In Italy, the leader of the Cosa Nostra and his wife lay in a massive bed. The man couldn’t stop kissing her as they laughed at their own madness.

“Darling, be careful with my belly,” she warned, laughing uncontrollably, while he only frowned.

“I’m going to get jealous. You don’t love me anymore…” She hugged and kissed him; they were two beings madly in love, even though they had been through so much to be together.

The man’s phone rang that night, and immediately, her expression tightened. She hated every time he left because she never knew if he would return. The woman loved him more than anything.

“I have to go, my love, but I swear I’ll be back quickly,” he announced, kissing her forehead before rushing out.

Tiziano Marconetti left the mansion. His phone wouldn’t stop ringing: it was Eleonora Alfieri, who had been calling him incessantly since they crossed paths at one of his nightclubs. What should have been a slip-up turned into blackmail to force him to be with her; every time she wanted to see him, he ran out of fear that she would destroy his marriage. He knew his wife, Giuliana, all too well: she would never forgive a betrayal.

Tiziano’s car sped through the streets of Italy. He needed to put Eleonora in her place: his wife needed him more than ever, and he couldn’t be bothered with these stupid calls. As he drove, he took out his phone, but the woman didn’t answer. He called again, but there was no response.

The car didn’t stop; he was only thinking of fixing things so he could return to his pregnant wife, unaware that leaving her alone would cost him dearly.

Tiziano’s mistress harassed him constantly. One day, she even showed up at the mansion to confront him for not visiting her. The man didn’t even know why he hadn’t put a bullet in her yet; because of this, the woman thought he loved her. That time she entered the mansion, Giuliana found them arguing, and he introduced her as a cousin he hadn’t seen in a long time. In fact, she stayed with them for two days, and one of those nights, he sneaked away to be with her in the next room.

This made it easy for the woman to enter the house that night. The guards let her pass because it had become customary for her to show up at all hours, and his wife no longer suspected anything. The woman went up to the bedroom and found Giuliana reading in bed. She held a storybook in one hand and narrated it joyfully while rubbing her belly with the other.

“Giuliana, dear, how are you?” Eleonora greeted as she entered the bedroom, smiling smugly.

“What are you doing here, Eleonora? At this hour? Did something happen? My husband isn’t here,” she replied innocently, unaware of the vile woman’s intentions.

“I know. He asked me to come keep you company because he thought he’d be late. Look, I brought this for you; the maid prepared it,” she handed her a juice she had brought from outside, poured into a glass.

“Thank you, but it’s not necessary. You’re very kind,” Giuliana refused, but Eleonora insisted so much that she had no choice but to accept. She drank it calmly, and they chatted for a while until Giuliana grew sleepy and fell asleep.

Eleonora left the mansion unseen and quickly returned to her apartment, though Tiziano had just arrived to find it empty.

Tiziano cursed and threw things to the ground.

“It’s always the same with this woman! When I see her, I’m going to kill her,” he shouted, filled with rage. His chest heaved, and he clenched his fists tightly, breathing roughly.

He took out his phone and called again. This time, she answered briefly to say she had gone out for some pills because she felt unwell and wouldn’t be long.

A few minutes later, Tiziano was desperate. When he saw her, he grabbed her by the arms and shook her.

“What the hell are you doing? How dare you call me over and then leave? You’re insane!” He pushed her, throwing her onto a sofa. “This is the last time you call me, you wretched woman, because I swear I’ll kill you!” He pulled his gun from his pants and aimed it at her forehead. The woman was overly excited, but even if that bullet escaped, she would be happy because she would finally achieve what she wanted: to get rid of two obstacles.

While all this was happening, Giuliana slept. What she had drunk contained a substance that would render her unconscious. Two hours after falling asleep, she woke up in severe pain; she clutched her stomach and screamed, tears streaming down her face. It was unbearable.

She screamed for someone. She called for Eleonora, for Tiziano, but finally, one of the maids heard her and called the men to take her to the clinic.

The men called Tiziano on the way to the clinic. The Italian was desperate; just hearing that his wife was unwell and not being there filled him with anger.

The man drove like a madman, not waiting for anyone. He only wanted her to be okay. He screamed that this would be the last time, that he would never see that woman again if anything happened to his wife.

Meanwhile, at the clinic, a woman entered with a heavy belly and a pale face. The contractions came like violent waves, stealing her breath.

Doctors ran, shouted, pushed metal carts, and prepared needles. But nothing was enough. The hemorrhage spread like a silent, black river.

The doctor told her to push, but she already felt torn apart from the inside; the pain was unbearable, and her chest hurt with every breath. The effort was immense, and yet, nothing could be done. The mother died before hearing her daughter’s first cry.

Tiziano arrived shortly after, desperate. He stood behind the glass and watched as the heart of the woman he loved faded away, while the baby’s cry filled the operating room like a cruel insult. He cursed under his breath for not being there, and he cursed the baby for surviving and killing the love of his life.

“We’re sorry, sir. We don’t know what happened; everything was fine, and suddenly, she arrived like this,” the doctor monitoring Giuliana had no medical explanation for what occurred; the tests revealed nothing.

“You’re a damned useless fool! I’ll kill you! Because you saved her and not my wife! It was my wife, not that damned spawn!” Filled with fury, he entered to embrace his wife’s lifeless body. He held her tightly against him as tears streamed down his face; he held her firmly, but nothing woke her. He kissed her, even though she was cold and lifeless. That day, at least a part of him died with her.

From that fateful night onward, Ginevra was not a daughter: she was a cruel reminder of death, the silent culprit of the tragedy that shattered her father. To him, every beat of the girl’s heart was an echo of his wife’s last breath.

That night, he returned home without the girl. The men brought her the next day. She was cared for by servants; he didn’t care if she ate or not. He dreamed that his wife had been saved and the “spawn,” as he called his daughter, had died.

He focused on his business and vented his pain by sleeping with Eleonora. This led to her becoming pregnant, and a year after his wife’s death, his new daughter was born. He had to bring Eleonora to live with him and make her his wife. This was only the beginning of hell for little Ginevra; at least he respected the name her mother had wanted for her.

Eight years have passed since that fateful night, when an innocent angel was left without her mother and earned the contempt of her father.

The Marconetti mansion has become a silent mausoleum, decorated with ghosts that no one sees, except Ginevra.

Tiziano barely looks at her; when he does, it is only to remind her that she should not exist.

Eleonora avoids her during the day, but at night she makes sure to make it clear that she is not welcome.

The girl, with her dark hair and eyes the same color as her mother's, spends hours in the garden, waiting for someone to approach and look at her, waiting for an "I love you" that never comes. The only affection she knows is that of the lady who takes care of her and who tells her how wonderful her mother was.

Sometimes the little girl talks to a broken doll, the only inheritance from her mother. Her nanny gave it to her and she has managed to hide it from Eleonora; that woman cannot tolerate anything that brings the memory of her mother to the present.

"Mom, do you think he will ever love me?" she asks every night before going to sleep, but no one answers. The cold doll only observes her as what she is: a lifeless object.

Every smile, every kind gesture, every celebration is for her little sister Elena, who is like the light in that house.

Both little girls go to school, but only the achievements of little Nora are noticed; Ginevra is a zero on the left in that house.

Today is very important: the school where both minors study celebrates Father's Day. The teachers of each girl have organized an activity for each student to create a card for their parents; they have also been invited to see their daughters recite poems.

The letter that Elena prepared is very beautiful; she filled it with glitter. The girl stood up surprised to see her father enter with a huge bouquet of flowers for her.

"Daddy... You came," the little girl shouts, full of emotion. Her father is her hero and having him that day is very important to her.

Her mother accompanies him, radiant as always, in an elegant suit; they are the perfect family, at least in the curious eyes of society.

"My sweet girl, of course I came, I wouldn't miss it for anything," he puts his strong arms around her and kisses her head. That special moment that every girl longs for, she enjoys it.

At the end of the activity, he decides to leave without looking back; there is nothing else in that place that stops him...

Meanwhile, in little Ginevra's room, she is set apart in a corner, with red eyes.

"Another year that he didn't come," she murmurs, looking at her doll and drying her mischievous tears.

She decides to observe the window and manages to see him leave with his wife, who is carrying her sister Elena in her arms. She squeezes her eyes while in her head she reproaches whoever can hear her for why she cannot receive a small part of the affection that belongs to her sister.

Later, the taunts are not long in coming; everyone thinks that she is the maid in that house or the daughter of a slip-up. The little girl just lowers her gaze and walks away from everyone so as not to cry in public, although it is difficult.

"Your father, the driver, couldn't come today?" one of the children mocks.

"He must have been taking the Marconetti family and they didn't give him permission," says another spoiled and hateful girl, bursting into laughter.

"My mom says that she is the daughter of a slut and that, since the lady of the house doesn't love her..." continues another little girl who is next to the attackers.

Ginevra cannot stand the taunts and walks away from everyone. She walks until she reaches the bottom of the stairs, her favorite place to hide.

She stays there until she stops hearing the voices of the little ones; then she allows herself to cry in silence. Then she dries her tears and comes out again. By that time it is already time to leave, and she goes to where they pick her up daily.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ginevra. How was your day?" the driver asks with a smile when the door closes and the car starts. He knows everything that the little girl suffers and, since he knew her mother, he doesn't like how they treat her.

"The same as always... Dad didn't come to my act," her eyes fill with tears and a knot pierces her throat. "Can you tell me why he hates me so much? I didn't ask to be born," her tender and low voice makes the man's heart crumple like paper. A pang in his chest forces him to look away so as not to continue seeing the suffering of that little angel.

"You know what? I met your mother and she said something very true," the man begins, looking through the rearview mirror.

"It doesn't matter who loves us if we do," the girl looks up and smiles.

"What was she like?" Her little eyes shine with emotion. The driver straightens up and sighs.

"She... She was intelligent, a dreamer, but she also had a very strong character..." he lets out a little laugh. "When your mother got upset, even your father ran. She had a motto:"A betrayal is never forgiven"."

Little Ginevra nods, wipes her tears and no longer feels so bad now that she has heard more about her mother.

Once they arrive at the mansion, the girl gets out happy. Even if he didn't go, she will give him her gift. She directs her steps to where she hears voices, in the living room, and runs towards her father, hugging his leg.

"Dad, Happy Father's Day. Look what I made you," she stretches out her hands with the beautiful present that she made herself.

Tiziano removes her from his body with his strong arms, and a wrinkle furrows his forehead. Just seeing her, everything churns inside him and he shouts at her:

"What dad? I'm tired of telling you that it's"Mr. Tiziano Marconetti"for you," he crumples the letter with an expression of disgust. That breaks the little girl's heart. Immediately she lowers her face and nods.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tiziano," her stepmother and half-sister laugh, and she runs to lock herself in her room, completely devastated.

Ginevra's life only gets worse with the passing years; that little doll remains her only company. Her nanny passes away when she turns fourteen, and her life becomes increasingly sad, although not everything is bad: she has the support of the driver, with whom she can at least talk.

Today was an important day at the Marconetti mansion, as her younger sister, her father's apple of his eye, Elena, was turning sixteen. No one ever remembers Ginevra's birthdays; her nanny, before dying, always secretly brought her a cake. Now only the driver remembers, giving her a bracelet on each birthday. At first, he made them himself, then he started buying them, and she has several: gold, silver... he always tries to make them different from each other.

That man has taught her a lot; he tells her about how women behave in the mafia, although she doesn't like that part, because he tells her that women are simply a deal to close or unite families and have babies, or "heirs," as they usually call them. She doesn't want that for her life: she wants to be the leader of the mafia, because by law it would be her turn as the eldest. Although she is not very sure of receiving it, because her father detests her and she cannot imagine that he would be able to give his precious mafia to her.

The young Ginevra turns around in her beautiful black dress: it is sober, short-sleeved, and with a round neckline. She doesn't need to dress in an exaggerated way to stand out; by itself, her jet-black hair and unique-colored eyes make all eyes fall on her. Her sister is very different: although her skin is as fair as hers, her hair is not; her hair is blonde like wheat, and her eyes are an intense green. She looks nothing like her, luckily. She is a little thinner, although she is almost the same height as Ginevra. She usually wears short dresses with large necklines, and her makeup should always stand out. Every time the two are in the same place, Elena tries to overshadow her older sister so that she does not shine, and as Ginevra is used to rejection, she does not give it importance.

The young woman goes out to the living room and scans with her eyes, looking for the only person she is interested in in that place: his name is Matteo Caruso. He is her father's right hand; despite being only twenty-six years old, he is calculating and one of the best shooters her father has. Or at least, she sees him as the most perfect being that has ever walked the earth.

Upon meeting those beautiful sea-green eyes, her heart accelerates, her hands begin to sweat, and she looks down so that no one notices her blush, which, as she is so fair, is easy to recognize.

The man looks at her for a moment, gets lost in her eyes, and then looks away. She shakes her head subtly so that no one notices. He would never notice me. What could he see in a person like me? she thinks.

Matteo walks away from that place until he hears his sister's shrill voice, who throws herself into his arms when she sees him. He kisses her on the forehead and puts her back on the ground. Ginevra must get out of there quickly because it is so uncomfortable for her.

She knows that Elena likes Matteo, but she will not give up: when she is old enough for that, she will try to conquer him, because she is determined that he will be the only thing that her sister will not take away from her in life.

Matteo suddenly approaches her when it is eleven o'clock at night. She begins to tremble, she feels the color drain from her face, and she doesn't know where to look.

"How are you, little one?" he says to her. "Could you give me a dance tonight?"

The young woman's mouth opens slightly, and her chest accelerates. She tries to pronounce a word, but what comes out is a distorted murmur. She smiles nervously and then breathes to be able to respond.

"Me?" she scolds herself mentally when she sounds so pathetic. "Obviously me... right... it's me you're talking to... well... yes."

He offers her his hand, and they begin to dance. This is something that two pairs of eyes cannot conceive: Eleonora has her eyes narrowed towards the dance floor, and little Elena squeezes her mother's arm, digging her nails in.

"Mom, look at that stupid girl who she's dancing with," says Elena.

Her mother smiles and pats her hand.

"Dissemble and don't make a scene. Don't worry: we'll get even with her during the week."

The little blonde smiles maliciously and, unable to bear it any longer, breaks one of the straps holding up her dress. She passes near the couple on the dance floor, trips over a waiter on purpose, and screams when a little of her chest is exposed.

"What did you do, stupid?!" she shouts, and starts to cry.

Of course, Matteo goes after her. Ginevra has no choice but to get away from there. She knew that was going to happen; in fact, it had taken too long.

When everything is over, her younger sister, along with her mother, approach her to warn her to stay away from Matteo because she is "not old enough for those things." The poor girl says nothing; simply, as always, she goes to her room to cry. She talks to her doll, asking her when the time will come when those women will pay for what they do to her.