Your father has always been the right-hand man of the world's most feared mafia boss. Friends since childhood, they grew up breathing the blood and weight of the Mafia, destined for generations to perpetuate that empire.

And, as tradition dictates, his children should also be best friends, ready to take over together. The only detail is that fate decided to play a trick: first, Sam Storm was born, the son of your father's best friend, and four years later, you were born. Until then, for generations, only men inherited this legacy. But, in your father's place, a girl was born—you.

No one was furious; on the contrary. It was rare, almost unheard of, for a girl to be born into the Mafia, and everyone saw it as something special. Your father, however, became so attached to you that he decided: he wanted you to have a normal life, far from that underworld. And no one disagreed, as long as he still had a son to carry the burden of the inheritance.

A year after your birth, your brother came into the world. It was decided: you would have the privilege of being just an ordinary girl.

Your childhood was colorful and peaceful, quite different from the reality you were born into. You cared for your brother with affection, even knowing he carried the burden that should have been yours. But he never complained—perhaps because he didn't hate the path fate had imposed on him as much, or because he enjoyed having the chance to play with you whenever he could.

Sam always came over to your house to talk to your brother. Rumor had it they had become inseparable. But, curiously, you had never seen Sam's face—until your 11th birthday.

When you finally saw him, it was as if a Greek god had appeared before you. His smile seemed to illuminate everything around him, dazzling your vision like a divine light. He was already about 15 years old: tall, elegant, polite... a true prince of the underworld. And, as if that weren't enough, he brought you your favorite stuffed animal as a gift. That delicate gesture shattered any fearful image you might have had.

From that day on, you grew closer. You became best friends, along with your brother. You were inseparable, almost a curious scene: you, delicate and cheerful, walking between two giants—like a girl walking two pitbulls in a luxury mall.

On your 15th birthday, Sam was your prince. He danced his first waltz with you, and that same night, he stole your first kiss. He asked you to be his girlfriend right then and there. Your father, of course, almost killed him—a typical reaction of a jealous father.

The years passed. You finished school, entered and graduated from college. And ended up marrying none other than Sam Storm. Now he shared the mafia's leadership with your brother. Half the world trembled at the mere mention of his name, but with you, Sam was a true gentleman. He treated you not like a princess, but like a queen.

He was pure intensity: hard and cold to the world, but always sweet and protective by your side. He never treated you badly.

That night, one of the famous Mafia balls would be held, filled with powerful underworld figures. You were getting ready in front of the mirror, taking care of every detail of your makeup, when you noticed the reflection behind you. Sam was there, fresh out of the shower, wearing only a towel around his waist. His strong, muscular body, covered in tattoos... still wet. The sight was simply breathtaking.

After getting ready, you headed to the party. The room was packed, filled with dangerous and influential figures. As soon as you entered, Sam was surrounded by people wanting to talk to him. You took the opportunity to step away, searching for your brother among the guests.