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For three years, I secretly used my hidden network of connections to build my husband’s pathetic mafia syndicate into the absolute pinnacle of this city.
Tonight was supposed to be the birthday dinner where I planned to finally reveal my true identity to him.
Instead, Cassio left me all alone in that high-end restaurant and froze every single one of my accounts.
Hours later, he returned with his mistress Lola and a group of heavily armed men.
“You have nothing. No power, no money. You are completely worthless,” Lola sneered triumphantly, viciously smashing a bottle of vintage red wine at my feet before landing a hard punch to my jaw.
He announced to the roaring crowd of mobsters that I was being cast aside.
Then, he gave me a cruel ultimatum.
If I couldn’t produce three hundred thousand dollars in thirty minutes, his men would strip me naked and throw me out onto the street, leaving me to be publicly humiliated for the entire city to see.
Those sleazy capos closed in on me, staring with the greedy eyes of predators sizing up their prey.
Looking at the man I had married out of genuine love, I finally understood that our wedding vows were nothing but a carefully calculated experiment to him.
He truly believed I was just a helpless, penniless woman whom he could trample on at will just to please his mistress.
He had no idea that I was Serena Falcone, the legendary heiress of the most cold-blooded mafia family on the East Coast.
When the countdown ended and his men reached out to tear my dress, I calmly picked up a phone and summoned my real family.
It was time to burn his entire empire to the ground!
My Foolish Husband’s Regret Comes Late Chapter 1
Serena’s POV
I sat alone at a banquet table meant for twenty. The polished mahogany surface reflected my solitary silhouette. The restaurant manager, who had been bowing and scraping before me just an hour ago, now wore a contemptuous sneer. He arrogantly informed me that my accounts had been frozen. He gave me exactly ten minutes to come up with a “compensation fee” of three hundred thousand dollars, or else he would have his men “escort” me to the back alley.
A waiter slammed the leather bill folder onto the table, the sharp smack echoing harshly in the vast, empty restaurant. I stared at the astronomical figure on the receipt, feeling a wave of disorientation.
This was supposed to be my birthday dinner.
Three years ago, I married the boss of the Greco crime family, Cassio Greco. Tonight, he brought me to this famous mob-affiliated French restaurant, ordered a lavish spread of dishes and vintage wine, and promised me that his inner circle would arrive shortly. Then, he pressed a cold kiss to my cheek, made an excuse about taking a phone call, and walked out the front doors.
I waited for three hours. The candles burned out, and the restaurant emptied. Not a single person showed up.
I reached into my designer bag for my black card, only to find the cold surface of my compact mirror.
An astringent sourness rose in my throat, and a numbing sensation spread from my fingertips through my entire body.
Cassio had taken the card from my bag before we even left the penthouse, claiming he would handle all the expenses.
I picked up my phone and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. Seconds later, the screen flickered and went completely dark—the battery was dead.
The restaurant manager marched over to my table, his previous subservient demeanor entirely gone. With his arms crossed, he looked down at me condescendingly, his eyes failing to hide his hostility as he demanded to know if I had an alternative payment method.
I told him my husband would be back any minute.
The manager let out a dry, abrasive laugh. He reminded me that the mafia never allows debts to be delayed, regardless of whose wife it is.
Then, a flicker of cruelty flashed in his eyes as he deliberately brought up what happened to Lola last month.
Lola was Cassio’s secretary, but within the syndicate, it was an open secret that she was his mistress.
Last month, I discovered that she had been abusing a credit card the family had given me, buying piles of luxury bags and jewelry, all while spreading rumors that I was nothing but a useless trophy wife.
To strike back at her blatant disrespect, I froze the illicit accounts she used for her spending sprees, which left her unable to pay off a massive debt she had racked up at an underground casino.
She was briefly detained and taught a lesson by the family’s enforcers, and it was Cassio who eventually bailed her out.
When I confronted Cassio about it, he brushed my actions off as the “jealousy of an aging woman,” completely dismissing the insult she had dealt to our marriage vows.
Now, looking at the predatory smile on the manager’s face, a dark certainty settled in my heart.
This was all Cassio’s meticulously planned revenge, all for the sake of his mistress.
As if summoned by my very thoughts, the air across the restaurant suddenly shifted. The heavy oak doors creaked loudly on their hinges, and the distant clatter of cutlery abruptly ceased.
Cassio strolled into the restaurant, his arm wrapped tightly around Lola’s waist, pulling her flush against his side.
A trailing entourage of armed goons and drunk, corrupt businessmen followed them in, their faces flushed with alcohol and the eager anticipation of a good show.
Cassio stopped a few paces away from me, his gaze sweeping over me with utter disdain.
He deliberately projected his voice, letting it echo theatrically into every corner of the room: “Since you love punishing people who can’t pay their bills so much, it’s only right you experience that exact humiliation for yourself.”
The onlookers began to whisper. “Gold-digging bitch,” “Slept her way to the top,” and “Now she’s finally getting tossed out.”
My husband had personally designed this brutal public execution, tearing my dignity to shreds.
Cassio pulled out a chair, seating Lola at the table next to mine as if attending to a queen, loudly promising that he would avenge her. Lola slowly pressed her lips to Cassio’s in a deeply possessive kiss.
Then, she turned to me, her eyes brimming with smug malice: “What right does a useless, ordinary woman like you have to freeze my accounts?”
Before I could answer, Lola grabbed a bottle of reserve red wine from the ice bucket and hurled it viciously at my feet.
The glass shattered. The dark red liquid splashed over my calves, staining my white silk dress like fresh blood.
“You are nothing!” Lola shrieked. “You have no money, no power! Cassio pays for me, but you have absolutely nothing!”
Cassio sneered, taking his time to light a cigar. He told me that if I could come up with the cash, I could pay the bill and get the hell out. The crowd erupted into roaring laughter. One of his associates pointed at me and shouted that without Cassio’s protection, I was nothing but a lamb waiting to be slaughtered in this city.
My Foolish Husband’s Regret Comes Late Chapter 2
Serena’s POV
Cassio raised a hand, and the grating laughter in the room instantly died down.
His voice rang out loud and clear in the sudden silence, carrying an unquestionable authority as he issued a public decree.
“Anyone who dares to help her tonight makes an enemy of the entire Greco family.”
A few legitimate business partners who had been secretly shooting me looks of pity immediately shrank back into their chairs, their eyes darting away, terrified of drawing the mafia’s wrath.
Low murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, and I could clearly hear some bold whispers noting that the boss obviously favored his young, beautiful mistress over his own wife.
That was the moment my heart shattered.
I stood up, the wine-soaked dress clinging to me like a freezing shroud. I grabbed the lapels of Cassio’s tailored suit, consumed by fury: “You orchestrated this entire humiliation just to elevate your mistress?”
Cassio stared at my hands gripping him with pure disgust. Instead of answering, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face with brutal force.
The sheer impact threw me back into my chair. The metallic taste of blood instantly bloomed in my mouth as he finally spat out a single, cold word: “Yes.”
I sat there in a daze, the stinging in my cheek the only thing grounding me to reality.
In a trance, my mind drifted back to our wedding three years ago. He had sworn before God and the family that he would protect me with his life. Now it was clear that the dignity of a mafia wife was nothing but a laughable lie.
I married Cassio out of pure love, not for wealth. The deepest irony was that it was precisely because I secretly used my hidden network to clear his path that his once-insignificant family was pushed to the apex of the city.
Yet, Cassio felt no gratitude. He casually pulled a linen napkin and slowly wiped the hand he had just used to strike me, as if he had touched something filthy. Watching his movements, I finally realized that these three years of marriage were an absolute scam.
He scoffed, tossing the soiled napkin onto my lap. He leaned down, his breath, heavy with the scent of whiskey, fanning across my face.
“If you can’t pay,” he said, his voice lethal, “I’ll have the manager strip your clothes off. My men will throw you out into the street and let the whole city see what happens to you.”
The vicious threat drew a chorus of laughter. The men in the crowd raked their sickening gazes over my body. They muttered among themselves that Serena Greco was finished—I had officially been stripped of the title of the Don’s wife.
Over by the mahogany bar, a few greasy, middle-aged capos lazily swirled their drinks, openly evaluating my chest and legs, their eyes flashing with the excited anticipation of watching me be publicly humiliated.
I could even hear them crudely making bets on who would get the privilege of dragging me out the door.
I looked up at Cassio. The man I thought I knew was gone, replaced by an absolute demon.
The card slot in my purse was empty—he had taken it back at the penthouse.
The flashing low-battery warning was no accident either.
The conspiracy of this public execution finally pieced itself together in my mind. He had even calculated the delay in my ability to call for help, savoring every second of my torment.
The manager took a step closer, slipping a gleaming brass knuckle over his fingers. He smiled obsequiously at Cassio: “Boss, should I start tearing her clothes off now?”
My Foolish Husband’s Regret Comes Late Chapter 3
Serena’s POV
Lola stood up, her stiletto heels clicking sharply and urgently against the smooth marble floor. She stalked toward me step by step, her gaze like a knife.
“Where is the protection fee, Serena?” Her tone was sickeningly sweet but as deadly as a viper. “I demand you pay up immediately.”
She had no intention of letting this go, smugly bringing up old scores. Even the time she was locked in the syndicate’s holding cell for maxing out my card and spent the whole night crying had somehow become a badge of honor for her to flaunt.
She pulled a cigarette from her designer bag, lit it, and leaned in, blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into my face. Through the acrid haze, she smiled arrogantly, acting as if she possessed a death-immunity card bestowed by Cassio himself.
I didn’t hesitate.
I shot to my feet, raised my hand, and slapped her across the face with everything I had. The crisp smack echoed through the suddenly dead-silent room.
Lola shrieked and stumbled backward, dropping her cigarette. Sparks flew, burning a scorch mark into the pristine white tablecloth.
Cassio roared, a deep bellow exploding from deep within his chest. Infuriated that I dared to strike his mistress in public, he flew into a rage and immediately signaled his enforcers to intervene.
Two massive goons lunged at me. Their rough, calloused hands clamped down on my collarbones like iron vises, their thumbs digging deeply into the hollows of my shoulders. The pain forced a sharp gasp from my lips.
They forcefully shoved me back into the chair, pinning me heavily against the mahogany backrest.
I glared at Cassio, my chest heaving.
“Why do you get to trample on the very bottom line of loyalty,” I said, my voice trembling but filled with suppressed rage, “while I don’t even have the right to fight back?”
My heart was as cold as frost, a murderous intent surging beneath the surface.
It was the ultimate irony. The Greco family had only managed to become the top syndicate in the city within three short years because I had secretly mobilized my family’s massive power to clear their obstacles.
Originally, at tonight’s birthday dinner, I had planned to reveal my true identity.
I was going to tell him the truth: that I am the heiress of the Falcone family, the descendant of the most powerful, cold-blooded mafia empire on the East Coast.
I even intended to bring him into my family’s inner circle and introduce him to my father—the supreme mafia don.
I never expected him to design such a despicable betrayal.
But in those three hours of lonely waiting, a monumental shift had occurred within me.
Before my phone died, I sent one last encrypted message, ordering my syndicate’s legal advisory team to immediately draft the severance papers.
“Cassio, do you really plan to let me walk out of here in such disgrace?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm and flat.
Cassio sneered, casually adjusting his gold cufflinks.
“Serena, this humiliation is exactly what I designed,” he admitted smugly, a flash of cruel satisfaction in his eyes. “It’s meant to put a pathetic commoner right back where she belongs.”
Taking advantage of the goons pinning me down, Lola stepped forward, her face twisted in rage.
She clenched her fist and punched me hard in the jaw.
My head snapped back, my vision blurring for a second as the coppery taste of blood flooded my mouth.
Before I could recover, Lola violently grabbed my hair. A sharp pain shot through my scalp as she forced my head up, making me look directly at her.
She gave me a choice.
“You can either be thrown into the syndicate’s underground cells and let the men have their fun with you,” her hot, foul breath hit my face, “or you can crawl out that door on your knees like a dog.”
I balled my hands into tight fists, focusing so hard that even the searing pain in my scalp felt distant.
I looked straight at Cassio, completely ignoring Lola as if she were nothing but a buzzing fly.
I made a cold vow, my voice low and icy.
“When the Greco family is reduced to ashes, Cassio,” I said, barely above a whisper, “the blood of every single one of your men will be on your hands.”
Lola let out a grating, fake laugh, giving my hair one last vicious tug before letting go.
The surrounding socialites and mob bosses joined in her mockery, their laughter echoing off the marble walls, sneering at me as if I were a delusional heroine in some cheap romance novel.
“Is she having a psychotic break?” one of the capos by the bar sneered.
Infuriated by my unyielding attitude, Cassio grabbed a half-eaten plate of steak from the table and hurled it at me with a curse.
The heavy ceramic plate slammed into my shoulder and shattered. Scalding grease and black pepper sauce slid across my exposed skin, adding another filthy stain to my already ruined dress.
“Stop bluffing, you crazy bitch! Pay your debt!” he roared.
Taking the cue, the restaurant manager approached with a dozen heavily armed thugs. He expertly racked the slide of his pistol, the crisp click cutting through the crowd’s laughter as he coldly asked how I intended to settle the bill.
The goons loosened their grip on me slightly, allowing me to stand. I scanned the hostile crowd, my eyes slowly sweeping across the sea of betrayal.
I locked eyes with a legitimate businessman who used to work with the Greco family.
Ignoring the guns pointed at me, I walked straight toward him.
The man shrank back into the leather booth, terrified that I would ask him for money and draw Cassio’s wrath.
“Relax,” I said in a low voice dripping with utter contempt. “I just want to borrow your phone to call my family so they can bring the money.”
The room erupted into roaring laughter once again.
“An ordinary family is going to pay off a mafia debt?” someone from the crowd mocked loudly.
Lola pointed her perfectly manicured finger at the trembling businessman.
“Give her the phone,” she ordered.
She turned to me with a cold smirk and announced, “You have thirty minutes, Serena.”
Pointing toward the bar, she threatened that if the money didn’t arrive by then, that fat, sleazy capo would publicly humiliate me and strip me bare.
The capo slowly licked his lips, taking a step forward with the excited gleam of a beast staring down dying prey.
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