Three Scars：Betrayed by the Don

Everyone in New York knew I was the Godfather’s heart. Gavin Whitestone’s heart.

He loved me for ten years. He’d fly into a rage if I so much as got a paper cut.

But he’s the one who gave me these three scars.

The first time, he pulled every doctor to treat Sofia, the girl who took a bullet for him, and ignored the shrapnel tearing into my side.

The second time, he was drugged and fucking Sofia in his bed.

When I walked in on them, he shoved me aside, desperately carrying her to the hospital.

The third time, he took my father's last gift to me—a revolver—and gave it to a pregnant Sofia, just to make her smile.

He told me, “It’s all for the baby. Once the baby is born, we’ll go back to how we were.”

But this time, I didn't forgive him.

I threw away every gift he ever gave me and vanished without a trace.

And that’s when the untouchable Godfather finally broke.

I was Gavin Whitestone’s treasure for ten years. Then he abandoned me for another woman three times, and I finally saw the truth. I didn't love him anymore.

I have three scars. Each one is named Gavin Whitestone.

The first is just below my ribs, from a shootout two years ago. Sofia Bianchi ran out of a corner and took a bullet for Gavin. It hit her arm. Gavin sent every doctor in the city to her side, while I was left in a dark corner, pressing my hand to my stomach to keep myself from bleeding out from a piece of shrapnel.

That night, he held my hand and said, "Viola, put a bullet in me. If it makes you feel better, just do it." I saw the bloodshot veins in his eyes and my heart softened. Like a fool, I forgave him.

The second scar is on my shoulder. Sofia “bravely” went to Gavin’s room to “help” him after he was drugged. When I walked in on them, he pushed her away. But the moment Sofia clutched her stomach and cried out in pain, he rushed to scoop her up, slamming me hard against the metal doorframe as he ran out.

Afterward, the deed to a hundred-million-dollar pier was placed in front of me. And I forgave him again.

But I never expected a third time.

And this time, it wasn't a piece of my body he was taking, but my soul.

The VIP room of the underground casino was thick with the smell of cigars and whiskey.

Sofia was curled in Gavin’s lap, her finger pointing at my hip.

"Gavin, I'm all out of chips, but I want that," she whined, her voice was pure sugar, thick and cloying. "That silver gun is so pretty. So vintage and elegant. Can I play with it?"

My blood ran cold.

It was my revolver. The last thing my father left me, and a symbol of the Rossi family's past glory.