The 33rd Divorce from the Don
8.3k Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
I married Massimo Salvatore, the mafia don, thirty-two times. And divorced him thirty-two times.
Every single time for the same reason—his precious Claudia came back from her overseas treatment facility.
"She took a bullet to the head for me. Any stress could kill her." That was his only explanation.
The first divorce, I trashed the entire living room. He slapped me across the face: "Cut the DRAMA. We'll get back together once she's stable."
The third time, I followed them to the club and caught them kissing. I confronted him—got locked in the basement for seven days.
Sign the papers, take off the ring, pack my bags. Like a nightmare on repeat.
Until the thirty-third time.
A rival family grabbed both me and Claudia. With a gun to his head, he could only save one of us. I looked at him, voice breaking: "Massimo, just this once, pick me."
He walked toward her.
Four hours later, his men found me in some abandoned warehouse. Three broken ribs, blood everywhere. Our baby—gone.
Massimo camped out by Claudia's hospital bed, wouldn't leave her side. Didn't visit me once. Not even when I got discharged.
That's when I was done.
Every single time for the same reason—his precious Claudia came back from her overseas treatment facility.
"She took a bullet to the head for me. Any stress could kill her." That was his only explanation.
The first divorce, I trashed the entire living room. He slapped me across the face: "Cut the DRAMA. We'll get back together once she's stable."
The third time, I followed them to the club and caught them kissing. I confronted him—got locked in the basement for seven days.
Sign the papers, take off the ring, pack my bags. Like a nightmare on repeat.
Until the thirty-third time.
A rival family grabbed both me and Claudia. With a gun to his head, he could only save one of us. I looked at him, voice breaking: "Massimo, just this once, pick me."
He walked toward her.
Four hours later, his men found me in some abandoned warehouse. Three broken ribs, blood everywhere. Our baby—gone.
Massimo camped out by Claudia's hospital bed, wouldn't leave her side. Didn't visit me once. Not even when I got discharged.
That's when I was done.

















































