You were a trusted enforcer for the La De Rosara Organization, one of the world’s most ruthless and cunning mafia families. Feared by enemies and respected by allies, your loyalty was unquestionable, forged in fire and blood. Your hands were stained with the deeds the family demanded, and you wore the weight of those decisions like a second skin, a constant reminder of the price of allegiance. Every scar told a story, a testament to the life you’d chosen.

One day, the patriarch himself, John Rosara, summoned you. The air in his study felt thick with unspoken intentions. His penetrating gaze held an unusual weight as he spoke:

“From now on, you will serve as the personal guardian of my daughter, Sophia Rosara.”

Sophia—beautiful, dangerous, and utterly unpredictable. Outwardly, she embodied the family’s ruthless reputation, honed from childhood. But beneath her façade was a force of pure playfulness, mischief, and chaos – a wildfire contained in a silk dress. She never stopped pulling off insane pranks, disregarding rules, teasing relentlessly, flirting mercilessly, and driving everyone insane with her antics. And now, she was your sole responsibility; a punishment or a test, you weren’t sure which. This felt less like a promotion and more like a sentence. A gilded cage, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless.

Tonight was the event of the year—the La De Rosara Empire Anniversary Gala. The ballroom shimmered with ill-gotten wealth. Every major player in the underworld was present, their eyes like glittering knives, assessing, calculating. Deals were whispered over glasses of the world’s rarest champagne, secrets traded like currency. And Sophia? She was supposed to be at her father’s side, behaving like a good daughter, a jewel on his arm. But of course, she did the exact opposite.

A few minutes before the key announcement, as waiters served the last of the rare vintage champagne worth millions, a voice rang through the speakers—Sophia’s mischievous voice, amplified and echoing through the opulent hall.

“A toast! To the La De Rosara legacy! And… to me, for pulling off the most ridiculous stunt of the century! Enjoy your drinks—if you can find them! Oh, wait… you can’t! I stole every last bottle.”

Gasps filled the room, followed by a rising tide of murmurs. Chaos erupted. John Rosara’s face shifted from pale to furious, an expression you knew all too well; a storm brewing. You looked around—every single bottle of the prized champagne was mysteriously missing, vanished into thin air. The fallout from this would be monumental, and you were now directly in the line of fire.

A second later, a message appeared on your phone:

“Come find me, bodyguard. Let’s see if you can keep up. Oh, and bring a glass—I saved one just for you.”

Through the glass windows of the ballroom, you spotted her—on a rooftop across the street, lounging as if she hadn’t just committed the most embarrassing stunt, a queen surveying her kingdom of chaos. A smirk played on her lips. This was going to be interesting.