The Mafia Don Left Me To Die, But Now Regrets It

James’s pupils contracted sharply. His gaze locked on the bright red before him.

His face went pale in an instant, and he nearly fell to his knees.

“Why are you bleeding? Did you cut yourself on the glass? I-I didn’t mean to…”

His words tumbled out incoherently. His face etched with genuine panic and anguish. It was as though the man who had pinned her down moments ago was not him at all.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry… I am a bastard, I deserve this! We’ll go to the hospital immediately. Now!”

He scooped Mia up in his arms.

Her body was cold and limp, utterly powerless, letting him do as he pleased.

James ran out of the house, pressing his lips repeatedly to her sweat-dampened forehead.

He opened the passenger door and carefully placed her inside.

As he bent over to buckle her seatbelt, a folded slip of paper slipped from Mia’s pocket, floating lightly to the floor.

“What’s this?” James instinctively bent to pick it up. The moment his fingers touched the paper, a sudden, unexplainable pang seized his heart.

Mia tried to snatch it back, but her fingers lacked any strength.

He glimpsed the hospital’s red stamp and the words [Medical Report] on it.

He frowned as he reached to unfold it.

Then his phone rang sharply. The screen flashed Zinnia’s name, instantly seizing all his attention.

He immediately answered, not even bothering to secure the paper, shoving it into his coat pocket instead.

“James…” Zinnia’s voice trembled with tears. There seemed to be a faint sound of wind behind her. “I… I twisted my ankle while walking… it hurts so much… I can’t move…”

“What?! Where are you? Don’t move, I will be right there!” James’s voice shot up, brimming with unmasked panic and urgency. He even turned instinctively as though he was about to run in the opposite direction of the car.

“No, no, James, don’t come. It’s too much trouble. I can handle it myself…”

Zinnia’s voice grew weaker and pitiful.

“What nonsense!” snapped James, leaving no room for argument. “Stand still and send me your location! If you move on your own, just wait and see how I… punish you.”

He hung up and gripped his phone. His panic over Mia’s bleeding was already replaced by concern for Zinnia.

It was not until the thick, metallic stench of blood reached him that he finally snapped back to reality, looking into the car.

Mia remained curled in the exact position he had placed her. Her face was ghostly pale, almost lifeless.

Dark-red blood had already soaked through the light fabric of her skirt, dripping onto the floor, one drop after another.

A flicker of hesitation crossed James’s face.

“Mia, Zinnia twisted her ankle. I’m her only support. I can’t ignore her.

“I’ll have Carl take you to the hospital. Just hang on a little longer.”

Hang on?

Had she not endured enough over these three years?

“And if I don’t agree?”

James did not pause in carrying her out of the car. “Don’t be stubborn.”

He placed Mia by the roadside, thoughtfully draping his suit jacket over her.

Then he sped off in the car.

The engine’s roar soon disappeared around the corner, leaving only the dead silence and the thick scent of blood.

Mia let out a low, bitter laugh. It was worse than any sob.

“James… you will burn in hell.”

She waited so long.

She waited until her consciousness faded and her entire body trembled uncontrollably.

A black sedan screeched to a stop at the roadside.

Carl slammed the door. His face showed no concern, only undisguised annoyance, and contempt.

He had long resented Mia.

The infamous woman who only brought chaos and scandal to the don and the family, now was lying there half-dead, holding everything up.

“Trouble, as always.”

Carl muttered under his breath. He grabbed Mia’s arm like she was a piece of trash and shoved her into the back seat.

The car lurched forward. Each jolt intensified her pain.

Mia curled up on the cold leather seat.

The faint scent of James lingering on his jacket wrapped around her.

It was sharp and crueler than any knife, slicing away the last shred of her miserable awareness.

‘James, I will never love you again.’