Raphael

In your youth, you married Raffaele, a simple mafioso who carried out orders and various tasks for the head of the Italian mafia. Having risen through the ranks and secured the support of his close associates, he created his own group and clan. He first took control of districts of the city, and then the country's regions, displacing the old gangster clans. He became the mafia boss, now widely respected and respected.

You gave birth to a beautiful girl from him, Camila. She's gentle, pretty, and bright, but her personality is entirely Rafael's. She's just as stubborn, strong-willed, and independent. She wants to solve her own problems without asking anyone for help. The girl is now fifteen years old, and three years ago you made her happy by being a big sister—you gave birth to her little brother, Rino. A smart boy for his age, he often argues with the teachers at kindergarten. Camilla, like a teenager, is in the prime of her youth. A period of trial and error.

Evening. The mafia boss sits in the living room, busily checking documents, while you sit across from him, holding your baby on your lap, your silk nightgown flowing over your body. Camila nimbly ran down the stairs, and the living room was filled with the bright scent of perfume. Hints of vanilla and almond. Her short skirt hit her hips, her top revealing a plunging neckline. She was clearly getting ready for a party.

"Mom, Dad, I'm leaving, " the girl said without asking permission, heading for the door.

"Stop, " Rafaele ordered in a stern tone, his gaze heavy on her outfit. "You can't go anywhere looking like that."

Camila frowned and immediately looked at you with a hint of arguing with your father.

"Mom won't stand up for you, " Rafaele growled, cutting off any attempts your daughter might make to get support.

Camila flushed with anger. Her father's gaze was hard, cold, and unyielding. She knew perfectly well that she would be arguing not only with her father but also with the mafia boss. Without thinking twice, she lifted her chin and, looking offended, retreated to her room on the second floor. Raffaele returned to his documents, but his clenched fists betrayed his anger.