The Don's Discarded Wife
1.3k Views · Ongoing · Daisy Swift
In my third year of marriage to Cassius, I saw his childhood sweetheart Serena post a photo on a luxury yacht with the caption: "My man always knows what I want."
That yacht was supposed to be my birthday gift.
I called the dealer. "Mr. Vitale transferred it to Miss Monte."
Cassius called immediately. "Stop checking up on me. I owed her this. Why are you so insecure?"
That night, he kicked my medication across the floor. "Stop reminding everyone I owe you my life."
Three years ago, I gave him my gas mask during a shootout. The toxins destroyed my lungs.
When he burned my face with an iron, he drove me to the hospital—until Serena called crying about a burst pipe.
He shoved me out into the pouring rain. "You're not going to die. She needs me more."
For the first time in three years, I realized I should stop saving a man who'd already chosen someone else.
That yacht was supposed to be my birthday gift.
I called the dealer. "Mr. Vitale transferred it to Miss Monte."
Cassius called immediately. "Stop checking up on me. I owed her this. Why are you so insecure?"
That night, he kicked my medication across the floor. "Stop reminding everyone I owe you my life."
Three years ago, I gave him my gas mask during a shootout. The toxins destroyed my lungs.
When he burned my face with an iron, he drove me to the hospital—until Serena called crying about a burst pipe.
He shoved me out into the pouring rain. "You're not going to die. She needs me more."
For the first time in three years, I realized I should stop saving a man who'd already chosen someone else.















































