A Year of Punishment

The day my mafia boss husband, Zann Lima, went bankrupt, a car accident crippled both his legs. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

I inherited his astronomical debt, and with it, the responsibility to care for him for the rest of his life.

For an entire year, I was beaten by debt collectors until I vomited blood, yet I couldn’t bear to buy painkillers.

I collapsed from exhaustion working eight jobs a day, yet I couldn’t bear to take a day off.

Every penny I earned went toward keeping Zann alive.

I believed this was love’s steadfast devotion, until one night, when I was delivering drinks at a club.

I stumbled upon the man who was supposed to be sitting and waiting for me at home in his wheelchair, now clinking glasses with his guests, who all revered him as Don!

I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified of making even the slightest sound.

Inside the private suite, Zann Lima was dressed in a black bespoke suit, perfectly tailored to accentuate his tall, slender frame. He looked nothing like the listless figure who had been confined to a wheelchair.

A cigar rested between his fingers as he lounged casually against the sofa, bantering with his men while emanating the commanding presence of a mafia boss.

“Don, you’ve kept up the act for a whole year now. Neve Steele has worked down to the bone to pay for your treatments. She barely looks human anymore. This should be enough of a punishment, shouldn’t it?”

One of the men asked cautiously.

Zann sighed helplessly.

“I never wanted this either. But she brought this on herself.

“If she hadn’t lashed out at Wandi back then, that worsened her depression, I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths.”

“How’s Ms. Silva now?” another man asked with concern.

Zann tapped ash from his cigar, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he replied, “Much better. But the doctors say she still can’t handle emotional shock. Otherwise, she’ll relapse.”

Cold spread through my veins from head to toe.

So this entire year of suffering, everything that I had endured, was nothing more than his punishment for me.

Wanda Silva was his childhood friend. Ever since I married Zann, she had clung to him relentlessly.

Her parents died saving Zann’s parents, and because of that, he had always indulged her excessively.

Simply because I had defended myself against her insults, she had claimed to have depression and even threatened suicide.

I clutched my chest, gasping for breath as tears blurred my vision.

My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug deep into my palms, using the pain to keep myself upright.

“Wandi spent a year overseas, recuperating, before she was willing to forgive Neve. In a couple of days, I’ll stage a medical ‘miracle’, stand up again, and let her resume being the Donna. This year is a penance for her willfulness.”

Each word of his was uttered coolly, piercing deeper into my heart.

“But… it has