Watching their retreating figures, I choked back a sob and stumbled backstage, where I dry-swallowed a triple dose of painkillers.

The backstage door was kicked open, and the club owner, Irina, rushed in and gave me a resounding slap across the face.

My cheek instantly swelled, hot and stinging, and blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

"You walking curse!"

"Do you have any idea who that was? Samuel Carver! The Don could have kept this place booked for a week, and we'd be rolling in it. But you had to ruin everything! Get out. You're gone tomorrow!"

"You're going to pay for what this cost me!"

I clutched my face, spat out a mouthful of blood, and said in a flat, emotionless voice.

"I don't have any money."

Irina's face hardened, her fingers digging into my arm and leaving an angry purple bruise.

"Then you'll entertain the guests! Rocco Gallo specifically asked for you. If you take good care of him, you can make up for tonight's losses."

"I'm not going. I'm sick, I can't drink!"

Even if I was going to die, I wanted to do so with some dignity.

Seeing my defiance, Irina's grip tightened, and she snarled.

"If I hadn't saved you three years ago, you'd be dead in a ditch somewhere! Your life is mine!"

Then, without another word, she shoved me into a private room thick with the smell of marijuana.

The room stank of alcohol. Sprawled on the main sofa was none other than Rocco Gallo, the man who had been taunting Samuel earlier.

Rocco pulled me into his lap, his greasy palm immediately landing on my waist.

As I struggled, my eyes caught a glimpse of his phone on the coffee table.

The screen was lit, and he was speaking to the person on the other end.

"Don't worry, Scarlett. I've got the information on the Carver family's shipping route. I promise I'll handle her."

Scarlett again!

Three years ago, she framed me for betraying the family, killed my child, and forced me into a life of wandering.

And now, three years later, she was bribing Rocco Gallo to destroy the last shred of dignity I had left!

Hatred surged in my chest. Like a madwoman, I grabbed a wine bottle from the table and smashed it over Rocco's head.

"Ah! You fucking psycho!"

Rocco screamed in pain and shoved me away.

I took the opportunity to scramble to my feet and stumble toward the door.

Behind me, I heard Rocco's furious shouts and the sound of pursuit. I didn't dare look back; I just ran for my life.

It wasn't until I burst into the back alley, trembling all over, that I dialed the number I knew by heart.

When the call connected, I swallowed my pride and said in a trembling voice.

"Samuel, you have to help me."

"Scarlett gave Rocco Gallo your family's shipping route in exchange for him destroying me!"

A beat of dead silence hung on the line, then Samuel's voice cut through, dripping with ice and disgust.

"You psycho! You're like a rabid dog. When will you stop harassing Scarlett?!"

The line went dead.

I clutched my phone, my body turning cold, each breath a painful sting.

From the corner of the street, I heard the voices of Carver's men: "The Don's orders. We don't know her. We saw nothing."

They were standing right at the entrance to the alley, yet they looked right through me.

How could he be so cruel?

His words, "We don't know her," cut deeper than Rocco's assault or Irina's beatings.

Why was he doing this to me? Why couldn't he believe me just once?

I shook my head, my body numb, and drifted out of the alley like a ghost.

I didn't need saving. I just needed five thousand dollars, a proper grave.

I began to trudge in the direction of the Carver family estate.

The night dew soaked my clothes, and the cold wind from the lake chilled me to the bone.

The road snaked and twisted. I gripped the guardrail, dragging myself upward one step at a time.

As dawn approached, I finally saw the brightly lit manor on the mountainside.

Just then, my burner phone rang. I quickly answered it.

The voice of the staff member from St. Jude's Church was impatient.

"Ms. Hayes, today is the final deadline to pay for the cemetery plot you reserved!"

"Have you gotten the money or not? If you don't have it, we'll have to give the spot to someone else!"

In my panic, I coughed up another mouthful of blood. I hastily wiped it clean and assured her.

"I'll get it! I'll definitely have it today!"

"Please, just wait a little longer. I promise I'll transfer the money by the end of the day."

After hanging up, I clutched the phone and used the last of my strength to press the intercom button at the manor gate.

When Samuel saw me, covered in blood, his eyes flickered for a barely perceptible moment.

I stumbled toward him, fell to my knees, and grabbed the hem of his trousers, my voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable.

"Samuel, I'm begging you, give me the five thousand dollars."

I held up a broken piece of metal in my hand, my voice choked with sobs.

"Samuel, you wanted your child, didn't you? I buried him. I used this to mark the spot. It's the St. Christopher medallion you gave me..."

But then Scarlett emerged from behind him. Her eyes narrowed as she said mockingly.

"Samuel, she's just playing the victim to get money out of you. She's pulled this kind of stunt before."

Samuel's expression instantly turned cold, and the flicker of emotion from moments before vanished without a trace.

He slapped the medallion fragment out of my hand and looked down on me as if I were a piece of trash.

"I told you to bring me my son, alive. Only then will you have any right to make demands of me!"

"Until then, I won't waste a single cent on you!"

Despair engulfed me.

I had no idea where else I could get five thousand dollars.

All I wanted was a peaceful death. What was so wrong with that? Why couldn't they give me even that one small mercy?

The pent-up grievances of three years, the pain of losing my child, the fury of being framed, the despair of not being allowed to die in peace...

It all surged forth in that moment, overwhelming my senses.

I don't know where I found the strength, but I stumbled forward and tackled Scarlett, knocking her onto the lawn.

Samuel rushed over to pull me off. His face twisted and distorted before my eyes, but I couldn't hear a sound.

I swung my arms numbly, slapping her face left and right.

My nails raked across her skin, leaving bloody scratches.

Like a madwoman, I repeated over and over.

"Why do you keep hurting me? Why!"

Then I turned on Samuel, who was trying to restrain me, clawing and beating at him, letting out a heart-wrenching scream.

"Why won't you believe me? Why? Why?!"

In the chaotic struggle, the rainy night from three years ago flashed before my eyes. Bullets shattered the car window. I desperately tried to shield the Don and Donna. Then, darkness, as the butt of a gun slammed into the back of my head.