Chapter 3

"Wake up."

I blinked, the harsh fluorescent lights of the lounge burning my retinas.

I was sprawled on the sofa, my mother looming over me, her face twisted in a mask of anger and shame.

Audrey stood behind her, arms crossed, shaking her head in disappointment.

I tried to sit up. "What happened?"

"You have some nerve," my mother hissed, gripping my arm tightly, making me gasp. "Attacking that boy in public? Insulting him? Are you out of your mind?"

"Me?" I whispered in disbelief.

Audrey interrupted, her voice as cold as ice. "Colin told us everything. He said you lost it because that boy looked young and healthy, and you were jealous. You pushed him hard and hurt Colin."

I glanced at Colin.

He was sitting in a chair not far away, looking upset.

In that moment, he glanced at me.

Behind the tears, he smiled.

He was reveling in this.

The door to the lounge slammed open, freezing the air in an instant, the temperature dropping ten degrees.

A group of armed men in black suits strode in. Their tailored outfits couldn't hide the bulges of holsters under their arms.

"Which one of you is the Sterling president's husband?" The lead woman's voice was chillingly cold.

My father stepped forward, puffing out his chest. "I'm Charles Cross. Who the hell are you? If you're here for money, we've got plenty—"

"The boy you assaulted," the woman interrupted, completely ignoring my father's bravado, "his name is Julian Moretti."

My father's face drained of color, looking like a corpse.

Even the usually proud Audrey froze.

In this city, anyone involved in business knew the weight of the Moretti name. Seraphina Moretti controlled the dark web, the underground ports, and half the city's wealth. And Julian was her only brother.

"This... this is a misunderstanding," Audrey stammered, her voice cracking for the first time.

The lead woman scanned the room, her gaze landing on Colin, who let out a terrified scream and shrank behind Audrey.

Then her eyes turned to me.

I was still lying on the sofa, my gaze unfocused.

"We're taking the assailant. Our boss wants to speak to him personally."

Audrey didn't hesitate, not even for a second.

She and my mother pointed at me in unison.

"Him," Audrey said, her voice cold and decisive, "it's him. Evan. That's the crazy one. He attacked Julian. We were just scolding him for it."

I looked at my wife. I thought her betrayal would hurt, but it didn't.

Where my heart used to beat, there was only an empty echo. She had pushed me into the gun's line of a mobster to protect her precious brother hiding behind her.

"Take him," the woman ordered, yanking me up from the sofa.

My legs felt weak, but she didn't care. She dragged me toward the door. As I passed Colin, he peeked at me through his fingers. His eyes were dry.

"I'm sorry, bro," he sobbed, loud enough for the black-clad men to hear. "I tried to stop you. I told you not to hurt him. Why are you always so violent?"

The zip ties bit into my wrists, the hard plastic cutting into my heated skin.

They shoved me into the backseat of a black SUV.

The city lights streaked past like comets, blurring into a haze.

I leaned my head against the cold glass and closed my eyes.

Just kill me, I thought. Maybe dying at the hands of the mob would spare me from the agony of surgery.

We arrived at a hidden mansion's basement, filled with the scent of expensive cigars and a faint whiff of blood.

I was pushed into a dimly lit, spacious office at the end of a hallway.

Behind a massive mahogany desk sat a woman who looked like a queen of the night.

Seraphina Moretti.

She wore a black silk blouse, her head bent as she wiped down a Beretta with a white cloth, her movements slow and rhythmic, yet exuding a sense of menace.

"You're either very bold," she said, her voice low and husky, tinged with a dangerous Italian accent, "or you're tired of living. No one dares to touch Julian."

She finally looked up.

Her eyes were dark and deep, like a cold predator.

They swept over my pale face, my disheveled hair, and my shaky, almost unstable stance.

She frowned.

"Are you the one who hurt my brother?" she asked. "Julian is trained in combat, but you look like someone who could be blown away by a gust of wind. How could you possibly hurt him?"

I tried to speak, but a violent cough seized me.

The deep pain from my organ failure exploded in my chest.

Seraphina watched me, her frown deepening. She picked up the desk phone and dialed Audrey's number. She switched it to speaker.

"Mr. Sterling," Seraphina said calmly.

"Ms. Moretti," Audrey's voice filled the room, betraying her anxiety, "we are shocked by Evan's actions. My legal team has prepared ample compensation—"

"This man you sent," Seraphina said, staring at me, "he doesn't look like someone who fights. In fact... he looks like a man on the verge of death."

"Don't be fooled by him!" Audrey scoffed on the line, her tone dripping with arrogance and disdain. "Ms. Moretti, you don't understand. He's a pathological liar who'll do anything to get what he wants! To avoid donating a kidney to Colin, he'll use any excuse. He's just a perpetrator hiding behind a mask of weakness!"

"Is that so?" Seraphina leaned back in her chair.

"Yes!" Audrey insisted. "He's a lunatic. Just give him a lesson, and let him live long enough to donate his kidney. No matter the cost, the Sterling Group will cover it."

My wife had just allowed a mob boss to torture me, while kindly reminding her to "leave him one organ."

A laugh bubbled up in my throat.

Hysterical, helpless, and desperate.

"What's he doing?" Audrey asked coldly over the phone.

"He's laughing," Seraphina replied, a flicker of complexity in her eyes.

The laughter turned into dry heaving. The rusty taste that had been stuck in my throat all day suddenly surged like a tide.

I couldn't hold it back.

I bent over violently, blood gushing from my mouth, splattering Seraphina's pristine desk, staining the scattered papers and her silver handgun.

The room fell into silence.

I collapsed on the carpet, gasping for air but unable to breathe, blood dripping madly down my chin.

"What was that noise?" Audrey asked warily over the speaker.

Seraphina stared at the horrifying bloodstains on the desk.

She looked at me, curled up on the floor, trembling violently. For the first time, that cold queen mask cracked, revealing pure shock.

"He just coughed up blood," Seraphina's voice tightened, "a lot of it."

There was a two-second pause on the line. Then Audrey let out a weary, cold laugh.

"Oh, don't be fooled, Ms. Moretti. He's doing this for attention. He probably hid a blood capsule or bit his tongue. Just ignore his performance. If he were really dying, how could he still have the strength to fight?"

Seraphina stared at the dark red pool of blood rapidly spreading on the carpet.

Then she fixed her gaze on the speakerphone, a terrifying killing intent crystallizing in her dark eyes.

"Performance?" she repeated softly.

Smack! She abruptly hung up the phone.

The busy signal rang out, and the room returned to silence, leaving only my broken, wheezing breaths.

"Call my personal doctor," Seraphina shouted at the bodyguards outside, flipping over her desk. "Get him here, now!"