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.

I stood behind the counter at Lexi’s bridal boutique, organizing the inventory list.

The glass doors of the shop swung open.

Falco walked in.

Dressed in a flawless bespoke dark suit, he radiated a calm, lethal authority. He was the Godfather of this city, every step exuding predatory calculation.

Gia clung tightly to his arm, wearing an immaculate designer dress, playing the innocent contrast to his dark presence.

Falco frowned, looking around.

"The selection here is too small," he murmured to Gia. "I’ll have the private jet take you to Paris this afternoon. You deserve the best."

Gia played the role of the sweet, perfect mob bride.

She rested her head on his shoulder, insisting on supporting local artisans. But as she spoke, her eyes swept the room and landed on me.

A vicious smirk flickered across her face.

Falco indulgently agreed. He pulled out a black card, telling the manager he was buying the entire store for his future wife.

I retreated into the shadows behind a silk display, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wanted to disappear.

But Gia marched straight to the front desk, slamming her designer bag onto the marble counter.

"That girl hiding in the corner," she demanded loudly. "Have her serve us personally."

The boutique manager, pale with panic, rushed over to intervene. "She’s only hired for administrative work," she explained nervously.

Gia narrowed her eyes, putting on her boss’s-daughter attitude. "Step aside. Or I’ll break your fingers."

I had no choice but to step out from behind the display.

My eyes met Falco’s.

I saw a flash of pain in his deep eyes—or maybe I imagined it—before it instantly turned distant and icy.

He stepped forward, looking me up and down, a mocking smile on his lips. He laughed out loud in front of the staff. "The scammer reappears. It’s a miracle, isn't it?"

His tone was dripping with sarcasm. "How does a woman supposedly on her deathbed suddenly have the energy to hustle in a high-end boutique?"

He sneered. "Here to hook a rich sponsor to fund your next con?"

Gia laughed.

She picked up a steaming hot espresso from the hospitality counter and took a step toward me. Her thumb rubbed the edge of the paper cup, bending the thin rim slightly.

Suddenly, she let out an exaggerated gasp. She shoved the cup forward.

The boiling black coffee splashed across my chest.

The heat felt alive, burning through my thin uniform shirt, raising blisters the second it hit my skin.

Gia feigned surprise, covering her mouth with her hand.

She pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from her bag and tossed them onto the floor at my feet.

"To cover your ruined shirt," she said.

Then, she casually poured the rest of the hot coffee over my head.

The scalding dark liquid dripped down my cheeks, stinging my eyes, soaking my hair.

I stood frozen, numb.

Falco was completely indifferent to her cruelty.

He pulled Gia close, wrapping an arm around her waist in a protective embrace.

He stared dead at me.

"The sight of you makes me sick," he told me.

He looked down at the pile of cash on the floor. With the absolute authority of a Godfather, he issued his final order:

"You can keep the money. If you bow to Gia a hundred times as an apology."

I wiped the dripping coffee from my eyelashes and looked straight at the head of the Syndicate.

"Will that erase everything?" my voice was raspy.

Falco froze.

He was stunned by my rapid submission, but the shock was fleeting.

A deep, intense rage flared in his chest. He closed the distance, his face inches from mine.

"Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth.

I took a slow breath and turned to face the mafia princess.

I bent down, offering Gia a deep bow.

"I am sorry, Miss Gia," I muttered hollowly to the floor.

I straightened up, then immediately bowed again.

"I am sorry, Miss Gia."

Gia beamed, basking in the glory of her victory.

At the entrance, the Syndicate soldiers guarding the door pulled out their phones.

All around us, boutique staff and bystanders were secretly recording—the Don’s former lover, publicly humiliated.

With every bow, the temperature in the room seemed to drop another degree.

Falco stood rigid, his face a mask of pure fury.

He was the one who demanded the humiliation, I was delivering it, yet he was the one getting angry. I couldn't understand it.

As I bent down for the twentieth time, Falco grabbed my shoulder. His hand stopped my movement, shaking me so hard his grip almost drew blood.

"Do you have no pride left?!" he roared. "For a few hundred dollars? Are you really that desperate?!"

I reached up, pushed his hand away, and forced my trembling legs to steady themselves.

I didn't answer Falco; I simply bent down and bowed to Gia once more.

Falco lunged in front of me, using his massive frame to block my path. He completely lost it. He shouted my name so loud the glass display cases rattled.

"Stop!" he commanded. "If you bend down one more time, you get nothing!"

I stood straight, meeting his furious eyes. A cold smile touched my lips.

"Isn't this the revenge you wanted?" I said softly. "Why can't the boss stomach his own vengeance?"

The color drained from Falco’s face, turning him ashen.

I turned away, attempting to bow again.

But before I could finish the motion, a wave of dizziness hit me.

My body finally gave out.

I collapsed, my knees crashing heavily onto the marble floor, my vision blurring. The tiles and the hundred-dollar bills swayed before me as the edges of the world faded to black.

Suddenly, the heavy boutique doors were shoved open.

Lexi shoved through the crowd and froze when she saw me collapsed on the floor, covered in coffee.

Fierce loyalty overpowered her fear.

With a trembling finger pointing right at Falco’s chest, she screamed:

"She gave you her kidney!"

Her voice echoed, tears streaming down her face.

"She is dying because of you! And you’re torturing her!"