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After My Don Found His Ninety-ninth Mistress, I Left Novel Cover

After My Don Found His Ninety-ninth Mistress, I Left

For eight years, Damien Luciano’s wife endured absolute humiliation. Dubbed Chicago's ultimate mafia doormat, she tolerated her husband's endless string of public affairs, holding onto his long-broken wedding vows. But during their eighth-anniversary family dinner, Damien crosses the final line. To accommodate his ninety-ninth mistress, Bianca, he demands his wife surrender both her bedroom and her ruby necklace. Instead of crying, she calmly nods, calls his mother Isabella, and declares she is finally leaving.
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Chapter 2

"Fine. It's just a ring. Change it if you want."

Damien looked stunned for a second, but relief quickly washed over his features at my easy compliance.

As if to compensate, his tone softened for a rare moment.

"How about this? You should come to the charity auction tomorrow, too."

"If you see anything you like, just bid on it. Consider it my way of making it up to you."

I was about to refuse, but before I could speak, Damien took a call and walked away.

He left me and Bianca standing there, face to face.

She looked at me, the gentle smile on her face instantly vanishing, replaced by a triumphant sneer.

"Elena, sometimes I almost feel sorry for you. It must be hard watching your husband with a different woman on his arm every day, isn't it?"

"You'd be better off showing some dignity and stepping aside sooner. Maybe then people would at least praise you for being considerate."

"After all, if it were me, I could never shamelessly cling to this place for eight years."

My expression remained placid, but my eyes were filled with scorn.

"You're picking up my cast-offs. Who gave you the nerve to speak to me like this?"

"Whatever happens, I am the Donna of the Luciano family. When did a cheap tramp like you earn the right to lecture me?"

"You'd be better off spending that energy on Damien. I've seen your type come and go. Don't be the last to realize when you've been discarded."

Bianca's face flushed crimson at my words.

I had no more words for her and turned on my heel, stalking into the guest room.

On the day of the auction, I arrived at the venue as planned.

Isabella's birthday was in a few days, and a Renaissance-era manuscript she adored was up for auction.

It would be my parting gift to her.

I had just taken my seat when a commotion erupted outside the door. I looked up and saw that familiar figure.

Damien strolled in, holding Bianca's hand, instantly drawing every eye in the room.

They looked at Bianca, then at me, their eyes filled with mockery.

Bianca stroked the dazzling diamond necklace around her neck, shooting a deliberate glance my way.

I feigned ignorance, my eyes fixed on the stage.

The moment the Renaissance manuscript was presented, I raised my paddle without hesitation.

The auctioneer saw my paddle and began the bidding.

"Two and a half million going once... going twice... sold to—"

Just as the auctioneer was about to finish, Bianca's paddle went up.

"Five million dollars!"

I turned to look in disbelief, only to see a triumphant Bianca and an indulgent Damien.

As the Don, Damien knew better than anyone that the manuscript wasn't worth that price.

But he showed no intention of stopping her. Instead, his eyes, as he looked at Bianca, were filled with pride.

That doting expression sent me back in time, to the first year we were together.

Damien had always been Chicago's most infamous playboy, a fixture at every high-society event.

But that first year, he was a changed man, dedicating himself to my happiness.

During the day, he would show me all over Chicago, and at night, he would whisk me away to auction houses.

I still remember the pride in his eyes the first time I mustered the courage to raise my paddle.

It was identical to the way he was looking at Bianca now.

Back then, I truly believed I was different.

Even though I'd long since given up on him, the memory laid over the present, tightening a bitter knot in my chest.

I forced my thoughts back to the present, watching numbly as the auctioneer prepared to slam the gavel down.

But just as the gavel was about to fall, the doors to the auction hall burst open.

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