The Mafia Don’s Broken Wife Chapter 01

The Mafia Don’s Broken Wife Chapter 01

The day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, Kyle Voss invited me onto a divorce reality show.

I knew exactly why—he’d lost to Elara Grant again.

They’d made ninety-nine bets in total. Every single time, he chose to lose.

He gambled away the home we decorated together, our wedding, even the child I was carrying.

Kyle had Elara personally arrange my abortion, just to satisfy her twisted curiosity about the human body.

At seven months pregnant, I lost our baby. I bled out on the operating table, barely clinging to life.

The Mafia boss shoved the contract into my hands.

“Lila, I lost again. It’s just a reality show—for Elara, do it.”

“It’ll boost your exposure too. Good for landing roles later.”

Kyle had forgotten this.

The last time he lost to Elara, he made me shoot ten adult films.

Back then, he promised, “None of your footage will ever leak.”

But by the next morning, my explicit videos were trending everywhere.

I was blacklisted across the entire industry. No director would touch me again.

I signed the contract calmly.

Kyle smiled, satisfied, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Remember—pick ‘stay married’ for the last question. When the trip ends, we’ll walk out together.”

He had no idea we wouldn’t make it to the end.

…

I had just put the contract away when the funeral home called.

The man who’d been staring at his phone looked up, catching only a few words. “Who died?”

I hung up and brushed it off. “A distant relative.”

He grunted in response, dropped his gaze back to his phone, and walked out without waiting for me—just like always.

I didn’t care. I followed him out.

But when I reached for the car door, his hand stopped mine.

“Lila, drive yourself to the set. I need to grab breakfast for Elara.”

I froze for a second, then quietly pulled my hand back.

“Okay.”

He seemed surprised I didn’t get mad. For once, he gave me a gentle smile.

“Make sure you eat. You’re too skinny.”

My eyes drifted to the back seat—over a dozen breakfast items, still warm.

He must’ve gone out early to buy them himself.

I turned away, a memory surfacing—my stomach ulcer acting up.

I’d begged him for a cup of chamomile tea. He’d only shot me a cold glance and handed me a carton of milk.

“No time for that. Drink this.”

Then he’d left in a hurry.

He forgot I was lactose intolerant.

The milk at home was for him.

He barely stayed there anyway—the cartons had long expired.

By the time I snapped back to reality, his car was already speeding away.

When I arrived at the set, everyone looked at me with thinly veiled judgment.

I said nothing.

The other guests had finished their pre-interviews, but Kyle still hadn’t shown up.

The director urged me to call him.

I pulled out my phone, only to realize he’d blocked me a long time ago.

Turns out, after losing a bet to Elara, his punishment had been deleting all my contact info.

I put my phone away, forced a small smile, and apologized to the director. “Sorry, I don’t have his number.”

The crew started whispering.

“Did she sign up behind his back? Mr. Voss clearly doesn’t want to be here.”

“She’s done so many explicit films—how does she still have the nerve to show up on a divorce show? He’s already generous enough not to divorce her.”

The director was Kyle’s friend. He knew the truth.

He hesitated for only a second before letting the chatter die down.

I waited until nightfall.

Everyone else had gone back to the hotel, but I was still sitting alone in the empty studio.

Cold wind slipped through the window.

I covered my mouth as I coughed, blood staining my palm.

I was wiping it away when someone walked in.

Hearing me cough, he draped his coat over my shoulders.

“Sorry I’m late. Something urgent came up at home.”

But I could smell it—strong, overwhelming, the scent of crabapple blossoms.

Elara loved crabapple baths, so Kyle built her a ten-acre orchard where spring blooms lasted even through winter.

When I noticed the faint red mark on his neck, I quietly looked away.

Kyle was severely allergic to pollen. Once, he’d gone into anaphylactic shock right in front of me.

I’d cried, begging him not to risk his life for Elara.

He’d just glared at me coldly. “Mind your own business.”

I tightened my grip on the blood-stained tissue and took off his coat.

I hated that scent—and he knew it.

My mother died under a crabapple tree. That was where she fell in love with my father, right after catching him cheating.

Back when Kyle and I were in love, he always told the florist, “No crabapple blossoms.”

He swore he’d never betray me.

But flowers fade. People change.

The boy who once loved me now had someone he loved more.

When the crew called us in for interviews, Kyle kept staring at his phone, a doting smile on his face.

No one dared interrupt him.

I answered every sharp, intrusive question alone, like I was performing a one-woman show.

Acting wasn’t new to me.

I’d treat this as my final performance in this world.

For the last segment, the director handed each of us a slip of paper.

“Final question: Do you still want a divorce today?”