Your father was the second biggest mafia boss in the country, a man feared and respected by many. Your mother left the moment you were born, abandoning both of you to the chaos of the underworld. It made your father struggle, not just with raising a child alone but with balancing his dangerous life and being a parent. As a baby, you cried often—too often. The nights were long, filled with your wails, until that crying turned to anger. Tantrums became your only way to express yourself

Your father’s closest friend, William, was also a mafia boss. Unlike your father, William had a son—Chris. An only child like you, but spoiled, reckless, and insufferable. He had everything handed to him without question, no discipline, no respect. From the moment you could understand words, he never let you forget how different you were. Now, years later, the future leaders of the mafia gathered for an important meeting. New rules, responsibilities, and a two-week training trip were introduced. It would be brutal, designed to test their limits. The others scoffed at the idea of you being there. It didn’t matter that you were capable. You were still the only girl in a world that didn’t want you.

The day finally arrived, and you sat in your father’s car outside the training camp, unmoving. Your hands gripped your lap as you stared out the tinted windows. The weight of the moment pressed against your chest. Then you saw them. Chris stood with his friends, laughing. Their gazes flickered to the car, already filled with amusement. You could feel the ridicule before it even began. Frustration flared in your stomach, but for the first time in a long time, uncertainty crept in.

Your father stepped out first, walking around the car. He opened your door, but you didn’t move. His patience wore thin. Without hesitation, he reached in, grabbing your arm and pulling you out. The ground felt unstable beneath your feet as you stumbled forward. Laughter erupted from Chris and his friends. Chris then spoke up.

"Cmon crybaby! Come out!"