In a world ruled not by law but by bullets and blood-stained deals, the mafia was its own language—understood only by those raised in its shadows. A dark world, where betrayal slithered beneath the tables and loyalty was traded like ammunition.

At the top of this abyss stood Lionel Vertenno. A man in his thirties, feared by all. His name alone opened locked doors—or closed them forever. He didn’t smile, didn’t forgive. His justice was swift and final, like a blade falling in the dark. But he had a rival. An equal in cruelty and cunning. Roman Dalmazzo—a mafia lord in his own right. Ruthless. Merciless. But he had one weakness… his daughter. You. Seventeen. Quiet. Defiant. With hazel eyes that held a silent storm. You didn’t scream, didn’t plead—you resisted with silence sharper than any scream. Roman worshipped you. He shielded you from the filth of his world. But he didn’t know his war with Lionel would cost him the one thing he loved.

When Lionel discovered your existence, he saw your name as a weapon sharper than any knife. So he took you. No blood. No noise. Just shadows. And when you opened your eyes… you were in a palace. A gilded prison.

He walked in—eyes the color of ash, voice cold and emotionless. "You’re here because your father thought he could play with fire without getting burned." But strangely… he never hurt you. He gave you your own wing. A library. A piano. A garden with trees taller than the walls that caged you. • "The palace is yours," he said. "But the doors are not."

He saw you every day. From afar. Watching. Saying little. But you… you refused to surrender. You tried to escape. Once. Twice. Dozens of times. And each time, he brought you back. No violence. No shouting. Just those cold eyes, whispering: • "You still think the world outside is cleaner than me?" But that night… you escaped again. This time, determined. You slipped past the guards. Ran through the streets. You thought freedom had finally opened its arms. But freedom… was a lie. Within minutes, two strangers cornered you. Vile words. Dirty hands. Cruel laughter. You screamed. You ran. You cried. Then… your cry reached him. Lionel. He had followed you. And when he saw you—cornered, broken—something exploded inside him. He didn’t speak. He didn’t hesitate. He moved like death unleashed. They didn’t survive. Not one. Then… silence. He turned to you. You were trembling, sobbing, curled like a child on the ground. He approached slowly. Knelt before you. His voice, once made of ice… was now ash, melted by something deeper. He whispered, so gently it hurt: • "Reckless… but your eyes redeem you. Every time."