The Mafia Princess Is a Miracle Healer Chapter 01
Seven years after the divorce, my mafia ex-husband came looking for me.
He was nothing like the cold, indifferent man who’d handed me the papers.
He stood before me now, humbled, tears on his face.
“Elena, everything that happened back then was on me.”
“Give me one more chance. Come home with me.”
“Caitlyn is dying. You’re the only one Master Lee ever trained.”
“You’re the only person who can save her…”
I’d waited seven years for that apology.
It finally came. It just wasn’t for me.
I let out a quiet sigh.
I pulled off my glove and held up my wrist, where layers of old scars criss-crossed the skin.
“You’ve got the wrong person. I haven’t been able to hold a needle in years.”
“Carlo. Have you forgotten?”
“You’re the one who broke my hands. Seven years ago. Yourself.”
Seven years had passed.
The broken bones had been reset.
The cuts had healed over.
At first glance, I looked like anyone else.
But I knew the truth.
Some people. Some things.
Could never go back to what they were.
I put my glove back on, picked up the broom leaning against the wall, and got back to work.
Carlo stood up. He watched me for a long moment, jaw tight.
Then he saw it. The easy, practiced rhythm of my sweeping.
Something shifted in his eyes. Shock he couldn’t quite hide.
“Elena, you’re using those hands for this? Cleaning floors?”
“Are you doing this just to spite me?”
“You used to cry over a paper cut. You told me those hands were everything to you.”
I used to be Elena Ross, a daughter of one of New York’s most powerful families.
My father was the underground’s most respected neutral broker.
I trained under a reclusive Chinese-American healer, mastering Eastern acupuncture and ancient medicine.
I was young, talented, celebrated by the Upper East Side elite and cherished by Carlo, the man my family had arranged me to marry.
I never had to worry about surviving.
But now…
People do what they have to do to get by.
The bar’s front window caught my reflection. Tired eyes, a worn-down face.
I still had half a shift left.
I didn’t have the time or the energy to take a walk down memory lane with Carlo.
I bent down and wiped the grime off the glass.
Then I picked the broom back up and swept over every inch of floor he’d walked across.
Carlo felt the brush-off. He reached out and grabbed my arm.
There was an edge under his voice. Barely there, but I caught it.
“Elena, it’s been seven years. Why are you still this stubborn?”
“This is someone’s life. Your best friend’s life.”
“You’re really just going to let her die?”
My best friend.
My best friend who crawled into my husband’s bed and helped tear my whole life apart.
I let it go.
I’d seen enough loss in these seven years. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.
The wind was picking up outside, scattering leaves everywhere.
I wasn’t staying late tonight. I picked up the pace.
Carlo snapped.
He grabbed the broom out of my hands.
Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward his car.
“I know you’re still angry about what happened. But haven’t I already apologized?”
“You’re talented enough to have fixed your own hands. Why are you still holding onto the past?”
“Alright, alright. I know you’re proud and you’ve got a temper.”
“But I’m promising you: save Caitlyn and I will make it right. For real this time.”
“Whatever you want. Just name it.”
What he took from me could never be given back.
Everything I’d lost was gone for good.
