The day of enrollment arrived.

I stood silently assessing the place, basically a prep school for the Mafia.

They said getting into the Academy was harder than passing through the pearly gates.

Early in the morning, luxury cars lined up for miles. Everyone stepping out reeked of money and power.

I stood there in jeans faded to white, surrounded by young lords and ladies in bespoke suits. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

But I had the coin.

When the instructor saw the gold coin, the sneer on his face turned into pure terror.

He didn't ask a single question. He saluted me with respect and waved me through.

That afternoon, cleaned up and dressed, I followed the teacher into the training grounds.

Not far away stood Luca, dressed in a white suit.

He didn't look like a bum anymore. Only his smile betrayed the shy boy he used to be.

And on his arm was Sofia.

The legendary daughter of the Godfather.

"This is my new bodyguard, Luca," Sofia introduced him to the crowd, smiling sweetly like a doll. "And my future husband."

Luca straightened his back, basking in the attention.

Until his eyes swept over the corner and landed on me.

In that instant, his gaze turned venomous, like a snake baring its fangs.

Then Sofia spotted me and ran over enthusiastically.

"Hi! Are you in the marksman class too? I'm Sofia. You have such cool eyes!"

Luca followed close behind, shooting me a warning glare.

"Sofia, don't talk to people like her," he lowered his voice. "She looks like she just crawled out of the gutter."

I watched him act, keeping my face cold. I didn't expose him.

"Quiet!" The instructor's roar ended the scene. "Everyone to the range! Except you, Elena."

The instructor pointed at me, wearing that look reserved for the lower class.

"The Academy doesn't feed freeloaders. Your tuition was covered by special privilege, so you need to work."

"Go. You have until tonight to clean the 'Hall of Legacy'."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

I stood tall, face calm.

"Understood, sir."

I knew exactly what that place was. It housed the files of every legendary killer in the Family's history.

Late at night, the Hall was dead silent.

I mechanically wiped down the glass cases, each displaying weapons that had once been bathed in blood.

Until I reached a cabinet in the deepest part of the room.

It was covered by a heavy black cloth, as if hiding a disgrace.

Compelled by something I couldn't name, I pulled the cloth off.

Dust filled the air, making me cough.

When it settled, I saw it.

Inside the glass case lay a pair of custom M1911 pistols, the grips carved with intricate rose patterns.

And next to the guns stood a yellowing photograph.

The woman in the photo wore a black trench coat, holding two guns, her eyes as cold as arctic ice.

Most importantly... that face was a mirror image of mine.

I stood frozen. I ignored the instructor's voice shouting from the doorway: "Are you done yet? Lights out!"

My fingers trembled as I traced the cold glass, my eyes dropping to the nameplate below.

Written in red, marking the Family's highest-level warrant—

"Most Wanted Traitor:?Natalia Volkov."

That was... my mother.