Michele Giuliani successfully takes the throne as the leader of the mafia forces in Costa Morala.

During an interview, a reporter asks, "According to our observations, you've never concealed or removed the old alphabetic tattoo below your collarbone. Does that mean it has a special meaning to you?"

Michele shakes his head with a sneer.

"Five years ago, my fiancee, Alma Rossito, looked down on me because the Giulianis had lost their power and authority among the families. So, she ran off to be with another rich man.

"Whenever I wanted to give up, I'd be reminded of her betrayal as soon as I laid my eyes on this tattoo.

"Now that I've lasted this long, I just want to personally ask her a question."

Michele digs out his phone and dials the number he has pinned at the top of his contact list without hesitation.

"Alma, do you regret dumping my ass the moment I was kicked out of my family?"

I turn the camera toward the chaotic underground casino and reply lazily, "Yeah, I regret doing that to you, Don Giuliani. But I've lost every cent under my name on horse-betting. Can you transfer 50 thousand dollars to me first so that I can earn my money back?"

Michele ends the call instantly before punching the mirror next to him. The cracks in the mirror happen to reflect the dark tattoo beneath his collar.

What Michele doesn't know is that I'm being held in the casino by loan sharks.

Five years ago, I had taken out a huge loan from them and bribed the necessary connections as an anonymous party. That was how Michele got the opportunity to turn the tides in his favor and become the mafia king.

Seeing that I still hadn't paid after five years, one of the debt collectors pressed a gun to my temple.

The next second, my phone rang. The notification sounded painfully clear.

50 thousand dollars had been deposited into my account.

I froze.

I transferred the money to the collectors, and only then did they curse under their breath and back off.

I finally let out a breath. Just as I was about to leave, I saw Michele Giuliani walking into the casino with his men.

Five years had passed. The air around him had grown even more dangerous and oppressive.

His shirt collar was slightly open. The familiar tattoo was still there, but a vicious new scar cut across it.

As soon as the interview was over, he brought his "clean" little girlfriend, Barbara Granato, here to see the world he ruled.

Seeing how close he and Barbara were, I lowered the brim of my hat and tried to melt into the crowd.

But Michele suddenly grabbed my wrist. His eyes were cold.

"Why are you running?" he asked coldly, tugging his collar aside to fully expose the tattoo. "Aren't you going to look at the mark you left back then?"

I forced a smile. "My time is expensive. If you want my attention, trade it for your villa in Abraria. You're the Don now. Was that 50 thousand dollars supposed to tip a beggar? I want the villa, and I want the new shipment you just brought into the docks."

He looked at me in silence.

"After five years, is money all you see now?" he asked, tightening his grip.

The cut on my wrist, left by the collectors' knife earlier, started bleeding again.

I sucked in a sharp breath and shook him off.

"What exactly do you want to talk about, Don Giuliani?" I snapped. "How I just got beaten up by debt collectors? Or how I've been crawling through the mud all these years?"

Michele fell silent, an unreadable glint flickering in his eyes. Then, he released my wrist.

Just as he was about to speak, Barbara pressed herself against him. She eyed me with disdain, deliberately brushing her fingers over the tattoo under Michele's collarbone.

"An old tattoo doesn't mean a thing. Yesterday, I was in a bad mood, so Michele gave me the entire year's protection money from the next district just to cheer me up.

"If you hadn't betrayed him, you'd be standing here beside him now. You wouldn't have ended up a gambling addict and liar, but there are no what-ifs. Ms. Rossitto, thanks for your betrayal—on Michele's behalf."

My thoughts drifted back to the past.

Back then, I was still a law school student, working part-time at the Giuliani family's legal advisory office.

Michele, the son of the family, was bold and unstoppable

At the celebration banquet where he officially took over part of the business, he confessed his feelings to me.

We were together for five years.

He went so far as to defy the family elders, and only then did the late Don, Maffeo Giuliani, begrudgingly allow me to stay.

Just as Michele was on the verge of taking power, a carefully orchestrated betrayal from within almost destroyed the Giuliani family.

Maffeo died at the hands of his power-hungry brother, Rolfo Giuliani. Meanwhile, Michele was driven out and left with nothing.

The once-golden heir to the Don's throne fell into the abyss overnight. He hid away in a rented apartment every day, numbing himself with alcohol.

To help him rise again, I worked several jobs at once and stayed up late studying loopholes in every gray area I could find, hoping to gather enough money for him to recruit men again and rebuild his connections.

When I finally dragged my exhausted body home and set the money I had saved before him, he just gave a bitter smile, shoved it aside, and kept drinking his whiskey.

I gave everything I had, but what I earned was nothing more than a drop in the ocean.

When I was about to give up, a loan shark approached me and promised a sum big enough to help Michele start over.

I signed the contract without hesitation, knowing that default would cost me my life and my body.

Michele's voice pulled me back to reality.

"If she hadn't left all those years ago, the woman at my side would be a gambler. How could it be an angel like you? Tomorrow is our 99th day together, and I'm putting the most profitable strip club in Vallasia under your name."

Michele looked at Barbara with complete indulgence and pinched her cheek playfully.

Barbara laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him.

A sudden, stabbing pain tore through my side, forcing a sharp gasp from me. It was the scar I had carried for five years, left behind when I sold a kidney just to stay alive after I failed to repay my loan.

I looked away from their intimacy and turned to leave.

Barbara stopped me.

"Ms. Rossitto, Michele says he'll formally propose to me next month. I'd like to invite you."

Just as I was about to refuse, a debt collector swaggered over. "What are you still standing around for? Get to work. That loan from five years ago has been snowballing with interest. The number is insane now. If you can't pay next time, it won't be just one 'part' we take."

Michele's expression darkened instantly. "I never imagined you could fall this far. A proper path was right in front of you, but you chose to gamble. Alma, have you completely lost your mind just because you're broke?"

Michele was dressed in a tailored suit. Even his cufflinks cost as much as a sports car.

How nice.

He was no longer the broken man rotting away in a rented apartment.

I put on a familiar, ingratiating smile and sent the debt collectors away. Then, I looked back at Michele.

"Yes. I've gone mad from being poor. Don Giuliani, could you lend me a little more?"

"Oh my God, Ms. Rossitto really has had it rough since leaving you," Barbara said, leaning against Michele's shoulder.

Her eyes glistened with tears, but the look she gave me was pure mockery.

"If she hadn't betrayed you back then, you wouldn't have been fueled by resentment and clawed everything back in just five years," she said. "Michele, why don't you give her some money?"

Michele's gaze instantly turned cold at her words. He remembered too well how merciless I had been when I betrayed him, calling him a loser and leaving him alone in the rain all night.

In those five years, his own brothers had turned on him, allies had deceived him, and bullets had brushed past his scalp. Through it all, he had never wavered or given in.

He had only one goal, which was to climb to the very top and make me regret it.

The last flicker of feeling died in Michele's eyes, leaving only sheer indifference.

"A gambler's greed has no end. Money given to her would disappear like water poured into the sea."

He couldn't be bothered to spare me another glance. With an arm around Barbara, he turned and walked away.

My strength finally gave out, and I slid down the cold wall until I was sitting on the floor.

Blood had already soaked through the fabric at my side.

With trembling hands, I took out my phone and tried to call an ambulance. Before I could dial, another debt collection message popped up.

I shut the phone off.

At this point, I couldn't even afford a visit to a clinic.

As I watched Michele walk away, a soft, bitter laugh escaped me.

He had put out the word, promising a massive reward for the mysterious benefactor who had helped him when he hit rock bottom five years ago. He had no idea that person was me.

Five years ago, I had signed that loan contract, which was no different from selling myself. I even hired a third-rate actor to play a newly wealthy heir from another family.

I had looked at Michele with the coldest disdain and told him I only followed winners and money. He had lost everything and couldn't even afford to buy me a simple, decent necklace.

I told him I didn't want a life of fear by his side. All I wanted was a luxurious apartment and the freedom to indulge.

When the family fell apart and his father died, Michele didn't shed a single tear. Yet at that moment, his eyes reddened. He dropped all his pride, grabbed my arm, and pleaded in a choked voice for me not to leave.

I shrugged him off, linked arms with the actor, and stepped into the rain without looking back.

Over the past five years, I had grown used to debt collectors' threats and beatings. After losing a kidney, I couldn't handle high-intensity work anymore, and keeping up with repayments became impossible.

From that moment on, my fate was sealed. They would dismantle me and sell me piece by piece until every bit of value was drained. The moment I signed that contract, I accepted that I wouldn't have a good death.

What I hadn't expected was to see Michele again before that day. He now held immense power, living in near the same glory as the Giuliani family's prime.

The only difference was the woman at his side.

That was when I scrolled past some gossip from the underground world.

"New Don Spotted Kissing Girlfriend at Nightclub Kiss—Marriage Rumors Explode."

Envy ran through the comment section. People claimed this real-life drama outshone any movie.

Michele's success in both love and business should have comforted me. Instead, my eyes burned with a sharp sting. Just then, my phone rang.

"Ms. Rossitto? This is Barbara. Michele regrets it. He wants the 50 thousand dollars returned. If you refuse, he will sue you for extortion. The family's legal team isn't something you can afford to provoke. I am sorry, Ms. Rossitto. I tried to speak up for you, but Michele truly despises you now."

I gave a bitter smile, said nothing, and ended the call.

After standing there for a while, I dug a crumpled business card out of the trash and dialed the number. "Mr. Frattini? I agree to work at Club Luna."

I used to have my limits. I would rather wash dishes than step into a nightclub soaked in lust and neon.

Now that Michele hated me so deeply, he would probably take some satisfaction in knowing I was serving drinks in a nightclub for a measly sum.

With my battered body, it was the fastest way to earn money. If making a living meant staying alive, who would willingly wait to be torn apart piece by piece?

That night, I arrived at Club Luna. I endured the discomfort as I changed into the revealing uniform.

Balancing a tray in my hands, I pushed open the door to the assigned private room. Then I saw Michele, seated in the place of honor.

He wore a perfectly tailored black shirt, holding a costly cigar between his fingers. With his collar undone, the tattoo shimmered faintly in the shadows.

Barbara was draped in designer brands and glittering jewels from head to toe. A sparkling new diamond necklace rested at her throat.

Beyond the old tattoo, Michele's body showed no trace of her.

I stole a quick glance. Then, I lowered my eyes, set down the tray, and turned to leave.

In the noisy private room, Michele was too busy feeding Barbara fruit to notice me. Barbara, however, noticed me immediately. "Wait. Open the wine first."

I had no choice but to step closer and grab the corkscrew. It was my first day, and I was clumsy. I tried several times, but each attempt failed. Michele's gaze swept over me, and he frowned.

My hands trembled, and I applied too much force. The cork flew straight into Barbara.

She screamed and slapped me, sending me crashing to the floor.

"Do you even know how to do anything properly? This dress is custom-made. Even if I sold you, it wouldn't cover the cost!"

Furious, she grabbed the bottle and swung it toward me. I instinctively curled up to protect my head, but the pain never came.

When I opened my eyes, Michele had caught her wrist.

He took the bottle from her hand, looking at her with indulgence. "It's not worth getting angry over trash like this. It's just a dress. Tomorrow, I'll buy the entire brand and give it to you."

He looked down at me, and I trembled from head to toe. His eyes flickered with something unreadable before a mocking smile spread across his face.

"Are you mute?" he asked. "Don't you know how to talk? These people are all my friends, and each of them is wealthy. If you stay silent, how do you expect to tempt them into tipping you?"

Barbara immediately ripped off my mask and laughed. "Ms. Rossitto? How did you end up here? I've always been grateful to you. If you hadn't given up Michele, I'd never have met him. If you're struggling, you should have asked me for help instead of putting yourself out here."