After a vicious family power struggle, I fled to a small border town in the south. I took on a new identity and found work in a flower shop. Everyone believed I was dead.

Then one day, someone from the family came to the shop to order flowers for the birthday party for Roman Jackson, the head of the Jackson family.

The person who arrived was my former Underboss.

She stared at me in shock and demanded to know why I had not returned to the Jackson family if I was still alive. She told me that Roman had kept watch over my grave for two years and that he had attempted suicide three times in the cemetery, each time stopped by someone else.

Roman was my ex-husband.

He had an adopted sister, Liliana. Fifteen years ago, her parents were gunned down while covering Roman's father's escape from a rival family. After that, Liliana became Roman's most cherished sister.

She tampered with my armored car. The brakes failed, and the vehicle plunged off a cliff. I broke three ribs. Roman mobilized every resource the family had and pulled me back from the brink of death.

She bribed my bodyguard and laced my red wine with a neurotoxin. I lay unconscious in the villa for three days and nights. Roman sealed off the entire city, hunted down everyone involved, and made them pay in blood.

She tried to kill me, and he saved me.

This absurd cycle went on for three years.

Until the last time.

She detonated a bomb at an arms deal I was overseeing, burning seventy percent of my body. As I was lifted onto the ambulance stretcher, I clutched Roman's suit and, with the last of my strength, begged him.

"Kill her, Roman. She sabotaged the deal. Those are the family rules."

He crouched down, his fingers brushing my bloodstained face. His voice was calm, almost cruel.

"Liliana didn't mean to. Let it go. For the sake of what her parents sacrificed for the family."

In that moment, my heart to him died completely.

Two years had passed since I bolted from the chaos that was the Jackson family showdown. I made my escape to a sleepy town on the edge of the south, where I traded my past for a new name and a gig at a local flower shop.

To the world, I was another casualty of Hudson City's most notorious mafia feud, presumed dead in the Jackson family's brutal power struggle.

I had even convinced myself of that lie.

There was an empty grave with my name on it in the family plot, where I would occasionally drop off the freshest white roses, a silent tribute to the 'Eleanor' everyone thought was gone.

However, everything changed the day the flower shop door swung open.

A big-shot client waltzed in, requesting a floral arrangement for the Jackson family patriarch, Roman Jackson's, birthday bash. I kept my head down, lost in the blooms, until a voice, shaky and filled with disbelief, cut through the silence. "Mrs. Jackson?"

The rose I was holding jabbed me, a sharp reminder of reality.

I looked up to find myself staring into wide eyes with shock. It was Aria, the Jackson family's former Underboss.

She was ghostly pale, her gaze fixed on me as if I were a specter. "You...you're alive? Why haven't you come back if you're alive? Don't you know, Mr. Jackson..."

Her voice broke, heavy with emotion. "He's been by your grave for two years straight! He's tried to end it all in that graveyard...three times! If they hadn't found him in time, he'd be..."

Roman, the man she was talking about, was my once-husband.

It felt like an icy hand had grabbed my heart and squeezed it tight.

However, the pain was fleeting, quickly replaced by numbness.

She wanted me to go back? To what? To the Jacksons? To him?

Aria had no clue about the real reason I supposedly died.

My death was a carefully crafted illusion.

Roman had an adopted sister, Liliana. Fifteen years back, her parents took bullets meant for Roman's dad and never made it out. Since then, Liliana was everything to Roman: his world, his heart.

Ever since I said 'I do' to Roman, the adopted sister turned into a real-life villain, hell-bent on snuffing me out.

The first time, she messed with my armored car. The brakes gave out, and I took a nosedive off a cliff, ending up with a trio of cracked ribs and a lung that felt like it had been stabbed.

Roman pulled out all the stops, calling in every favor the Jacksons had to offer, throwing cash at top-notch doctors to yank me back from the Grim Reaper's grip.

The second time, she got to my bodyguard, who slipped some nerve-wracking poison into my wine. I was out cold in the mansion for a solid 72 hours, teetering on the edge of brain-dead.

Roman lost it. He shut down Hudson City tighter than a drum, hunted down everyone involved, and made sure they paid. It was a river of blood for his trouble.

Her attacks, his rescues: it was like some twisted merry-go-round.

Every time I thought he would stand up for me, he would shield her at the eleventh hour, giving me that steady gaze and saying, "Eleanor, Liliana's just a kid. She doesn't get it. Cut her some slack, for her parents who laid down their lives for the Jacksons."

Once, twice, a dozen times...

Until the final straw, when Liliana blew up the arms deal I was running.

Kaboom!

The explosion sent me flying, my skin crisping up like burnt toast, with burns over most of my body.

Barely alive, strapped into an ambulance, I clung to Roman's bloody suit sleeve, pleading with every ounce of strength left.

"Take her out... Roman... She botched the deal... The family code says...she's got to go..."

He crouched beside me, his touch light on my wrecked face, but his voice was frosty as he said, "Eleanor, Liliana didn't mean it.

"Can't you just forgive her, for her parents who died for the Jacksons?"

'Forgive her. Always forgive her.' That was what echoed in my head.

In that moment, staring into the eyes of the man I had loved, shielded, and been let down by for three long years, any last bit of warmth in my heart fizzled out, leaving me stone-cold.

When I came to the hospital the next day, I was bandaged head to toe. I felt like a mummy. Every bone in my body screamed in agony.

I kept my tears at bay and did not cause a scene.

The first thing I did was grab the cellphone from the nightstand and call Roman's mom, Nathasha Hawkins.

She was the mother-in-law who never thought I measured up to her son.

I rasped, my throat raw from smoke, "Mrs. Hawkins, I'm ready for the divorce."

The line was dead silent for a few heartbeats before her icy voice answered, "You've thought it through? No second thoughts this time. I'll have the agreement sent to you. Just sign it."

In no time, Luther, the Jackson family's Consigliere, showed up with the divorce papers, all politeness and respect.

My hands trembled so much I could hardly grip the pen.

The room swam before my eyes, not from tears, but from the cold sweat of pain.

Three years of memories spun in my head like a whirlwind.

Roman, taking bullets for me, smoothing over family disputes...

Yet, those memories always stopped at his face when he excused Liliana, that mix of helplessness and leniency.

The first time we met, Liliana's bad intel led to a bullet in my chest and our cargo stolen. I was furious, demanding Roman make it right, but he just stroked my hair and said, "Eleanor, it was just a mix-up with the map. Liliana didn't mean any harm. I've already grounded her."

He always downplayed every betrayal.

Luther said, taking the signed papers with a sigh of relief, "Ms. Bell, I'll get the divorce papers to you once they're ready."

After he left, the room fell into a deep silence, broken only by the steady ticking of the machines.

The silence was shattered in an instant.

Crash!

The door flew open with a violent kick.

Liliana strode in, a thick rope clutched in her hand, her face twisted into a sickly sweet, venomous grin. She crept closer to my hospital bed with each step.

Chills raced up my spine, and my burned skin screamed in agony as it stretched and tore.

"What...what do you want?" I stammered, my voice shaking.

"What do I want?" She cocked her head, her laugh chillingly innocent. "Since the bomb didn't finish you off, I'm here to do the job."

Her words barely hung in the air before she lunged, the rope biting into my neck as she pulled tight!

"Urgh!" I fought with everything I had, but my body was battered and broken, too weak to even raise my arms, let alone fight back against her, a seasoned fighter from childhood.

My lungs gasped for air as darkness crept into my vision, and a buzzing sound filled my ears.

'I'm going to die... She's really going to kill me...' the thought raced through my mind.

As my consciousness slipped away, a loud bang echoed as the door burst open, and the on-duty doctor charged in. "Stop! What are you doing?!"

In the ensuing chaos, I summoned every last ounce of strength to clutch at the doctor's white coat, gasping out, "Call...the police... Hurry..."

Then darkness took me, and I knew no more.

When my eyes fluttered open again, I was met with a face clouded with stormy darkness.

Roman.

He stood at the foot of my bed, his suit crumpled as if he had rushed over.

However, his eyes, usually so steady and calm, were then swirling with something unreadable. Fury? Frustration?

He spoke, his voice icy and sharp, "Eleanor, why did you tell the doctor to call the cops?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was on fire, and no words came out.

He moved closer, and his shadow fell over me. "Liliana's been arrested!"

My heart felt like it had been pierced by a rusted knife, a sharp pain shooting through me.

I looked at him, hardly able to believe my ears.

"She's out to get me..." I managed to choke out, each word heavy with the pain I felt.

Roman's expression was all worry and clear favoritism as he said, "I've told you. Liliana lost her parents because of the Jackson family. Sure, she's bitter and can be a bit over the top, but she doesn't actually want to kill you! She's just...just acting out!"

"She doesn't want to kill me?!" I cut him off, my voice rising with the pent-up hurt and anger of three long years. "She messed with my brakes, and I ended up with three broken ribs!

"She poisoned me, and I was out cold for three days! She blew up the deal site. Look at the burns it left me with! And just now, she tried to strangle me with a rope! If the doctor hadn't come in when he did, you'd be looking at a dead body right now!"

I was shouting so hard that my wounds started to bleed again, the bandages staining red as tears and sweat ran down my face.

Roman watched me fall apart, silent for a few heartbeats before he sighed and reached out to dry my tears.

I jerked away as if his touch was poison, snapping, "Don't touch me! I'm not backing down, not this time! She's going to pay for this. She's going to jail!"

Roman's face turned to stone.

He stared at me, any last trace of warmth in his eyes then gone.

"I've known Liliana my whole life," he said, each word deliberate and final.

"And yeah, maybe I've let her get away with too much. I'll ground her for three months, freeze her accounts, strip her of her privileges, and even pull her out of the family business."

Then, with iron in his voice, he said, "However, I won't let her go to jail and ruin her life. She's the last of the Jackson family Underboss' line."

He gave a subtle nod to someone nearby.

The Underboss, who had been lurking in the shadows, stepped forward and handed me a piece of paper.

I glanced down to see three bold words at the top: a forgiveness letter.

"Sign it," Roman said flatly, as if he were discussing the weather and not our fate. "Then we can pretend this never happened. When you're back on your feet, we'll still be Hudson City's golden couple."

I stared at the document, then at Roman, who felt both familiar and strangely alien, and a metallic taste rose in my throat.

That was insane!

"I won't sign it!" I slammed the papers onto the floor.

Roman stooped to retrieve them, brushing off the dust. His voice softened, almost pleading, as he said, "Liliana's never known hardship. She wouldn't survive a day in jail. Come on, Eleanor. Just do as you're told."

I turned away, shutting my eyes, letting my silence speak volumes.

Then, in a flash, the Underboss seized my bandaged wrist with an iron grip and twisted it.

A scream tore from me, raw and sharp.

The barely healed burns split open anew, blood soaking the bandages and my hospital gown.

He forced the pen into my hand, and I scrawled my name onto the paper, each letter a cut deeper into my soul.

Roman watched, a silent sentinel, sanctioning the cruelty.

Sweat and blood blurred my vision, but I forced myself to look up at the man I had loved for three years, my voice a raspy whisper as I said, "Roman, this is how you'd treat her? You'd do this to me...for Liliana?"

He did not even glance my way.

With the letter in hand, he seemed to relax. Without a backward look, he walked out, leaving an icy order behind. "Get the doctor. Use the best meds. Make sure she heals without scars."