My Foolish Husband's Regret Comes Late

na's

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

mack echoing harshly in the vast, empty restaurant. I stared at the

sed to be my b

ated French restaurant, ordered a lavish spread of dishes and vintage wine, and promised me that his inner circle would arriv

s burned out, and the restaurant emp

r my black card, only to find the

at, and a numbing sensation spread fro

before we even left the penthouse, cla

straight to voicemail. Seconds later, the screen fli

irely gone. With his arms crossed, he looked down at me condescendingly, his eyes fail

usband would be

reminded me that the mafia never allows debts

n his eyes as he deliberately brough

ithin the syndicate, it was an ope

e family had given me, buying piles of luxury bags and jewelry, all

ounts she used for her spending sprees, which left her unable to

sson by the family's enforcers, and it w

s off as the "jealousy of an aging woman," completely d

ile on the manager's face, a dar

lously planned revenge, all

ant suddenly shifted. The heavy oak doors creaked loudly on th

s arm wrapped tightly around Lola's wai

t businessmen followed them in, their faces flushed w

way from me, his gaze sweepi

corner of the room: "Since you love punishing people who can't pay their bill

ging bitch," "Slept her way to the top,"

ned this brutal public executio

if attending to a queen, loudly promising that he would avenge her.

smug malice: "What right does a useless, ordi

ttle of reserve red wine from the ice bu

uid splashed over my calves, staining

have no money, no power! Cassio pays fo

y the bill and get the hell out. The crowd erupted into roaring laughter. One of his associates pointed at me