"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.

I unlocked the door to my hidden apartment, the encrypted laptop chiming crisply, echoing in the silence.

I glanced at the glowing screen.

A high-priority email had bypassed all my firewalls.

I clicked it open, and my stomach knotted at the familiar Syndicate crest on the header.

A formal legal threat, issued by Falco's advisory department.

The bold text demanded immediate repayment of a loan. The document claimed I had stolen the money in Falco's name four years ago to fund my escape.

I stared at the black words, a bitter laugh tearing from my throat.

The Don was so disgusted by my existence that he was mobilizing his entire empire to grind me into dust. Long before my illness, he wanted to crush me legally and financially.

Moving like a robot, I went to the keyboard and entered the authorization info. I attached my encrypted digital signature to the bottom of the claim, accepting the blood debt.

I promised to repay it, down to the last cent.

My body had already been pronounced dead. Before I went into the ground, returning his money was the only way to sever the final tie between us.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a secure line to contact my good friend Lexi. She was an associate on the fringes of the Family business, running a high-end bridal boutique downtown.

Of course, beneath the veil of tulle and lace, it was a front to launder Syndicate money.

Lexi picked up on the first ring.

"Can I come work at your boutique?" I cut straight to the chase. "The black-market surgery ruined my stamina; I can't do heavy lifting. I need somewhere quiet."

Lexi immediately offered me the front desk job. "Safe, high-paying, cover job. We'll funnel cash straight to you."

I accepted without hesitation.

I refused to owe the Don a favor for even a second longer.

I swore that in the final moments of my life, I would vanish from Falco's world entirely.

I would pay him back, and then quietly disappear into an empty corner.