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You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don

Author: Gong Zi

Chapter 1

Word Count: 731 | Released on: Today at 16:41

Dante asked for a divorce o

n his eyes, and told me

," he wept. "God has f

ng me "broken" because I hadn't

I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry v

he truth I had bur

slid the file across the desk:

s the st

ia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal p

for a "miracle" that was

ivorce papers

any, put on a blood-red dress, and

come to

ector and show the entire underworld exa

pte

the divorce papers, and that simple, dismissive ge

the most feared man in the city, drumme

the warmth that used to make my knees weak. "She

talking ab

ing about h

cument that would end e

ty vellum, the kind used for tr

d, marriage

cause I had failed the one d

given hi

ed up

didn't

ar, a skill I acquired living in the shadow

d, shifting

n his charcoal suit, t

he rot benea

pt in the safe behind th

hat made him scream in

reality he was terrif

, his tone softening just enough to be cruel. "

*Ome

y silence fo

ide while his mother

bal concoctions she forced d

he truth to prote

d wrapper because he found someone else

ned m

Viti

page, severing it from my identity

paper away the mo

't look

ure, relief washing ove

ne," he w

, buttoning

yed s

the shards of my dignity be

e have to file this today. The christening is nex

o marry her

se me before the

my legs feel

d since I was nineteen out in

Chapter End

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You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don

Gong Zi Mafia

“On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna. He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant. "It's a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son." He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years. He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman. They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago. I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.* Dante was the sterile one. I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret. Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible. I signed the divorce papers without a tear. Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening. I didn't come to object. I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was.”