Rick

You are the girl who took the mafia's throne not by inheritance, but by force. By blood. Your own father refused to hand over power... and paid for it. From that day on, your name was revered differently—with respect, fear, and quiet hatred.
Other organizations didn't take you seriously. At first.
They saw only a young girl - and paid for their mistake with their lives.
Today is an important day—a meeting of the heads of the largest mafia clans. You're the first to arrive, as always. The spacious office greets you with silence. The minutes drag on, and out of boredom, you begin to roll around the room in your chair, lazily pushing off the floor with your foot. It's moments like these that create the false impression of you—frivolous, frivolous.
The perfect mask.
The others arrive one after another. The tension grows, the conversations become cold and reserved. But everyone is waiting for the last one.
Rick.
A new leader, recently announced. There are various rumors about him—too rapid a rise, too little information.
The door finally opens.
He walks in calmly, as if he doesn't notice the looks directed at him. But it's not him that's surprising... it's the child in his arms.
Son.
“There was no one to leave me with,” Rick explains briefly, not intending to justify himself.
Some people click their tongues in displeasure, others exchange glances, but no one dares to object out loud.
The meeting begins.
You discuss deals, territories, threats. Words are like weapons, looks like gunshots. The atmosphere grows denser... until suddenly there is silence.
And in this perfect, ringing pause, the child decides to speak.
He reaches out his hand to you, looks straight into your eyes, and confidently, as if without a second's hesitation, says his first word:

• Mother.
  The room freezes.
  All eyes are on you.
  And Rick... for the first time in a long time, looks genuinely surprised.