The Unqualified Mafia Wife

They say that I have gone mad, that I put on "an act of life or death" on the day of my younger sister's coming-of-age ceremony. They also claim that I lied to my husband to gain sympathy.

However, they don't know that the true madman is the person whom they have misplaced their trust in.

I am Winifred Gardner, the eldest daughter of the Gardners, and I am also secretly married to Zachary Hood, a mafia boss. He never announced our marriage within the last three years because I'm not yet "qualified" to be the wife of a mafia boss.

My younger sister, Stella Gardner, acknowledges me as her elder sister while mixing muscle relaxants into my medications to render me weak, dull, and unable to fire a gun.

As a result, I am once again mocked as someone useless.

She steals my place, my parents' love, and my husband's trust while I'm labeled as mentally unstable and told that I pretend for the sake of sympathy.

The moment I sign the organ donation consent form, I smile. This is the only document I can sign on my own initiative.

But they're unaware that I've already recorded the truth beforehand. After I die, everyone will know who it was that poisoned me.

When that time comes, they will cry and be filled with regret.

But I will no longer forgive them.

Today, I dragged my weak frame to the organ donation center's registration office at the hospital in the city center.

The lobby was clean and brightly lit. A promotion poster for the "Lifespan Extension Project" had been pasted on a wall.

I picked up a pen and signed my name on the form with trembling hands. All of a sudden, I was filled with relief. At the very least, I didn't need anyone's permission this time.

Nevertheless, just as I signed my name, the doors were flung open.

"Winifred Gardner!"

That roar shook me up so much that I dropped the pen in my hand. My father, Barnabas Gardner, barged into the room in a neat, dark-colored suit. The attorney's badge on his chest glistened slightly.

My mother, Sara Ingram, tagged along behind him. She rushed here right after completing a surgery.

They stormed their way into the registration office as if they were arresting a culprit.

My mother did not yell. She simply interrogated me coldly, "What are you doing at a place like this?"

Her words were matter-of-fact. "It's Stella's coming-of-age ceremony today. How could you put on such an embarrassing show?"

My father scoffed. "Organ donation? Did you think that you'd be able to garner sympathy like this? As a daughter of the Gardner family, you've gone too far with your pitiful act."

I stood there, my limbs trembling.

After three months of sickness and pain, my body was almost at its breaking point. However, they couldn't see my pain. All they could see were the cracks in their reputation.

The volunteers at the registration office lowered their heads, too afraid to look at me or my parents.

My mother seized the file with my medical records and flipped casually through a couple of pages. Then, she sneered, "If you were going to fake it, at least make it convincing! Who wrote this report for you?

"Everyone at the hospital knows that you're a daughter of our family. Who was the one brave enough to help you with pulling this stunt?"

She flung the medical file in my face before everyone.

"Winifred, how is it that you love being the center of attention so much? Even Zachary is attending Stella's coming-of-age ceremony today.

"Reputable people from the mafia families are present and all the media outlets are covering the event, but you just had to come here and put on a whole show about dying, didn't you?"

My father echoed by yelling, "You are making a fool of our family's reputation! Mark my words—if you continue with this nonsense, we will disown you publicly!"

They raised their voices louder, each trying to outdo the other, while I remained completely still, like a weathered statue.

"Mom, don't blame Winnie…"

When I heard that weak voice, I shut my eyes.

Stella Gardner, in a silver evening gown, wore a matching pearl necklace—a symbol of a woman who married the Hood family's mafia boss.

She appeared pitiful as she spoke in a soft voice, "Winnie must've just been lonely. She wasn't intentionally trying to ruin my coming-of-age ceremony today…"

Stella walked toward me, seemingly moving to reach out and support me.

Instinctively, I lifted my hand to avoid her touch. However, my body was weak from the long-term consumption of muscle relaxants. Right as I lifted my hand, it fell back down immediately.

"Winnie, what are you—"

Stella let out a gasp and staggered backward all of a sudden, acting as if I had shoved her.

I lost my balance and fell backward, the back of my head slamming hard against the floor. An intense pain assailed me, and blood ran from my nose.

My mother frowned, her face full of contempt. "Quit the act! You've frightened Stella to tears. When will you finally put an end to all this fuss?"

She took Stella by the hand and prompted coldly, "Let's go. Let's not waste our time at a place like this. The guests are waiting."

My father left me with a final cold remark. "Once you've had your fun, don't bother coming back to us with your pleas."

They then left without even looking back.

The nurse at the reception stared dazedly at me. Gently, she asked, "Who will you indicate as your emergency contact?"

I answered in a soft voice, "No one."

After a moment's hesitation, she asked, "In that case… are you sure you wish to sign this document?"

I smiled and signed my name. "I'm sure."

That was my first and last time doing something without needing anyone's permission.

At night, I returned to the Gardner family's mansion all on my own. The villa, which was used for the mafia's money laundering activities, was brightly lit at this moment.

They were celebrating Stella's coming-of-age ceremony. She would turn 18 tonight.

I entered from the back door and walked through the opulent hallway. The sounds of music, laughter, popping champagne, and flashing cameras came from upstairs.

It was as if none of that had ever belonged to me.

I returned to my bedroom, which was a small storage room. I had a few old clothes, old books, and a few thousand dollars, which I saved up from working in secret.

I wrote my bank card number and password on a piece of paper and left it on the table.

Fireworks soared into the sky outside the window. That was their celebration, and the start of the three days before the end of my life.

I brushed my fingers gently across the organ donation consent form. The paper felt cold to the touch, but it was the kindest decision I had ever made in my life.

This document wasn't proof that I sought death. Instead, it was proof that I could finally decide how I wanted to die, who I died for, and how I could die with pride.