Every six months, my mafia don husband loses his memory for fifteen days. He falls for someone else and ruins my life—only to beg for my forgiveness on his knees when it's over. My husband is sick. Almost the entire Underworld of New York knows about it. After the men of the Lucchese family marry, they lose their memories for fifteen days every six months. And during these fifteen days, they fall madly in love with other women, turning their wives into the most pathetic laughingstocks. The first time Dominic lost his memory, he fell for a dirty journalist whore who was trying to leak my family's secrets. For the sake of his so-called true love, he kidnapped me on the exact day of my family’s multi-million-dollar shipment, ordering his men to break both of my legs. The shipment was seized by the feds because I wasn't there to clear it, and I was completely blacklisted from the Underworld high council. Meanwhile, that journalist whore used him to climb straight to the top, becoming one of the most powerful media rats in the city. But the moment the fifteen days were up, Dominic recovered his memories and literally wept at my feet until he fainted. Then, he ordered his executioners to chop the journalist into pieces and feed her to the dogs; to this day, her name is scratched off the earth, dead or alive. The second time he lost his memory, he fell for a low-life maid who washed our clothes. The maid threw a tantrum, demanding a ring and a divorce. When I refused to sign, Dominic dragged me out, threw me into a cartel-run brothel to be humiliated, and had his men film it to spread around the five families. On the fifteenth day, he snapped out of his fugue state right inside the underground courthouse where we were supposed to dissolve our marriage. The man fell straight to his knees on the concrete, pulling out his blade and stabbing his own thigh to beg for my mercy. As for that maid, she met the same fate as the journalist whore—sold off to a brutal Juarez cartel camp, and within three days, she was tortured into a broken, breathing corpse. The most ruthless time was when he fell for my bastard sister. To prove his loyalty to her, he personally sliced open my stomach at a back-alley underground clinic to rip out my six-month-old unborn heir, nearly leaving both me and the baby dead on the operating table. Once his mind cleared, Dominic tried to hang himself right in our mansion. It took the family doctors three days and three nights of emergency surgeries just to barely keep his pathetic ass alive. And this time, it is his twelfth memory glitch. Looking at my former best friend Sasha, who has successfully crawled into his bed, I let out a tired, heavy sigh. “Dominic, if you’re this fucking sick, why don’t you just hurry up and die? I’d rather be a rich widow and inherit the whole goddamn Lucchese Empire.”
“Elena, I know you’re hurting, but you can’t force someone to love you,” Sasha says, her voice dripping with fake pity. “Dom loves me now, and you need to accept reality instead of wishing your own husband dead.” The parasitic bitch clings like a weak vine onto the half-naked body of the man who rules the city's streets. The silk nightgown she is wearing happens to be an old piece I was planning to throw into the mansion's incinerator last week. I take a deep breath. My eyes, cold and entirely stripped of any remaining affection for Dominic, casually glance at the tactical calendar hanging on the wall. Today is day one of his glitch. “If you run out of condoms, there’s a fresh box in the second drawer,” I say calmly. “And if you want to breed his heir, make sure to notify me in advance; I have a lot of family business meetings lately, and I’ll need to clear my schedule to sign the divorce papers.” “Oh, and one more thing, Sasha—did you remember to buy life insurance?” I leave that last sentence hanging in the air with a dark, heavy meaning. Sasha freezes, staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind, her lips curling into a mocking sneer. “Elena, have you gone completely insane from heartbreak? Is a man really worth losing your damn mind over?” “Being this obsessed is pathetic, sweetie.” This is the same "best friend" who used to rage and pull her gun out whenever Dominic stepped out on me in the past, swearing she would kill him for me. Now, she looks like a victorious alley cat. She arrogantly snuggles deeper into the chest of a married Don, radiating pure, disgusting pride. I shrug carelessly, not giving a single shit, and tilt my head. “It’s nothing, just a friendly warning—good luck surviving fifteen days from now.” The moment I turn my back to leave, the master bedroom that once belonged to me and Dominic instantly fills with the loud, breathless sounds of their disgusting lust. The man groans heavily, his deep voice laughing, “Elena is nothing but a political pawn from an arranged marriage, why do you care about her? My heart belongs entirely to you.” Heh, this hereditary mental disease of the Lucchese family is truly fascinating. The second he loses his memory, his brain automatically rationalizes me as nothing but a soulless business transaction. Walking out of the heavily guarded villa, I pull out my encrypted phone and dial my consigliere, giving the order in a flat tone. “I don’t care what strings you have to pull or how many millions you have to burn—within fifteen days, I want our official divorce decree finalized.” And since he is the one breaking the sacred mafia vow, he will be stripped of everything and kicked out of my family's territories with absolutely nothing. Of course, there is an even bigger surprise waiting for Dominic to personally enjoy once he wakes up from his little trance. I pick one of the hundred safehouses registered under my secret aliases and drive over. I crawl into bed and sleep peacefully until I naturally wake up the next morning. But the moment I open my eyes, my muted phone is practically exploding with missed calls from his private line. “Elena, where the fuck did you hide Sasha?!” Dominic roars the second I hit answer. “Just because I don’t love your pathetic ass anymore, you’re cruel enough to hurt my fucking angel?!” “You can’t force love, Elena, and if anything happens to even a single hair on Sasha’s head, I swear to God I will make you pay for the rest of your life!” The sheer volume of his screaming makes my ears ring. I roll my eyes in pure annoyance and prepare to hang up the call. Suddenly, the reinforced steel door of my safehouse is violently breached with a loud crash. Dominic, phone still gripped in his hand, charges into the room like a rabid beast. Without a single word, he swings his arm and delivers a brutal, backhanded slap right across my face. The entire left side of my face goes completely numb, and the corner of my lip immediately splits open, dripping dark crimson blood onto the floor. “Dominic, you fucking hit me? For Sasha?!” I let my body collapse weakly onto the floorboards. Even though I can’t squeeze out a single real tear to save my life, I still force myself to look completely shattered, cradling my bleeding cheek and trembling as if my world has ended. In the dark corner of the ceiling, the tiny red light of a hidden security camera blinks steadily. Seeing me like this, the man shoves one hand into his tailored suit pocket, leaning over to look down at me like I'm a piece of garbage. He lets out a cold sneer, “Are you really that desperate for my love? Elena, you are truly pathetic!” Before the words even fully leave his mouth, he raises a hand and snaps his fingers. His massive bratva-trained bodyguards instantly step forward, pinning me roughly to the hard floor with calculated cruelty. “But kidnapping Sasha means you crossed my fucking line.” “Beat her,” Dominic orders coldly. “Teach the Don's wife some fucking manners, and don’t stop until she tells us where Sasha is hiding.” A rain of heavy, iron-like fists begins to pelt my body mercilessly. In the midst of the pain, my mind flashes back to Dominic’s tenth memory glitch, when he almost gouged out my left eye with a broken bottle. The exact second the fifteen-day countdown ended and he saw me covered in dried blood, he turned into a literal caged animal. He locked himself in the mansion's concrete basement and brutally tortured himself for a solid week. He broke his own arms and legs. If I hadn't ordered the guards to stop him, he probably would have ripped his own eyes out with his bare hands just to beg for my forgiveness. As the final heavy punch hits my ribs, my throat tightens, and I cough up a mouthful of thick blood onto the floor. Suddenly, Dominic’s encrypted phone vibrates violently in his pocket. The moment his eyes hit the caller ID, his face lights up with frantic excitement, and he answers it immediately. “Sasha?! Baby, yes, I’m coming right now—don’t be scared, stop crying, it breaks my fucking heart.” The man storms out of the safehouse in a desperate rush. Inside the empty, ruined apartment, I am left battered and bleeding on the floor, but I slowly reach out to pull up my laptop. The security footage has already finished syncing to my secure cloud server in real-time. I edit the file, save it under lock and key, and type out the title. Label: [A Gift For My Ex-Husband: Part One—Sent in 15 Days!]
Sasha’s little self-kidnapping performance concludes flawlessly with her "miraculous rescue." To punish me further for my "crimes," Dominic completely freezes every single one of my black cards and even contacts my family's underground network, forcing them to temporarily suspend my position as the head of our smuggling operations. My direct supervisor looks at me in the dim office, offering an awkward, sweating smile as he tries to soothe me. “Elena, look, the Don will get his mind back in fifteen days anyway; you two have survived worse storms over the years.” “He truly loves you, and everyone in the Five Families knows that.” Love? But this kind of "love" that requires me to bleed out every six months is starting to make me feel profoundly exhausted. My supervisor opens his mouth to say more. But I simply close my eyes, cutting him off with a blunt, jarring question, “Do you know exactly how Dominic’s parents died?” “What?” “During his father’s seventy-eighth glitch, the old Godfather accidentally shot and killed his own wife for the sake of a cheap stripper. Then, the moment his sanity snapped back, he took the stripper in his arms and leaped straight off the top floor of the Empire State Building, leaving nothing but a bloody smear on the pavement.” I have absolutely no intention of following the same tragic script. The office falls into a dead, suffocating silence. I take the suspension notice and walk out. The moment I step out of the syndicate's headquarters, Sasha’s encrypted messages begin flooding my screen one after another. Dozens of high-resolution photos pop up. The absolute King of the New York Underworld, a man who makes hardened killers tremble, is currently on his hands and knees on the carpet, letting that woman ride him like a horse for her own amusement. There are photos of him washing her feet, and kissing her toes. The text messages claim that even if Sasha demanded a literal mountain of blood diamonds, he would gladly burn down half the city within an hour just to make his little queen smile. [Elena, being your friend meant I was always just a pathetic shadow used to make you look better.] [But everything is different now—the most powerful man in the city belongs to me.] [I, Sasha, will be stepping right on your neck soon, taking every bit of wealth and power that used to be yours.] [Are you jealous? Do you hate me? Too bad you can’t do shit about it! Hahaha...] Looking at those texts filled with pure, arrogant malice, I can practically feel her obnoxious gloating radiating through the glass screen. I let out a cold, disgusted snort and take a screenshot of every single message. I upload them directly to the cloud server. Label: [A Gift For My Ex-Husband: Part Two—Sent in 15 Days!] I drive back to our main villa to retrieve one specific item. Before my grandmother, the last true matriarch of our old Italian bloodline, passed away, she handed me our hand-embroidered silk Heritage Crest—the ultimate symbol of our family’s honor and vendetta history. That silk piece has survived generations of mafia wars. It is the living proof and the absolute pride of our family’s survival through blood and fire. Dominic once told me, “Angele, give me something that means the world to you so I can lock it away; only then can my soul rest, knowing you will never abandon me.” Now, I am completely drained, and I refuse to play a part in this sick game caused by his twisted genetics anymore. I am taking my grandmother's Crest back, cutting every single tie clean! But the very second I step through the grand marble foyer, I spot Sasha holding a filthy, stray dog covered in mud and leaking urine. Her eyes are filled with tears as she reaches out toward Dominic—a man who is severely allergic to dog dander but is forcing himself to stand there and endure it just for her. “Dom, the poor puppy is so dirty, hurry up and grab that old rag on the wall so I can wipe him down.” The "old rag" Sasha is pointing her acrylic nail at happens to be my grandmother's hand-woven Heritage Silk, beautifully framed and mounted on the center wall. My heart drops into a cold, violent abyss. Before I can even step forward to tear her apart, Dominic moves faster than a bullet. He ruthlessly smashes the glass frame with his bare fist, rips the priceless silk Crest out, and shoves it into her hands. His thin lips part, letting out a mocking scoff, “Is Elena fucking brain-dead? Framing a useless piece of rag and hanging it up here just to embarrass the Lucchese name?” Yet, when he was sane, this exact "useless rag" was the only thing that could anchor his violent soul, guarded like the most sacred treasure in his empire! “Good boy, let mommy clean you up,” Sasha coos, using the ancient silk that represents my entire lineage to wipe away the dog's filth. My eyes turn entirely bloodshot, and a primal rage drives me to fly across the room, raising my hand to strike her down. Except. I don’t even manage to touch a single hair on Sasha’s head. Dominic grabs the back of my collar as if I am a piece of infected meat, throwing my body through the air with terrifying force. My fragile frame crashes heavily against the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window. The glass shatters into thousands of deadly shards, tearing through my clothes and slicing deep into my skin, causing thick lines of dark blood to gush out instantly. In that split second. The man who was just fiercely protecting Sasha, his face filled with rage, completely freezes as his eyes land on the bloody mess on the floor. His handsome face turns suddenly pale, as if some buried instinct in his twisted mind is trying to scream...
“Waaah... Dom, Elena is so terrifying, the poor puppy is shaking, and I'm so scared. I don’t want to stay here anymore!” Sasha’s high-pitched, fake whimpering echoes through the room. Dominic, his head shaking violently as if trying to fight off the heavy fog of fractured memories, suddenly snaps back to reality. He hardens his gaze, muttering to himself under his breath, “No way! How could I ever give a single shit about a marriage pawn like Elena? The only woman I love is Sasha! It’s Sasha!” Right before the agonizing pain completely knocks me out, I let out a dry, mocking sneer. It looks like the closer we get to the final fifteen-day deadline, the sharper his forgotten memories are trying to bite through. My body is entirely numb from the blood loss. Like a broken worm, I drag myself across the floorboards, reaching out to grab the stained, ruined Heritage Silk. Sasha, safely tucked into the man's chest as they walk right past me, twists her lips and uses silent mouth movements to mock me: “Elena, you’re just like this trashy rag. As long as I ask for it, Dom will strip you of everything and give it to me. Hahaha...” Behind that silent, ugly laughter, Sasha intentionally lets go of the stray dog. Smelling the filth on the silk, the dog instantly goes wild, baring its disgusting teeth and biting viciously into my exposed skin. The sharp, tearing agony finally pulls me into total darkness. When my eyes finally snap open again, I am holding the filthy silk tightly in my fist, lying inside a private VIP hospital room. The private nurse changing my IV drips mutters in pure pity, “Miss Lucchese, your husband is a literal monster, a cold-blooded piece of shit!” “Last night, you were flatlining on the operating table, and the chief surgeon called your husband to come sign the emergency paperwork.” “But do you want to guess what the bastard said? He said he was too busy comforting his true love, told them he had no time, and that they should just let you rot and die!” Let me rot and die... I slowly turn my head toward the window. The morning sun streams into the room, warm and surprisingly comfortable on my skin. A secure text from my consigliere flashes on the screen. [My Lady, seven more days, and you will have the official divorce papers in your hands. You can leave this hell clean.] Seven days. I prop myself up against the pillows. My grandmother's Crest has already been sent to a specialized cleaner to be restored. My fingers fly across the screen, saving the voice recording of the nurse directly into the cloud file. At the same time, I remotely access the main villa's security feeds from last night and pull the footage, saving them together. Label: [A Gift For My Ex-Husband: Part Three—Sent in 15 Days!] Five days later, I officially discharge myself. Sasha, who used to be nothing but a low-tier street girl, is now riding Dominic’s massive empire resources straight to the top of the Underworld social ladder. She has secured leading roles in major media campaigns, and three top-tier syndicate directors are practically begging to produce exclusive projects tailored entirely for the Don’s new favorite girl. Long story short. As my car rolls through the city, every single massive LED billboard I pass displays the exact same face—the newly crowned "Angel of New York," Sasha. I open my phone, checking the countdown on my calendar. Two days left, and this entire fucking circus will be over for good. Though, I have to admit, I'm slightly curious about one thing. When Dominic finally wakes up from his little trance and personally opens the massive gift bundle I left him, what kind of pathetic show will he put on? Suicide? Hanging? Self-mutilation? Heh, those are all old tricks. I am actually looking forward to whatever new, pathetic drama he comes up with this time! The car pulls up to my safehouse. Before I can even drive into the underground garage, my supervisor calls my line. His voice is trembling violently over the receiver. “E... Elena, look... the Don personally ordered it. He wants you to come back to headquarters immediately to conduct an exclusive live interview with Sasha.” Interviewing Sasha? The broadcast time is set exactly two days from now. I leave the call on speaker, my fingers lightly tapping against the calendar screen. Finally, a smooth smile crosses my face, and I reply in a deadpan voice, “Sure. Tell Dominic I’ll take the job.” A live, unedited broadcast with a thirty-million-dollar marketing push behind it. When the time comes, it won't just be New York watching; every single faction across the country will witness exactly how insane Dominic gets when his mind snaps back! How fun.
Watch? https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202607013xonWQaOFg ? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "Novelix" app ? search for "ni457503", and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix