Scars Of Love: The Boss's Misunderstood Ex

These are the last thirty days of my life.

Four years ago, I secretly donated my kidney to save Falco, the mafia soldier I loved deeply.

To ensure he accepted the surgery, I lied and said I betrayed him for money, selling myself to a rival family.

Now, he is the ruthless mob boss of this city, and he has finally found me.

He thinks my terminal illness is just another trick.

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

I bore his humiliation, quietly bought my own grave, and waited to pass away in peace.

But when the underground doctor uploaded my surgical records to the mafia network, Falco completely broke down.

Chapter 1

My bodily functions might last another thirty days. The doctor expressed his regrets.

The phone in my pocket buzzed.

I stared at the familiar number on the screen. For four years, it had been etched into my mind, lingering like a brand.

Falco.

Today, that name made the whole city tremble.

He was no longer the poor kid who fought for me on the streets and stuffed his last piece of bread into my hands when he was starving. He had crushed the bones of rival families and turned their names into whispers in the alleys.

The Mafia Godfather, Falco.

I answered the phone, my throat feeling like it had been scraped by sandpaper.

His voice came through the receiver, cold as winter train tracks. "Any regrets? Selling me to a rival family for a few filthy bucks-was it worth it?"

I gave a dry laugh, my throat tightening. "Lend me fifty grand."

There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by a sneer.

It wasn't a laugh; it was something sharper. Then, the dial tone.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. Bank notification: Four dollars received.

Accompanied by a message: One dollar a year. Four years. The debt is paid.

I stared at the screen, a heavy weight pressing on my chest. I hit refund.

A red banner popped up: Account frozen.

His hackers had locked my account.

I shoved the phone into my pocket and pulled up a paper mask to cover half my face. I needed to leave this clinic; the air here was suffocating.

Turning the corner, I walked toward the private elevator.

I froze.

Falco was standing there. It wasn't a hallucination.

Wearing a charcoal-gray suit, his imposing figure blocked the hallway.

Standing next to him was Gia-the daughter of the mafia's underboss, and perhaps soon to be his bride.

I lowered my head, staring at the polished floor, trying to make myself smaller, hoping to slip away along the edges.

A hand shot out from a gray sleeve, grabbing my upper arm. His fingers tightened like an iron vice.

He yanked me hard, and my shoulder joint let out a sharp crack.

Falco looked down at me.

Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and raspy. "Stalking me? Back to spy for the rivals?"

I looked up at his hard, cold face, silently swallowing the metallic taste of blood in my throat, and put on the mask of a greedy traitor.

"Four years of my youth," I said, "and it's only worth four dollars?"

He sneered, his upper lip curling slowly to reveal deep disgust. "Parasite. Crawling back to extort my family?"

I tried to keep my voice steady. "Fifty grand. I'll sign a blood oath, and once the money hits my account, I'll disappear."

Four years ago, I hid the truth. Now, I just needed to keep playing the role of a gold digger.

A darker flash of anger crossed his eyes. But Gia beat him to it, wrapping her arms around his waist, claiming her territory.

"The pathetic ex," she said. "Back to beg for scraps?"

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.