Scars Of Love: The Boss's Misunderstood Ex

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."