I died five years ago. Now my husband, the Don of our Mafia family, wants me to take the fall for his sister again—this time for accidentally killing a British noble's heir during an arms deal.

He's holding a fake confession letter with my forged signature, storming into my old apartment in the rust district, only to find it empty.

Frustrated, he grabs the corner store owner downstairs, demanding to know where I am.

The owner pauses, wiping his hands on his apron, calmly tells him:

"Serafine? She died five years ago."

"Heard it was retaliation from a rival family during the gang war. They ambushed her in an alley... shot her over a dozen times. She died immediately."

My husband, Lucien, refuses to believe it. Convinced the owner is on my payroll, hiding me to help me escape his reach.

He scoffs, his eyes filled with scorn:

"Oh, so what? Because I called her out for messing up that last job, now she's throwing a tantrum?"

"You tell her, if she doesn't come back and take the fall in three days, I'll revoke her grandmother's 'special family protection'! Let the old woman rot!"

With that, he storms out, his rage still simmering.

The owner watches him leave and sighs, shaking his head. "There's no grandmother left to protect... That woman passed away not long after Serafine did... couldn't survive the winter without our family's medical supplies and protection..."

I died five years ago. Now my husband, the Don of our Mafia family, wants me to take the fall for his sister again—this time for accidentally killing a British noble's heir during an arms deal.

It was exactly because I took the fall for Kate on Lucien’s orders that I left the family five years ago—and that incident completely broke my heart.

Now, he’s come to me again—and it’s still to make me take the fall.

My ghostly form floats in the air as Lucien bursts into the apartment, clutching the ridiculous confession letter.

What touching "sibling love," all at my expense.

"Playing dead? An outcast like you, where could you possibly hide?"

"Kate just got word—international investigators are already on the case! You're the Madre! You should be standing up for family members!"

"I'm counting to ten. You'd better show yourself!"

I look at his impatient face. Five years later, and he's still as entitled as ever.

Too bad for him. I'll never again appear at his beck and call like I used to.

Because I'm already dead.

"Serafine! Are you listening? Kate said it was an accident! Even if you take the blame, there's no real danger! What's wrong with helping me... helping Kate just this once?!"

He suddenly erupts, kicking the bedroom door with a heavy thud.

Inside, there's still no one.

Lucien curses under his breath, searches frantically one more time, and finally accepts that I'm not here.

He slams the apartment door shut on his way out.

The corner store door flies open as Lucien grabs the owner who's restocking the shelves: "You see Serafine? The woman who used to live on the third floor."

The owner pauses, sets down the goods: "Serafine? She died five years ago."

I see Lucien's hand freeze for a second, then he sneers: "Don't lie to me. Trash like her wouldn't die that easily."

"Not lying," the owner points toward a dark alley outside. "Five years ago, rival family found her... ambushed her in that alley... shot her more than a dozen times. They found her already gone. Sir, were you... her...?"

The natural ness of his response surprised Lucien.

Obviously, he did not anticipate my death. His brow furrows, and I think I see... pain?

But then his phone buzzes—it's a message from Kate:

"Never mind, Lucien. Serafine's still mad at me... she won't help me. I'll take responsibility for everything. Without me by your side, you have to take care of yourself."

Just those words confirm to Lucien that my "death" is just my way of refusing to help him.

"Stop playing games! She's hiding somewhere. Tell me—how much did she pay you?"

The owner sighs: "Sir, you can't just accuse people like that... it was in the news..."

"You believe everything you read in the news?" Lucien's voice rises.

As the Don of the most powerful crime family in the western territories, Lucien believes buying off the press is child's play.

He steps closer, his eyes threatening: "I'm saying this one last time. Tell her! Three days! Only three days! If she doesn't show up, I'll cut off all medical support and protection for her grandmother! Let the old woman die waiting for treatment!"

The owner opens his mouth to explain, but Lucien cuts him off with a wave.

"Shut up! Do as I say! Either she shows up, or... start preparing that old woman's funeral!"

With that, Lucien turns and strides out. The door slams behind him.

The owner watches him disappear around the corner, shakes his head, and sighs to the empty counter:

"There is no grandmother... the woman passed away soon after Serafine did... without our medicine and protection. The whole family is gone..."

I float nearby, staring at the dust on the shelves. My soul feels covered in that same cold, suffocating ash.

Lucien did arrange for the family to give my grandmother and me some money for daily supplies and medical drugs, but Kate—his sister—cut that off five years ago.

While my elderly, sick grandmother—my only living relative—was coughing up blood in a cold room, desperately waiting for medical supplies, Kate was using that money to buy herself luxury goods.

When I was stabbed to death in a dark alley, with Kate's assassins making it look like a revenge killing, Lucien was attending a quarterly meeting of the family's elders with her by his side, basking in the spotlight.

After my death, Kate even prevented well-meaning people from helping, refusing to provide even basic supplies for the elderly woman.

And the mastermind behind it all—Kate, that seemingly innocent stepsister—has been planning this for five years.

She sent her men to kill me, framing it as a revenge killing from rivals. She orchestrated the cutting of all support for my grandmother, leaving her to die in despair.

Now she's whispering in Lucien's ear, twisting facts, turning him against me, making him believe I'm cruel and selfish, hiding while they face trouble, even "abandoning" my own grandmother.

She didn't just take my life. She indirectly killed the only person I had left. She drained every last bit of value from me.

And now, she's building herself as the innocent victim and painting me as the villain, making the man I once loved hate me more with every passing day.

My spirit followed Lucien back to the familiar estate.

That house had once been my home with Lucien. Every plant, every piece of furniture, every decoration had been chosen by me with care.

Now, Kate lived there.

The moment he pushed the door open, Kate rushed to meet him, her face filled with anxious hope.

"Lucien? Well? Did you find Serafine?"

Lucien shook his head, looking dazed.

"No… and they told me… they told me Serafine is dead."

"Dead?!"

Kate's eyes widened. She stumbled back a step, her hand instinctively gripping Lucien's arm.

"No way… That can't be right. Is she… is she just hiding from us? Making up lies to fool you?"

Lucien frowned, not answering right away.

Seeing this, Kate quickly forced a bitter smile.

"Serafine was our Madre! She had her own crew and access to family funds. How could she just die like that, for no reason?"

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, clutching his sleeve.

"Lucien, maybe… maybe we should just let it go? Don't pressure her anymore. I'll… I'll turn myself in to the Commission…"

Lucien was silent for a moment before finally nodding, as if he'd convinced himself.

"You're right. She must be hiding."

"I'll turn this city upside down if I have to. I will find her, and she will take the fall for you, Kate."

Tears welled in Kate's eyes, her voice choked. "Lucien, you're too good to me…"

"But…"

Lucien stared at Kate with a solemn look, his tone heavy. "But this is the last time. Once you’re out of danger, I’ll send you away." He paused, a flicker of regret crossing his face. "Before you showed up, Serafine and I never had these kinds of problems. She must be really disappointed in me now."

I floated nearby, stunned into silence. I was already dead, but I couldn't believe my ears.

Lucien was actually suggesting he end things with Kate?

What a joke. I could still remember when we'd been married less than a year, his "sister"—not by blood—had started insinuating herself into every crack of our lives.

It was Lucien himself who brought her into the family's inner circle, calling it "needing someone we can trust," which conveniently gave her free rein to be near him whenever she pleased.

How could I forget our first wedding anniversary? I had planned it for weeks—candles, a perfect dinner, just the two of us. But of course, that night, Kate had a "sudden emergency."

A phone call pulled Lucien away from my table. When he got there, he found she'd just had a bit of a headache from drinking too much.

I waited in the empty restaurant until the small hours of the morning. All I got from him was a text: "Kate needs me. You understand, she's family." When I later expressed my hurt, he frowned and called me "cold-hearted," asking if I was "really going to be jealous of a sick person."

And then there was the night before the crucial negotiation for the West Side territory. Kate "let it slip" to Lucien that I was "rather displeased" with the proposed outcome and had even "privately complained that he was making reckless decisions."

It was a complete lie. But Lucien believed it. We had a massive fight in the study. He accused me of questioning his authority, of being unworthy to stand by his side as the family's Madre.

The next day at the negotiation table, the icy atmosphere between us was so obvious our adversaries noticed it, ultimately causing a loss for the family. And Kate, of course, was there to provide "comfort" and "unconditional support."

It was always like this. Over and over.

In front of Lucien, she was always fragile, reasonable, and completely devoted to him.

In front of me, the provocative tone in her words and the smugness in her eyes were for me alone.

She successfully made Lucien believe I was petty and constantly targeting his "poor little sister." Any defense I tried made me seem even more "jealous" and "small-minded."

And now, he was saying he wanted to end this twisted relationship?

Lucien didn't notice the mask slipping from Kate's face. He turned away, his voice lower.

"I have to make things right with my family. I gave her protection back then, but these past few years… I've neglected my duties to her."

"If I'm honest… I feel guilty about it."

Kate stared at him in disbelief, her voice trembling.

"Lucien… are you throwing me away?"

"I don't know." Lucien's gaze shifted, brow furrowed. "But ever since that mess with the container in the Rust District?five years ago, I've had this bad feeling in my gut. Like something is deeply, fundamentally wrong."

He paused, then his voice turned hard again.

"But I will help you with this. I won't let you face the Commission alone. I'm going to find her now. You wait here."

With that, he turned and walked away, his back rigid with a stubborn determination.

Kate stood frozen in place.

When she looked up again, gazing in the direction Lucien had gone, the pitiful, helpless expression on her face vanished without a trace.

I saw it clearly: her eyes were like poisoned daggers, venomous and hateful.

And from between her teeth came my name, a venomous hiss.

“Serafine… Lucien's love and the position of Madre - all of these are mine? You will never be able to take it away.”

Desperate to find me, the first place Lucien thought of was one of the family's safe houses—a place used to hide the relatives of important members.

It was where they had once placed my grandmother.

I watched Lucien slam his foot on the gas, his brow furrowed in a tight knot since he got in the car.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the family's safehouse— a building disguised as a rundown warehouse, with tight security hidden inside.

Lucien practically threw the door open before the car had even stopped. He stormed inside and grabbed a young Soldato who was counting weapons in the front lobby.

"Pull up the protection records for Serafine's grandmother."

"…Yes, Don."

The young soldier paused, then started flipping through the thick paper files. Just then, a low, cold chuckle came from nearby.

"Well, well... look who graces us with his presence. Don Lucien, making a personal visit to our little outpost?"

Lucien spun around, his face instantly darkening.

It was Damine. He had once been the family's Consigliere, with many loyal followers and Lucien's most trusted right-hand man.

Strangely, shortly after my "accidental death," Damine was demoted to Caporegime, only put in charge of the family's back-end operations.

The word on the street was that he often spoke up for me, which displeased Kate. Then Kate framed him for embezzling family funds, causing Lucien to lose all trust in him.

The moment these enemies saw each other, the tension became razor-sharp. Lucien looked him up and down, snapping:

"Do I need to report my whereabouts to you now?"

Damine leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a sneering smirk on his lips.

"Of course not. Just curious... how can you be so cold-blooded?"

"You disappear when they needed protection the most, but now that she's gone, you finally decide to look for her?"

"Protection?" Lucien's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Lucien looked completely bewildered, as if he truly knew nothing. But I knew exactly what Damine was referring to—my grandmother and me.

Back when I was shot over a dozen times in that dark alley, my consciousness fading, I had desperately tried to contact Lucien, wanting to see him one last time.

But he was out shopping with Kate and simply hung up on me. When I tried calling again, the number was completely blocked.

The same with my grandmother. When her medical feewere withheld and she lost the family's shield, with no funds or caregivers, a well-meaning contact had tried reaching Lucien for her.

He was on a private island vacation with Kate, completely cut off from the world. As a result, when she passed, she was completely alone, not a single soul by her side. They only found her body after she had already started to decay.

Seeing Lucien's confused expression, Damine stared at him for a few seconds, then let out a bitter laugh.

"You're a great actor. Forget it. I really don't see what she saw in you, what made her give up everything for you."

Damine said no more and walked away, leaving those words hanging in the air. Lucien stood rooted to the spot, his fingers unconsciously tightening on the cuff of his suit jacket—a telltale sign of his inner turmoil.

But... why was he so shaken up?

"Don?"

The soldier's voice pulled him back to reality. "The woman you're looking for… her grandmother..."

The soldier hesitated before continuing.

"She passed away three years ago."

Lucien's pupils constricted, as if he'd been nailed to the floor.

"What? The grandmother's dead? Three years ago?"

The soldier nodded timidly. "The records show winter, three years ago. Died of... terminal lung cancer with complications."

"Impossible! That's impossible!"

Lucien's control shattered. He smashed his fist onto a steel table with a deafening crash that drew the attention of every other member in the safehouse.

But he quickly forced himself to calm down. As the Don, he knew these protection records couldn't be wrong, nor could they be easily altered.

He clutched the soldier's collar, his voice trembling.

"How could this happen? We provided the best protection for her! How could she just... die! And..."

He suddenly remembered something, his face turning even paler.

"And I've been paying the medical fee every month! Kate told me just last week that the grandmother was doing well, that her vitals were improving..."

The soldier gasped for breath under his grip but quickly pulled up the ledger.

"Sir... and according to family records, the old woman's condition was never good. It never improved. And her medical fee wasn’t paid on time."

"The brother in charge said a woman came by a few times, claiming to 'cut costs,' and... she swapped out the doctor-prescribed imported meds. Most of the time, the patient was on cheaper substitutes."

"Later... she cut off all funding for the old woman's protection... After she stopped treatment and moved back to the Rust District... she passed away not long after..."

But the wire transfers for the family funds couldn't be faked. Kate had embezzled that money to fund her own lavish lifestyle.

Every word from the soldier felt like a knife through my heart. That damn bitch, Kate! She knew that money was her grandmother's lifeline, and she dared to steal it!

As Lucien listened, his whole body began to tremble. Of course, he knew who was responsible—besides Kate, no one would dare touch funds he had personally approved.

I thought he must be remembering five years ago, when I took the fall for Kate. I remembered the promise he made to me then—that he would use all the family's resources to protect my grandmother. He had sworn with such conviction, and in the end...

Lucien sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook violently.

"How could Kate... She promised me she'd take care of her!"

"How could she do this..."

Serval years ago, Lucien had just been a small-time hustler on the streets when my grandmother would secretly take money she'd saved for her own medicine and slip it into his pocket.

"You're doing big things now. You can't go on an empty stomach," she would always say. Her weathered, calloused hands would gently stroke his back, offering encouragement.

In the winter, she would stay up late knitting him sweaters. When he was injured, our shanty in the Rust District became his safest haven.

Even after he became the Don and owned countless mansions, he still most fondly remembered the scent of baking bread from that small kitchen.

But everything changed after Kate came along. She always said that my grandmother was "old-fashioned" and "out of place at family functions."

Slowly, the number of times he visited my grandmother dwindled to almost nothing.

At their last meeting, my grandmother had just gently held his hand and said, "My child, don't lose yourself in all this power."

Back then, he'd just seen it as an old woman's nagging. Now, he finally understood the weight of her words.

Lucien did love my grandmother. For the first time in five years, I finally saw the agonizing pain of his regret on his face.

But it was all too late.