Too Late for Regret: The Mafia Heir's Ruined Bride

I had been married to Ethan Vance, the ruthless heir of the Vance Mafia Syndicate, for five years. Yet, the time we spent actually talking to each other was pitifully scarce. His heart belonged entirely to Scarlett Drake, his elite female assassin. On our wedding day, when he heard that Scarlett had been shot, Ethan abandoned me at the altar to save her. I grabbed his arm, begging him to stay, only to be met with his cold sneer: "Get out of my way, Sera. You’re nothing but a nuisance!" During our honeymoon, he received a distress signal from Scarlett and abandoned me on a remote island. I nearly died at the hands of kidnappers. And now, ambushed by a rival gang, I lay on the cold ground with three stab wounds. Yet, Ethan demanded that the medics treat Scarlett first—even though she only had a minor scratch. Clutching my bleeding stomach, I knelt in the dirt and begged him: "Ethan, please save me first... I’m pregnant. This is our baby!" But he shoved me aside carelessly, muttering a half-hearted excuse: "We can have other babies. But Scarlett’s wound can’t wait!" The ambulance sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust. In that pool of blood, my body and my baby grew cold together. My baby died. And on that day, Ethan, the woman who loved you to her very bones died with him. By the time the blood stopped flowing, my vision was blurring. Just as I thought death was claiming me, hurried footsteps echoed from the distance. "Stay with me if you want to live! Press here!" A deep, unfamiliar male voice barked. He grabbed my hand, pressing it firmly against the gash on my abdomen. Then, he lifted me from the pool of blood and ran toward a speeding car. Before I slipped into utter darkness, I heard him growl into his radio: "To the hospital. Save her at all costs. The woman Ethan Vance threw away? I’m keeping her." But when I woke up, the hospital room was empty. A nurse walked in to change my IV drip, and I seized the chance to ask: "Do you know where the gentleman who brought me here is?" The nurse blinked in surprise. "Oh, that kind gentleman? Once he knew you were out of danger, he paid your medical bills and left. He didn't leave a name, but he specifically told us to make sure you rest well and not worry about the costs." He left? My brow furrowed. From what he said before I passed out, he clearly knew Ethan. But who was he? Why save me? What was his motive? Seeing how stressed I looked, the nurse finished adjusting my meds and gently advised: "Don't overthink things right now. You just had a miscarriage. You need absolute rest." With that, she left the room. Miscarriage... My hand instinctively drifted to my bandaged stomach. It was flat. My baby was really gone. Just as waves of agonizing grief threatened to drown me, the ward door swung open. It was Ethan. He rushed to my bedside, looking relieved. "Sera, you’re awake! When I sent my men back to get you, the alley was already empty. They said a bystander found you and brought you here. I came as soon as I heard!" As he spoke, he gently reached his hand toward my lower belly. "I’m just glad you’re okay. So... how is our baby?" I stared at him with cold, dead eyes. My voice was eerily calm. "Dead." Ethan’s hand froze mid-air. He looked up, locking eyes with me. "What... what did you say?" His shocked reaction was utterly laughable. I turned my face away, my voice dripping with pure sarcasm. "I said, the baby is dead!" "Didn't you already expect this when you chose to save Scarlett first? Who are you putting on this fake, grieving father act for?" Predictably, the moment I mentioned Scarlett, Ethan's face darkened. His brows furrowed in anger as he defended himself. "Sera, how can you say that? I had no choice. Scarlett’s condition was..." Before he could finish, a nurse’s aide burst into the room, looking frantic. "Mr. Vance! Thank goodness I found you! Miss Drake is doing poorly. Her wound is bleeding again, and she’s refusing treatment. She says she won't cooperate unless you're there!" Ethan hesitated, looking back and forth between the aide and my pale, sickly face. In the end, he turned to me with a helpless sigh. "Sera, you see how it is... Scarlett is having another emergency. I..." "Go. I'm tired and I need to sleep." I was too exhausted to listen to his pathetic excuses. I just wanted him gone. Ethan seemed taken aback by my lack of resistance. He let out a sigh of relief, though a flicker of guilt crossed his features. As he stood up, he offered a careless comfort: "Rest well then. I’ll come back to see you later." With that, he turned on his heel without a shred of hesitation and followed the aide out. The door clicked shut. Listening to the sound of Ethan’s retreating, hurried footsteps, the cynical smirk on my lips faded. See? Whenever Scarlett needed him, even for the smallest scratch, Ethan would always abandon me. Once, twice, every single time. Not even the death of our child could keep him by my side for a second longer. What a joke of a marriage. I lowered my eyes, and my gaze caught a brand-new smartphone sitting on the nightstand. I reached out and picked it up. The screen lit up instantly, displaying two unread messages: [Sera, this is Arthur Vance. You have suffered too much these past five years. It was my old-fashioned insistence on our family alliance that bound you and Ethan to this hopeless marriage. The Vance family owes you a massive apology. It's time to end this mistake.] [In ten days, someone will come to take you away and give you your freedom back. This is what our family owes you.] Second ChapterIt was a message from Old Man Arthur. I took a deep breath, feeling a massive weight lift off my chest. The toxic arranged marriage was finally coming to an end. Without hesitation, I typed back: [Alright.] With Arthur's promise, I focused on recovering in the hospital. I didn't even bother to text Ethan. Perhaps driven by guilt, Ethan began visiting me much more frequently. However, every time he came, his phone would ring within ten minutes, or an aide would rush in with some ridiculous excuse—Scarlett’s wound was hurting, Scarlett refused to take her meds, Scarlett was having an emotional breakdown—to drag him away. Unlike before, I didn't scream, cry, or beg him to stay. I didn't even show a hint of annoyance. I just stared at him blankly. Before he could even make an excuse, I would tell him, "Go on. The nurses are here to take care of me." At first, Ethan left without a second thought. But strangely, the more "understanding" and indifferent I became, the more uncomfortable he got. Sometimes he would linger at the doorway, casting a backward glance at me. The next time he visited, he brought more things—expensive supplements, designer bags, and jewelry soon piled up in the corner of my room. He would try to make small talk: "How are you feeling today? Does the wound still hurt?" Once, when Scarlett called, he actually declined it in front of me. Of course, he only lasted a few minutes. When the phone rang again, he left with a dark expression anyway. But I didn't care anymore. Six days later, I checked myself out of the hospital. Though I wasn't fully recovered, I was mobile enough. It was time to go back to the Vance estate, pack my things, and prepare for my departure. The moment I pushed open the front door of our mansion, I froze. Ethan was sitting on the couch, and Scarlett, her arm wrapped in bandages, was practically melted into his lap. Their intimacy was glaring. Sensing someone's presence, Ethan looked up. An awkward look flashed across his face, and he instinctively pushed Scarlett away a little. "Sera, why are you back so suddenly? Why didn't you let me know you were being discharged so I could pick you up?" "Scarlett injured her arm, so she can't look after herself. It's not safe for her outside either, so I brought her here to stay for a while until she heals." Scarlett stood behind him, her eyes practically dripping with smug triumph. She sighed with fake innocence: "Sera, I’m so sorry to trouble you." "Ethan was just so worried about me and insisted on taking care of me personally. I really couldn't say no..." I didn't have the energy to deal with her manipulative BS. My gaze locked onto Ethan. "Fine." "Since you're giving her 'personal care,' the master bedroom will be much more convenient. I'll take the guest room. Suit yourselves." Without another word, I turned and walked upstairs. But just as I was getting ready to sleep that night, chaos broke out downstairs. Screams of agony from Scarlett and panicked shouts from Ethan echoed from the master bedroom. I followed the noise. Scarlett was collapsed by the side of the master bed, her face flushed red and her neck covered in hives. The family doctor finished a hasty examination and reported to Ethan: "Mr. Vance, Miss Drake is having a severe allergic reaction. The source seems to be the bedding—it contains cheap, low-grade down feathers, which she is highly allergic to." Before I could even process this, a young maid piped up, trembling in fear: "Sir, it wasn't us! The day before Mrs. Vance was discharged, she ordered us to change the bedding in the master room to these specific sheets! We were just following her orders!" Ethan whipped around, his furious gaze landing on me standing by the door. "Sera! What did you do to Scarlett?!" he roared. "Just because I brought her here, you resort to such petty, dirty tricks to poison her? When did you become so damn vicious?!" I stood there, watching Ethan’s raging face, finding this cheap setup utterly ridiculous. I couldn't help but sneer back: "Ethan, Scarlett is your top assassin." "When she's on a mission, she can tell if a drink is poisoned in a split second. And now you're telling me she couldn't tell her own bedsheets were compromised? Are you hearing yourself?" Ethan choked on his words for a second. But he was too blinded by anger to listen. He glared at me with deep disgust: "Shut up! Scarlett is weak and badly injured right now. It's completely normal for her senses to be dull! You committed this crime, and now you're making up excuses!" I shook my head. I knew there was no point in arguing with him. In his eyes, I was already guilty, and anything I said was just a lie. "If that's what you want to believe, go ahead." "I have nothing to say." I pulled my cardigan tighter around myself and turned to go back to my room. But Ethan wasn't about to let me go. He lunged forward, blocking my path, and barked at his bodyguards: "Grab her!" "You poison someone and think you can just go back to bed? It's not that easy." Ethan turned to a trembling servant and ordered coldly: "Go and blend a cup of pure, concentrated mango juice right now." My entire body shuddered, and I looked at him in absolute horror. Third ChapterEthan knew. He knew damn well that I had a life-threatening allergy to mangoes! My pupils dilated, and acting purely on survival instinct, I spun around to run toward the guest room. I needed to get my phone and call Arthur! But Ethan had spent years in the brutal underworld; his reflexes were far superior to mine. Before I could even take a step, he grabbed my shoulder in a vice grip. His other hand violently pinched my jaw, forcing my mouth open. "Scared now?" "Too late!" He sneered, snatching the thick, yellow mango juice from the servant and pouring it down my throat without a shred of hesitation. I thrashed wildly, my nails digging into his arms until they bled, but he didn't even flinch. Once the glass was empty, he threw me onto the floor like a piece of trash. Within seconds, my throat began to swell shut. Gasping for air became an agonizing struggle. I curled up on the carpet, clawing at my neck as my face turned from red to purple, then to a deathly, pale gray. Ethan stood over me, his face a mask of cold indifference. Beside him, Scarlett smirked with twisted satisfaction. Just when I thought my lungs would give out completely, the family doctor gathered his courage and whispered: "Mr. Vance... if this continues, she will die!" Silence hung heavy in the room for a few agonizing seconds. Then, Ethan clicked his tongue in annoyance: "Ugh, what a pain. Give her an EpiPen. Just don't let her die here." Without another glance at me, he bent down, scooped Scarlett up in his arms with utmost care, and murmured gently: "It’s okay, Scarlett." "The servants have changed the bedding. I'll carry you back to rest. Don't worry about this nonsense." Their silhouettes disappeared from my sight. Fortunately, the doctor injected me with the anti-allergy medication, and my throat slowly opened up. But because of Ethan's cruel attitude, none of the servants dared to help me up. I lay there on the cold hardwood floor like a dying fish until midnight. It was only when I regained a sliver of strength that I dragged my bruised, shaking body back to the guest room. The moment I collapsed onto the bed, I checked my phone. Only three days left. In three days, I would be entirely free. After that night, I learned my lesson. I kept myself locked in the guest room, refusing to step outside unless absolutely necessary. I just wanted to quietly survive the next three days. But peace is a luxury the mafia never allows. I didn't expect Scarlett to strike again so soon. The night before Arthur was scheduled to pick me up, as I finished packing my bags, my door was violently kicked open! Scarlett stormed in, flanked by a dozen heavily armed Vance Syndicate thugs. She pointed a finger at me, screaming to the men: "It's her! Seraphina Miller!" "I found the proof! She’s the rat who leaked our harbor shipping route to our enemies. Because of her, our cargo was hijacked, and so many of our brothers were killed!" Fourth ChapterThe moment the words left her mouth, the eyes of the thugs flared with murderous rage. In the underworld, cargo heists and dead brothers were the ultimate betrayal—punishable only by death. Right then, Ethan pushed through the crowd, his face grim. He stepped in and asked: "What's going on here?" Scarlett grabbed his arm, pointing dramatically at me: "Ethan, I found proof of the mole!" "It’s Sera! She was the one who leaked the shipping route! Those men had been with the Vance family for over five years. Their blood is on her hands!" Ethan’s fists clenched, his body shaking as he tried to contain his fury. The syndicate and his brothers-in-arms were his absolute red lines. "Where is the proof?" Scarlett immediately gestured to a guard, who brought forward a burner phone and several printed call logs: "I searched her room myself last night while she went downstairs." "There are logs of calls made to an untraceable number right before the heist. Our tech team recovered the data. It's her!" With the "evidence" laid out, the thugs began shouting for my blood. I stared at the burner phone, panic rising. "That’s a lie! I lost that phone weeks ago during the ambush! The only phone I have now is the new one Arthur gave me!" "Ethan, if you don't believe me, just call your grandfather. He will clear my name!" I desperately pointed to the new phone on my nightstand, hoping to prove my innocence. But when Ethan heard "Arthur," his eyes turned to blocks of ice. He sneered, as if my fate was already sealed. "My grandfather? He’s been bedridden and in critical care for months. Even I haven't been allowed to see him. You expect me to believe he personally gave you a phone? Sera, if you're going to lie, at least make it believable!" "Call him? A dirty traitor like you doesn't deserve to disturb my grandfather!" He didn't believe a single word. My heart sank into a bottomless pit. I struggled weakly: "I'm telling the truth! Look at the texts—" "Enough!" Ethan roared, cutting me off: "Caught red-handed, and you still have the audacity to lie?!" He glared at me, his eyes burning with disappointment and cold rage. "It seems the mango juice from a few days ago wasn't enough to teach you a lesson." He turned to his guards, his voice chillingly cold: "Throw her into the flooded dungeon. No one lets her out without my direct order!" They dragged me down into the freezing, flooded basement dungeon. The filthy, foul-smelling water rose to my chest, quickly draining all the warmth from my body. Rats and insects gnawed at my flesh in the darkness. By nightfall, I was burning up with a dangerously high fever. Sometime later, the heavy iron door creaked open. Scarlett walked in alone. With no one else around, she didn't bother hiding her venomous, ugly face. She stared at me with pure malice: "Sera, how much longer are you going to cling to the title of Mrs. Vance? You’ve been sticking to Ethan like a parasite just because of some ancient contract made by that half-dead old man." She squatted down, shining a bright flashlight directly into my swollen eyes, and sneered: "You know, it’s remarkably easy for someone to die in this wet cell. If a guard 'accidentally' forgets about you and lets you drown... well, what a tragic accident that would be." "So, be a good girl and confess to being the mole. Maybe I'll pity you and ask Ethan to spare your pathetic life." "Otherwise, you can rot in this sewer!" I slowly lifted my head. Squinting through my matted hair, I gathered the very last ounce of my strength and spat right in her face. Scarlett didn't expect me to be so stubborn. Wiping my spit from her cheek, her face contorted with hysterical rage. She raised her hand to slap me across the face, but footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Her expression shifted instantly, and she froze. Ethan walked in, his face grim, his cold eyes sweeping over my battered state. "Still refusing to tell the truth, Sera?" "Keep playing tough, and even I won't be able to protect you." I forced my head up, my body aching all over, yet I gritted my teeth: "I already told you the truth..." "Why should I confess to something I didn't do?" My defiance completely broke his patience. Ethan's rage boiled over. Laughing coldly, he whipped out a heavy leather whip from his belt and handed it to Scarlett. He gave a brutal command: "Fine. Still unrepentant, I see." "Scarlett, you do it. Teach her what happens to those who betray the Vance family and refuse to repent." I gasped, my body trembling uncontrollably. If Scarlett got her hands on me, she would torture me to death. A flash of sadistic glee crossed Scarlett’s eyes as she bowed her head obediently: "Yes, sir." She took the whip, stepped up to me, and whispered in a voice only I could hear: "You brought this on yourself, you little bitch!" With a cruel whistle, the leather whip cut through the air and slashed violently across my skin. She whipped me with a savagery worse than any professional torturer, pouring all her jealousy and venom into every single strike. Ethan stood just feet away, watching with a blank expression. I didn't know how I survived it. My agonizing screams echoed through the wet dungeon. The pain was so intense that I prayed for death to claim me right then and there. Finally, on the twenty-second strike, merciful darkness took me. When I opened my eyes again, a faint sliver of morning light filtered through the small, grated window. I lay collapsed in the filthy water like a discarded rag doll, my breath shallow. Suddenly, the dungeon door clicked open soundlessly. A shadow slipped inside with predatory grace—it was the man who had saved me before! He rushed to my side, using a silenced pistol to shoot through my chains. Lifting me into his arms, he whispered urgently: "Hang in there, Sera. On Arthur's orders, I'm taking you out of here." I slumped against his chest, too weak to even murmur a reply. Only the hot tears spilling from my eyes burned against my skin. Five years of marriage. One dead child, and a broken body. Ethan Vance, we are done. We should never cross paths again, not in this life, and not in the next. At long last... I am free. Fifth Chapter