Happy Divorce, My Husband! Novel – I used to be a mafia princess. Now? I’m just the help. I gave up my empire for love. Walked away from the Rossini name, the gold, the power—all for one promise Edmund made me on my eighteenth birthday. “One day, baby, I’ll take you around the world.” Thirty years later, I’m invisible in my own home. Mocked by my grandsons.
Ignored by my son. And replaced—body and soul—by my perfect, venomous sister-in-law, Elizabeth. I knew. Everyone knew. Elizabeth was Edmund’s mistress. But I kept my mouth shut. I believed—foolishly—that Edmund would change. Then came my forty-eighth birthday. I dared to ask Edmund for one thing—a cruise. Just a simple cruise. He brushed me off like I was nothing. But the truth hit me like a bullet. I found their cruise tickets. Edmund and Elizabeth, sailing away with my son, my daughter-in-law, and my grandsons—all celebrating Elizabeth’s birthday.
I was left behind by all of them. I smiled, bitter and cold. Grabbed my suitcase. Booked the next flight back to my real home. Back to the dangerous daughter of a mafia king—the one Edmund always feared and the alliance he’s been desperate to control. That was the moment I found my voice—clear. Calm. Sharper than a blade. “The divorce papers are waiting for you.” There was a stunned pause, then Edmund’s voice cracked through the line, “You’re joking. You can’t divorce me.” I laughed. Cold. Cruel.
Cutting through the silence like a knife. “I can.” — I was supposed to be the ghost in the house. I never asked for jewels. Never asked for roses. Just one promise. One promise. A cruise. Edmund had said it back when he still had a soul. “One day, when we’re rich,” he whispered into my hair, “I’ll take you around the world, baby. Just us.” That was before the money. Before the empire. Before I became his wife in name, and his maid in practice. And today’s my 48th birthday. No one ever greeted me.
No cake, no candles. And I thought maybe—just maybe—it could be mine. I brought it up after dinner. He was still in his chair, polishing his pistol with that same old cloth like it was a sacred ritual. The flatscreen TV was playing some old Western no one was watching. My heart was pounding harder than it should’ve been. “Do you remember what you told me… on my 18th birthday?” I asked quietly. He didn’t look up. “Which part?” “That we’d travel. See the world together. You said once the business settled and our boy was grown… we’d go.
On a cruise. Just us.” “Are you out of your mind?” Edmund chuckled, “You think you deserve a cruise? Look at you. You look like a bamboo stick. One gust and you’re gone. You think the captain’s gonna see you and roll out a red carpet? No, Doris. He’s gonna think you’re hauling walking bacteria on board.” “But today is—” “Today’s what?” He finally looked at me. His face was older, heavier now. “You’re not young anymore. The world’s not kind to women like you out there. You’re not like Elizabeth.” There it was.
The name that always hovered between us. Elizabeth. My sister-in-law. His brother’s widow. Slim, golden-haired, always dressed like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. She judged me with her eyes every time we were in the same room. Edmund never corrected her. “She’s younger,” he continued, “travels for business. Makes appearances for the family. She’s part of the image. But you—you’ve always been the one behind the scenes. That’s where you shine. The house.
The family. You keep things running.” Behind me, the twins were laughing. My grandson. “Yeah, Ma, you look like a skeleton in a funeral dress,” said Lyle, smirking. “Smells like old mop water and something foul,” Nash added, pinching his nose. They burst into snorting laughter. No one stopped them. No one ever did. Lester, our pride and failure, leaned against the fridge and shouted across the kitchen, “Hey, Ma. Wash my clothes, yeah? My wife is busy right now. And bleach the white ones this time, unless you wanna ruin another set.” “I’m not your maid,” I murmured.
“What was that?” he snapped. “I said I’m not—” He threw a half-empty soda can at the floor. “Then what the heck are you? Because you sure as heck ain’t doing anything else in this house! You don’t bring money in.” My blood boiled. “I raised you,” I snapped. “Fed you. Stayed up when you had fevers. I’ve been working since before you were born.” “Well, maybe you should’ve worked on smelling better. You smell like a rotten corpse,” one of the twins piped. “Yeah,” snickered his brother, Nash. “It’s embarrassing just seeing her.
Our classmates said she’s so ugly, they get scared when she shows up to pick us up. Like some cast member from The Walking Dead.” They both burst into giggles. Then Edmund grabbed his pistol off the mantel, inspecting it like it mattered more than me. “We got money, Doris,” he muttered. “You know that. But I’m not wasting it on some useless help. You’re here. You got two hands. W