.

When she woke up, her world had turned upside down.

Her nude photos had spread to every corner of the internet.

Her father spat a mouthful of blood onto the table and never woke up again.

On the third day after the funeral, her mother dragged her to the rooftop.

“I wish I had never given birth to such a shameless thing! Why don't you just die?!”

Then, her mother jumped in front of her.

They were on the nineteenth floor. Her mother was shattered, broken into pieces.

Mia was dragged into the restroom. Urine and feces rained down on her.

Her hair was pulled, her face pressed onto the filthy tile, and something disgusting was shoved into her mouth, forcing her to bark like a dog.

James Yorick was the only one.

It was only James who stood between her and them, covering her in his coat. His eyes were red as he whispered, “Don’t be afraid.”

She clung to that sliver of light like a life raft, gasping for life.

In a cruel twist, the light she held onto had been sparked by the one who burned everything down.

She had even ridiculously fallen in love with him.

Mia forced herself upright and dialed a number.

“Mr. Thompson, this is Mia. I have carefully considered the overseas position you mentioned before, and I’ve decided to accept it.”

The voice on the other end sounded surprised, then hesitant for a moment.

“Mia, your abilities are beyond doubt, but will your husband, Don Yorick, allow you to leave…”

She cut him off. Her voice was flat and unshaken.

“We will get a divorce.”

When James returned home, Mia was curled in the corner of the sofa. Her face was as pale as paper.

He took off his coat, carrying the chill of the night with him, and approached her with furrowed brows.

When his hand touched her icy ankle, he immediately wrapped her entire body in his suit and lifted her into his arms.

He did not kneel. He just sat beside her, pressing her frozen feet against his chest and arms, warming them with his body heat.

“Why can’t you ever take care of yourself?”

His voice was low and unreadable, betraying no emotion, yet his fingertips traced the top of her foot slowly. It was a touch that carried undeniable control.

Mia, looking at his hollow tenderness, felt nothing but disgust, her stomach churning as though it might make her sick.

She instinctively swung a hand, almost gagging as she struck him.

The sharp smack left them both frozen for a moment.

James quickly came back to his senses, pressing her reddened palm to his lips, blowing softly. “Babe, what did I do?”

His heated fingertips traced up her calf, cupping the curve of her rounded hip.

His Adam’s apple rolled as lust darkened his gaze.

“Or… is it because we haven’t been intimate in so long that you want to do it this way…?”

Click.

The sound of a key turning in the door lock cut through the tension.

James jerked back as though he was burned, almost reflexively pushing Mia out of his arms.

Mia’s lower back slammed against the sofa arm, and a muffled groan escaped her lips from the pain.

However, James did not notice. His gaze was already on Zinnia Jones.

Zinnia held a thermal food box. She was dressed in designer clothes with flawless makeup on her face.

Mia had always known that her sister-in-law, Zinnia, was the most special person in James’s world.

After his parents died, Zinnia, who was seven years older, protected him during family chaos, guiding him to the don seat.

She held the highest-level access card, able to come and go at any time, like a true Donna of the house.

Zinnia criticized Mia’s cooking, scolded her for not taking care of James properly.

She dictated how often they could be intimate, claiming that James's work was exhausting. Zinnia told Mia she needed to be sensible and not indulge herself, as it would drain James's energy.

Sometimes, she would even knock late at night, giving instructions through the door on how Mia should position herself to please James most effectively, with every detail bluntly described.

Mia never imagined that it was all just because Zinnia wanted a necklace.

James could so effortlessly ruin her entire life.

Now, Zinnia’s eyes swept over Mia’s disheveled clothing. A hint of displeasure crossed her face, but her smile remained gentle.

“James’s home? Look at you. Why are you dressed like that? You’ll catch a cold.”

She turned to Mia. Her voice was soft yet demanding, “The family needs an heir. You’ve been married three years, and Mia hasn’t conceived.

“So, I hired the most renowned fortune-teller in Sicily. Mia had been unable to conceive all this time because her soul had been tainted by the mark of an ancient demon.”

She retrieved a sealed glass vial from the thermal box.

Inside, the dark red liquid shimmered strangely under the light. A pungent, iron-like stench filled the air.

“This was the heart-blood of a pure black male cat, captured at a crossroads on a full moon night, mixed with holy salt and wormwood. The fortune-teller said it must be drunk by the one who has been tainted in order to purge the demon’s mark.”

Zinnia handed the bottle to Mia. Her voice carried the weight of a merciful judgment. “Mia, drink it, for your future and James’s, and also for the sake of the family’s heir.”