Gia pressed her palms flat against Falco’s chest, her posture intimate.

The sight pierced my eyes, awakening memories I had buried for four years.

The gritty bottom of the underworld, where Falco and I first met.

Bleeding and bruised fighting for turf, in a world that wished we were dead, we became each other's family. We huddled on an old mattress, planning a life far away from blood and guns, the springs creaking beneath us.

Then, his rival poisoned him.

Cold sweat seeped from his skin, and his kidneys began to fail.

I worked myself to the bone, but the price of black-market meds was a chasm I couldn't cross. The underground doctor told me he wouldn't survive long enough for a matching organ.

In desperation, I secretly got tested.

The results woke me up: I was a match.

The memory faded.

Falco's deep voice pulled me back to the hallway. He looked down at Gia, his eyes so tender it made my chest tight.

"My angel," he murmured. "The angel who saved me from the dark. I will make you the Queen of the Mafia."

It was too blinding to watch. I turned and ran toward the stairwell.

Before I could take a step, Gia lunged forward, her fingers hooking the back hem of my jacket.

I lost my balance, my knees giving way, bones slamming into the concrete floor with a dull thud.

The manila envelope stuffed inside my jacket spilled open. My medical files scattered everywhere. The pale pages documenting my deteriorating condition landed right at Falco's leather shoes.

Gia let out an exaggerated gasp, retreating behind him. "I just wanted to warn her to stay away from you!"

Falco’s shoulders stiffened. A primal instinct urged him to move, but he held back.

He stood motionless, looking down at me, his expression unreadable.

He slowly crouched down, picked up the papers, and furrowed his brow.

Gia leaned in, saw the words "Stage 5 Uremia," and let out a shrill laugh. "A pathetic, forged scam! Trying to blackmail the Don?"

The air in the hallway turned freezing cold.

Falco's mood grew dark and terrifying. He crumpled the papers and threw them right in my face.

The pages smacked against my cheek.

It hurt. Not my face, but my heart.

His voice was squeezed from the depths of his throat. "How dare you bring such a sloppy, fabricated scam to me?"

He pointed a finger at me, eyes burning with pure hatred. "Your cold, ruthless greed is exactly the same as when you sold me out four years ago."

"You abandoned me, left me to rot." His voice was flat and icy. "Lying in a hospital bed waiting to die, because I had no money to save myself. And now you’re back?"

He pointed at my huddled form. "This illness is just another one of your schemes. What do you want this time? Money?"

Every word felt like a heavy punch, squeezing the air from my lungs.

I slowly pushed myself up from the concrete floor. My joints ached, my vision spun. Legs weak, I bent down and picked up the crumpled papers.

I forced a hollow smile onto my stiff face, looking straight into his dark eyes.

"Oops, you caught me," I said, faking a breezy tone. "I'm exactly the mercenary you think I am. I don't care what you think of these files, but you still have to pay the extortion fee."

Gia stepped in front of Falco, squeezing out a few tears and wiping them away delicately.

"Falco, please," she whimpered, turning to him. "Pay off this traitor and end this. Have you forgotten how she left you to die?"

A deep chill settled over Falco’s face. He looked at me like I was garbage.

"Everything happening to you now," he said deadpan, "is exactly what you deserve. You have nothing to do with the Family."

He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away Gia's fake tears.

"Gia, you’re too kind," he murmured to comfort her. Then he shot me a look of disgust, dismissing me. "Walking corpse."

He took Gia’s hand and walked away, turning his back on me.

Gia threw a triumphant, malicious glance over her shoulder, her tears already gone.

I watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner.

As soon as they were gone, my facade crumbled.

My legs suddenly gave out, and I leaned heavily against the wall, sliding down to the floor. I gasped for air, but the mental suffocation left me defenseless.

My trembling hand pressed against my right side. The remaining kidney throbbed dully, suddenly flaring into a sharp, burning agony.

Memories flooded back.

The light fading from Falco’s eyes four years ago; my own whispered lies; the cold kiss of the scalpel in that shady clinic; the searing pain, like having a tooth ripped out.

I remembered waking up alone, knowing I had traded my future for his.

I sat alone on the floor, waiting for the pain to pass.

An ancient instinct dragged my numb body through the slums.

The sky was leaden gray, the air thick with the pungent smell of exhaust and garbage.

My feet brought me to a hidden little diner on our old turf.

Pushing open the heavy glass door, the rusty bell let out a hollow jingle. The place was empty, save for the stubble-faced owner wiping the counter.

He was an old, retired member of the Family.

He looked up, squinting. "Where’s your protector?"

I swallowed hard and made up a lame excuse, saying Falco was busy. Then I retreated to the dimmest corner, sliding into the worn-out booth we used to share.

The owner brought over a plate of our usual dish, setting it on the table. He winked knowingly, secretly slipping an extra piece of roasted meat onto my plate.

A burning sensation rushed to my eyes, tears stinging behind them.

I stared at the grease pooling on the cheap plate.

I remembered when we were hungry foot soldiers at the bottom of the food chain. This cheap meal was our only luxury. In a ruthless world, it was a brief, warm respite.

The darkest days after Falco was poisoned.

He was too weak to stand, and even this cheap meal became an impossible luxury. But it was our loyalty to each other that kept us sane in that drafty apartment.

I remembered watching helplessly as he slipped into empty acceptance. He stopped fighting the agonizing pain, simply holding my hand, waiting in silence.

Days turned to nights, and the underground network remained silent. No matching kidney donor could be found.

I knew his stubborn pride. He would rather die a thousand times than take my organ.

So, I had to make a choice—to utterly break his heart so he would never question my leaving.

The day I finalized the secret organ-harvesting deal with the underground doc, I brought him this meal. I spent my last few bills on it.

He managed only a small bite of meat. He pushed the plate toward me. "My queen, finish it."

Tears blurred my thoughts.

I remembered him trying to comfort me, whispering, "When I’m gone, you’ll be strong enough to live on."

That was when I dealt the final blow.

Fighting back my own anguish, I stared into his eyes with an icy glare. "I’m leaving. I can’t be tied down to a weak, dying man. I’ve been bought by a rival faction. Let me go."

The weight of that betrayal crushed the young soldier. I watched his spirit shatter into pieces.

Terrified I would fall to my knees, I turned and fled.

A few days later, the underground doctor began the final phase of the surgery.

Long before stepping into the clinic, I demanded Falco be placed in a separate operating room under deep anesthesia.

A thick concrete wall separated us, ensuring my secret would never reach his ears.

As soon as the surgery was over, I packed my blood-soaked bandages and vanished, leaving him alone until he woke up, knowing only that a "mysterious anonymous donor" had saved his life.

Snapping back to reality, I blinked away the ghosts.

I picked up my fork and forced a piece of cold meat into my mouth; it tasted like ash on my tongue.