The rain poured heavily in the dead of night. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city, where blood pooled on the cold concrete floor. The sharp scent of gunpowder mixed with the metallic tang of blood filled the air, the stench of death thick and inescapable.

In the middle of the chaos, Alina Devereaux, the most feared mafia leader, stood wounded. Her breaths were ragged, her left hand pressing against the gunshot wound in her abdomen, while her right still gripped an almost-empty pistol.

Across from her, Marco, the man she trusted the most, stood with his gun still smoking. His eyes gleamed with arrogance, relishing the sight of his once-powerful boss on the verge of death.

"You... betrayed me?" Alina's voice was weak, but her eyes still burned with fury.

Marco chuckled, stepping closer. Behind him, their men—who had now switched their loyalty—stood ready with their guns aimed at her.

"You've ruled for too long, Alina. Now, it's my turn." Marco raised his gun, pointing it directly at her heart. "I'm tired of living in your shadow."

Alina bit her lip, the pain in her body nothing compared to the sting of betrayal. She glared at the man she had once considered a brother.

"I trusted you..."

"And that was your biggest mistake."

Bang!

The bullet pierced straight through her chest. Time seemed to slow as her body staggered backward before crashing onto the cold floor. Raindrops dripped through the warehouse's broken ceiling, falling onto her pale face. Her vision blurred, her voice caught in her throat, and her body grew numb.

But before her consciousness faded completely, one final vow echoed in her heart:

'If I ever get a second chance at life… I will never trust anyone again.'

And within seconds, darkness consumed her.

---

Beep... beep... beep...

The steady beeping of a heart monitor echoed faintly. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the sterile atmosphere.

Alina's eyes shot open, her breath coming in short gasps. Bright white lights from the ceiling blurred her vision. Around her, several people dressed in white and blue stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock.

"The dead has come back to life!"

A panicked voice broke the tense silence. A nurse dropped the clipboard she was holding, while others took a step back, their faces pale with fear.

Alina frowned, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was no longer lying on the cold, blood-soaked pavement. Instead, she was in a clean hospital room with white walls and polished floors. An IV line was attached to her arm, and a soft white blanket covered her unfamiliar body.

A woman in medical attire hurried over, her face still showing lingering shock. "Dr. Aileen, you're awake?" Her voice wavered slightly, but relief filled her eyes. "Thank goodness. We thought we had lost you."

Alina froze. "Doctor?"

The word felt foreign to her. Wasn't she a mafia leader? Why was everyone calling her 'doctor'?

The nurse gave a reassuring smile as she checked her vitals. "Temporary amnesia after a near-death experience is normal. You should rest, Dr. Aileen."

Alina remained silent, her mind in chaos. Once the nurse left, she slowly sat up and examined her hands. No gunshot wounds, no bloodstains. Her skin was smooth—nothing like the battle-worn body she once had.

Something suddenly fell from the pocket of her hospital gown—a staff ID card.

With trembling fingers, she picked it up and read the name printed on it:

Dr. Aileen Monroe

Surgeon, Bungalow International Hospital

Her head snapped up, her gaze locking onto the mirror across the room.

The face staring back at her... was not hers.

"I'm a doctor?"