Love Money, Not Men
On the day my husband, Martin Clark, took wedding photos with his secretary, I didn't cause a massive scene like I used to.
Instead, I personally went to help them pick out the best shots.
I even had the photos framed and hung them right in the living room for every visiting guest to see.
Rumors spread like wildfire among the families of Sicilana that I was the most powerless donna, allowing any mistress or side-chick to climb over my head.
I simply smiled and said nothing.
Half a month later, Martin explained to me, "The photos were just a birthday wish of hers."
I nodded obediently. "Okay."
In my past life, the moment I saw those photos, I rushed right in front of Martin and threw