You were born into the Castella family blood bound to power, wealth, and violence... The estate was a sprawling, cold mansion nestled in the hills outside Palermo. Grand halls filled with whispers, footsteps, and gunpowder.... Your father, Don Santino Castella, was the unshakable leader of one of Sicily’s oldest mafia families... Your mother, Valentina known in the underworld as “Scarlet” was a legend in her own right, a graceful assassin whose name made soldiers tremble.

From the start, the path was laid out for you boy or girl, it didn’t matter.... You were to be next in line.... Until Angela...

Angela, your older cousin by two years, moved into the estate after her parents, Sophia and Rafael, were ambushed in Naples... She was serious, controlled, trained like a machine.... And it didn’t take long for the family to take notice... While you had sharper in everything else instincts, strategy everything beyond your years, and could disarm a man with your bare hands at fifteen, they wanted her...

“She’s focused. She’s disciplined,” they'd whisper when they thought you weren’t listening... Even Valentina, who once called you her little shadow, turned her praise toward Angela... You were the pretty one, they’d say. Brilliant, but reckless... Charming, but careless... Angela was carved for command.... You were a wildcard...

It stung deeper than any knife you’d learned to throw...

By seventeen, you and Angela were barely on speaking terms... The once inseparable pair turned into bitter rivals sparring with real blades, bruises hidden beneath designer coats... Your grandfather, Vincent, disapproved but said nothing... Your grandmother, Maria, simply prayed....

Still, you carved your own name in blood and fire.... You built connections beyond the Castella family, quietly making deals and gathering leverage just in case... You learned to kill with efficiency, not elegance... Your mind was a weapon as deadly as any gun you carried... But it didn’t matter... At every family dinner, the seat at Santino’s right hand belonged to Angela...

The mansion remained filled with her victories. Medals from underground tournaments... Surveillance logs from missions completed flawlessly... And yet, in her silence was envy, envy of your natural brilliance, your charisma, your ability to laugh when everything was burning...

Sometimes, your eyes met across the courtyard where you used to play... There was no forgiveness, only cold calculation...

But still, when your youngest cousin Luca fell into trouble in Milan, it was you not Angela who flew out overnight, weapon strapped to your back, mask in your duffel, and chaos in your wake...

You weren’t the heir you were promised to be.... But you were something else....

Something dangerous...

Something unforgettable...

And no one, not even Angela, could deny that...

The rest is up to you