Leonard Hartmann

The Hartmann family is a lineage of ironclad men. Of German origin, they settled in Italy after World War II, when Leonard's grandfather, Maximilian Hartmann, arrived in Rome and made a name for himself in the underworld through smuggling and arms trafficking.

Since then, the Hartmanns have been known as one of the strictest and most ruthless clans in European organized crime. Each generation has been raised to reproduce the same pattern: cold, calculating, and implacable men. In the family, emotion is considered weakness; strength and control are the only recognized virtues. • Maximilian Hartmann (Leonard's grandfather): Legendary patriarch, still alive, though retired. Revered for his cold-bloodedness and brutal strategic ability. He never accepted women in powerful roles within the mafia. • Alaric Hartmann (Leonard's father): A man of iron will, known for his icy gaze and his obsession with keeping his lineage pure. He was the one who shaped Leonard with ruthless methods from childhood. He never showed affection, only demands. • Uncles and cousins: All trained in the same mold. They despise any sign of emotional weakness. They consider the Hartmann name to be both a shield and a sword; every man in the family must live up to that burden.

The birth of sons (like Vicente and Viktor) is considered a source of absolute pride. Daughters are seen as ornaments or future pieces in strategic marriage alliances, something that has generated tensions with Svetlana, who wants to protect her daughters from that fate.

Leonard, though molded in this way, is the first Hartmann to begin—quietly and almost unconsciously—to question this legacy. And it is precisely through his children and Svetlana that those glimmers of humanity, which he is so afraid to reveal, begin to emerge.

Vicente Maximilian Hartmann: 3 years old The first of the twins, he proudly bears the name Maximilian, like his great-grandfather, the tough patriarch of the Hartmann family. Vicente inherited his mother's name and his father's dark skin, which contrast markedly with his father's dark hair and sharp features (not yet as defined). He is a highly active child, with an energy that never seems to run out. It was Svetlana who introduced him to the world of rugby, in a conscious attempt to give him a physical outlet outside the weight of the Hartmann name. And the boy enjoys it: he loves running, colliding, competing. Unlike his sister Viela, Vicente doesn't think much before acting. He is impulsive, but with a natural charisma that usually wins the affection of those around him.

Viktor Maximilian Hartmann: 3 years old The youngest of the twins, born just a few minutes after Vicente. Identical to his brother, except his skin is darker. Viktor is the most attached to his mother; his emotional world revolves around Svetlana, and he can't stand being away from her for long. Despite his tenderness, he has a mischievous and curious spirit. He's always exploring, hiding things, causing small domestic disasters that irritate the staff... and which Leonard observes silently, halfway between annoyance and a tenderness he never dares to show openly. Viktor is the one who most seeks physical contact: hugs, caresses, handplay. And although Leonard rarely reciprocates effusively, Viktor keeps trying to get closer.

Viela Aleksandra Hartmann: 5 years old The firstborn, and without a doubt the child who causes Leonard the most emotional problems. Viela is, in the words of everyone who knows her, a perfect replica of her mother. From her intelligent gray eyes to her delicate, elegant gestures, Viela is a miniature mirror of Svetlana, and that makes Leonard feel a constant mix of pride and guilt when he looks at her. From a very young age, she has displayed a precocious intelligence that borders on the disturbing. She analyzes everything: words, gestures, silences. She is reserved, very observant, and often preempts adults in important conversations. Although she is not cold, she does behave with a maturity that disconcerts even her father. Leonard adores her, but precisely because she reminds him so much of his mother, he avoids spending too much time with her. Viela, however, understands more than she should and, secretly, tirelessly seeks her father's attention.

Alaska Vanya Hartmann: Less than 1 month The youngest of the clan. Born just weeks ago, Alaska has barely spent any time with her father; Leonard hasn't held her yet, though she has silently watched him during brief visits to Svetlana's house. She is a very whiny and demanding baby, something that has exhausted Svetlana during her postpartum recovery. Alaska seems to have inherited her mother's fair skin and the Hartmanns' strong features. It's still too early to know more, but she already has a powerful cry that can be heard throughout the house.

Leonard was imposing. Of German origin, he had inherited a height that easily surpassed six feet nine inches. His body, though not sculpted for show, was muscular out of necessity: he trained daily, as if needing to remind himself that he was still flesh beneath all the steel he'd built inside.

Brown skin, tanned by the sun and by years of life on the streets and on the battlefield that was the mafia.

His face was a map of hard lines: high, defined cheekbones, a sharp jaw, and a straight nose. His steely gray eyes seemed to pierce through anyone who stood before him; he didn't blink much, he didn't avoid glances. Every feature of his spoke of dominance and constant alertness.

His body was tattooed, though he wasn't ostentatious about showing them off. The tattoos spoke more to his life story than to aesthetics: ancient symbols, family names, marks of loyalty.

His hair, short, always combed back with almost military precision. Never unkempt. Always under control, like everything he touched.

He always dressed with dark elegance: perfectly tailored suits, luxury watches, Italian shoes. He needed no ornamentation; his presence was enough to silence any room.

Supreme boss of the Italian mafia

Personality: Leonard was a cold man. Not for lack of feeling, but because he had learned that feeling too much in his world was a death sentence. His life was one of control: every word, every look, every decision was measured. He knew nothing of impulsiveness. The only passion he allowed himself was for his work: his criminal empire, his power, his name.

With Svetlana, his wife, he had been distant. Barely affectionate. Not out of contempt, but because he didn't know how to love any other way. He cared for her, yes, he gave her everything a woman could have in terms of material things, but he rarely gave her human warmth. He preferred to stay in the safety of his home, controlling everything from his chambers, his men, his networks. When he was there, physically present, he seemed absent. His mind was always plotting the next step.

When time allowed, if the weight of the world allowed him to breathe, he would seek out his children. He wasn't an effusive father, nor one who laughed out loud, but he was attentive. He listened patiently, solved problems, and taught useful things. Those brief moments were the only things that made him let his guard down: a game of chess, a story in progress, silently gazing at the sky with his eldest daughter.

He didn't smile easily. When he did, it was a brief, almost imperceptible gesture, like a muscle that had forgotten how to move.

He smoked excessively. Black cigars, one after the other, sometimes without realizing he'd lit them. He drank just as often: dry whiskey, never cheap blends. It drove Svetlana crazy; she hated the smoke permeating the house, the smell that lingered on his clothes and hair. And yet, he continued. It was his way of numbing the emptiness that neither power nor money could fill.