Chapter 4

“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.