My name is Paola Gomez. They call me "the mafia doll".

I am tall, 1.70 meters tall, white skin, blonde hair, light blue eyes; like water, thick lips, sharp nose, oval face, slender body. I don't say I have the body of a Barbie, but, nevertheless, it is very striking.

.

I am 23 years old. Only daughter of Hugo Gomez. Leader of one of the most feared cartels in all of Mexico.

I didn't choose this life of death. No, I chose to be born into a mafia family. I just wanted to be like any other girl when I was born.

Go to school, play with children my age, live with a loving mother and father. That they would teach me values ​​and guide me on the right path.

From a very young age I was educated to be in charge of governing an empire of death and drugs. I didn't understand anything, I just let myself be carried away by the education I was being given.

I didn't understand what was good or what was bad. Every day they woke me up early, I went out running and doing weight exercises. I had to maintain a good physique for the eyes of others.

My father was in charge of putting a gun in my hands, since I was 10 years old.

..."Paola, don't get distracted from your objective. See your target and shoot"...

..."You failed again!"...

..."Why the hell can't she do anything right!"...

"I'm Scared, Dad!" I said, in a trembling voice.

I was only 10 years old. My hands trembled every time I grabbed a gun. I couldn't understand what the point was in learning to shoot.

Hearing the sound of the gun made my legs tremble. I wasn't born for that. I didn't want to be a hitman, a mafia leader.

"Listen to me well, Paola. In the life of drug trafficking you cannot be weak. I don't have a sheep as a daughter, I have a shepherd as a daughter. Do you understand or not?"

My father always said: Sheep are always the weakest of the pack. Then come the wolves, those people who think they are strong, those who take advantage of the weakness of the Sheep and do what they want with them and in the end there are the shepherds.

They are those who bring order. Those who are neither Sheep nor wolves, are those who defend their own.

That hot morning I bowed my head in front of my father. I didn't want to be a Sheep, cowardly and devoured by a Wolf.

Nor did I want to be a wolf that takes advantage of the weakness of others. All I had left was to be a shepherd, take care of my own, and defend myself from the wolves.

Everything became the most common thing for me. The gifts they gave me were expensive. From a Lamborghini, jewelry, to an apartment in La Condesa, which was worth millions.

I got used to living a life of luxury. Until I turned fifteen, everything seemed wonderful to me.

I traveled everywhere. Always well escorted. Men armed to the teeth were the ones who protected me. I felt untouchable.

I went to parties where you could see all the excesses. The hosts of the parties would hire very beautiful girls.

Some of them were women who sold their services in notorious clubs and others were girls who were deprived of their freedom and sold to the cartels.

They had them working in clandestine clubs and when they were very seen and used, they took them abroad.

In the end they gave them a quick death... At one of those parties I saw one of them being murdered in cold blood.

It was so impressive that it was stuck in the depths of my mind... That night my father took me out of the party in shock.

That cruel life was what awaited me... It was my destiny. I couldn't escape even if I wanted to.

I had heard so many things, like the death of my cousin. He was murdered and his head was sent in an ice chest to my uncle.

After his death, my uncle joined my father to take revenge. They made a killing. Heads of the murderers flew off a bridge.

On many occasions I tried to rebel against my father. I went to study far away wanting to erase so much violence from my mind.

I covered my ears and mouth. I continued with my life like any other girl. I had boyfriends and friends.

But, when I came of age, my father sent me back to the country. I was at war. A new cartel entered the territories that belonged to my father.

Every day there were news stories that spoke of the cruel murders. They found dismembered bodies everywhere.

Some of them were men of his enemies and others were men of my father. I locked myself in my room for several months without wanting to know anything about what was happening.

It was crazy, where I was involved. One night while I was sleeping, my father entered my room. He was drunk, staggering from side to side.

At his side was another man whom he called "friend," his face covered by a military mask.

That pair of black eyes remained tattooed in my mind. Even when I close my eyes I remember them and I feel chills all over my body.

The man approached me, and my father turned around closing the door from the outside.

The man threw himself on top of me, covering my slender body completely. I was not going to allow myself to be raped, I fought with all my strength. I remembered that my father left a weapon under my pillow.

Never sleep without it, you don't know when you're going to need it. I put my hand under my pillow and took out the gun, without thinking for a single second, I shot the man in the head.

The shot was heard throughout the room and then everything was in total silence. My hands, like much of my body, were stained with blood.

I pushed the man's lifeless body with my feet, until he fell to the ground. At that moment, the door of the room opens, my father and several of his men enter.

The lights in the room turn on, and everyone sees me. I curl up in a corner of the bed, looking at the man's bloody body.

My father approaches the man's body and kicks him.

"You know what to do with his body. Throw it to the Lions."

For Hugo Gomez, I was only his daughter when it suited him. I learned that over the years.

When I was little, he said I was the light of his eyes, his princess, the most beautiful star in the world.

He made me feel so good, loved by him.

It was his beautiful way of manipulating my mind and making sure I never rebelled against him.

As I grew up, I became his ticket to being the King of the most important organization. I was an object of exchange for him.

That was the fate of many daughters of drug lords. If you are not fit to lead a criminal organization, you serve as an exchange to gain power.

It was painful to understand. It was disgusting, but that's how things were. Whether I liked it or not, I was born and raised as the daughter of a mobster and a woman who was a prostitute.

My mother sold her body when she was young. She dedicated herself to selling her caresses to the highest bidder. My father set his eyes on her. Physically, she was beautiful, very similar to me.

Tall, blonde, slim, with several surgeries on her body, highlighting her curves even more. She was an excellent exotic dancer.

Many powerful men were dying to have her in bed. They paid large sums of money to spend a night in her bed.

Upon meeting her, my father made her his woman. Giving her a queen's life and a respectable last name.

She never lacked anything, he always filled her with luxuries. A life she always longed to have.

She stopped working in prostitution and dedicated herself to pleasing her biggest sponsor. "My father."

When I was born, I was that valuable trophy, that unparalleled beauty. A beautiful daughter whom he could exchange for money and power. It's hard for me to understand what I meant to him.

Although, hard as it is to believe, I am just a pretty face, a beautiful body, and the sexual desire of many high-ranking men in the mafia.

"Look what you've done!" I was still in shock, over the death of the man I had killed in self-defense.

My father's shouts only frightened me more, I covered my ears, wanting to escape from all that.

I lowered my head and put it between my legs. The dead man on the rug was dragged out the door.

Everything was too shocking for me. Just breathing was a martyrdom. I could still feel my skin throbbing with nerves. The scare of being raped was greater than having killed.

"Alright. Rogelio is dead, there's nothing to be done. What's done is done."

"His mother will want to avenge the murderer. Pack your things, you're leaving for Italy tonight."

"I'll talk to a partner right now. He owes me many favors and he's going to help you hide."

Before I can react, I am pulled out of bed by force. Because of the strong push my father gives me, I lost my balance and fell on top of the pool of blood.

My hands, like my knees, were stained with the blood of the man who tried to abuse me.

That disgusting smell made me tremble. Feeling chills all over my body. It's a horrible feeling.

My mind was filled with so many ugly things. I felt so scared. I had murdered the son of I don't know who. I was mentally unbalanced.

I was like an old doll in my father's hands. He pushed me from one side to the other, and I seemed to have no life.

He put his hand on my arm and pulled me up, making me stand.

"You're stupid even for that! You haven't learned anything!"

We left the room with pushes. Outside was my mother accompanied by her faithful maid.

Upon seeing the scene in front of her, she doesn't show even a little sympathy for me. She lowered her gaze slightly and remained silent.

She sees me broken and does nothing to save me. She maintains a cold posture, as if I were not her daughter.

My father stands in front of her, his expression was that of a murderer. He releases my arm, and pushes me forward.

"Take her away, I don't want to see her." My father ordered, without any emotion in his voice.

Mom, seeing that I'm about to fall. She holds my arm tightly. She tilts her head as she sees my father pass by her side.

My tears didn't stop falling down my cheeks. It was something I couldn't control.

"Maid, go and pack a small suitcase."

The woman walks away, obeying her boss's orders.

"You're an idiot. What was it going to cost you to sleep with that man? It was just opening your legs and closing your eyes, pretending you like it and that's it."

"Now because of your stupidity you are in serious trouble. Why can't you be a little like me?!"

That was the difference between her and me. I didn't want to be like her. A prostitute, a woman who exchanges her body for a few coins.

I was born for something more, and not for something as simple as that.

She holds my arm and pushes me towards the stairs. We went down each step until we reached the lobby, in less than five minutes the maid already had two suitcases ready. They were two small luggage.

Only what was necessary to travel in an emergency. We went out to the garage. One of the vans was already ready. I didn't even know what time it was. I looked through the polarized glass, I saw three other cars behind us.

Upon arriving at a clandestine airstrip, we got out of the van. There was already a private plane to take us to the neighboring city, from there I would take a commercial flight to Italy.

The first to get out of the van was my mother.

"What are you waiting for to get out of the van? Are you stupid or what?"

I ran my hands over my cheeks, I couldn't stop crying, as I put a foot under the van, two of my father's men approached me.

"We'll see each other here." My mother was about to return to the van when one of the men said.

"You are going with her by order of the boss."

My mother's face lost all its natural color. She wasn't happy to know that she would be traveling with me to Italy.

I imagined she wanted to stay by my father's side and continue living the queen's life she leads now.

Even if she doesn't say anything, I know she blames me for what I did. She told me outside the bedroom. That it was hard for me to open my legs, close my eyes, and pretend I liked it.

For her, everything was that easy. Unfortunately, it isn't for me.

She clenched her fists tightly, cursing my father's order. Her blue eyes were fixed on the man in front of her.

They looked like two arrows assassinating the bodyguard.

"I can't go with her!" she exclaimed furiously, rebelling for the first time against one of my father's orders.

"These are Mr. Hugo's orders. Get on the plane right now," the bodyguard replied.

"Hugo's bastard son is about to be born. I can't leave and give that vixen a free path," my mother added furiously.

"What did you say, Mother?" I whispered, astonished.

Her attention turned to me.

"As you heard, dear daughter. Your father got a little girl your age pregnant. He will soon have the son he so desires."

It was to be expected, what I don't understand is why he waited so many years to look for his male son.

I can't deny that the news hit me like a bucket of cold water. With the arrival of that male child, I took a back seat.

If I had any hope left in my heart, this confirms that I am only an object of exchange.

I raised my chin proudly. I'm 23 years older than my brother. I will make everyone bow their heads before me.

I will become the woman they always wanted to see. The girl who was educated to become a complete woman. I will be more than everyone imagines.

"Let's go, Mom. The plane is waiting for us."

I turned my body around. I headed to the plane, escorted by several men.

"Paola, I can't go with you. We need to get rid of that bastard!"

I clenched my fists, turning to look at my mother. He was a baby! As innocent as I was.

Neither of us chose to be born in this pigsty. If we had known what awaited us, we would never have been born.

"Enough...!"

"Get on the plane. Don't defy your husband."

I kept walking until I got on the plane. My mother reluctantly did the same. After several hours of flight, we finally arrived in Italy.

Everything was so different from my country.

New language, new people, new beliefs. Everything would be new for me. As soon as we stepped out of the plane, we were greeted by a woman.

I didn't understand anything she was saying, I just watched her move her hands from side to side. That frustrates me, I took her hands, and said.

"Bring someone I can communicate with. I don't understand a damn thing you're saying."

The woman stares at me, releases my hands, taking a slight step back. She took out her cell phone and called, I don't know who.

They exchanged a few words, until she gave me the cell phone.

"Miss Gomez, I am your father's partner. The woman in front of you is Francesca. She has worked for me for 10 years."

"I'm glad to know that you and I speak the same language, Mr..."

"My employee says you haven't traveled alone. Who is the woman with you?"

I glanced at my mother out of the corner of my eye, and said.

"The maid. My father sent her to take care of me."

"He He, He, He." I heard a loud laugh on the other end of the line.

"You are good at telling jokes. I know well who the woman next to you is. Get in the van, my employee will bring you to the mansion."

After saying those words, he hangs up. The woman takes the cell phone from me and puts it inside her bag.

My mother and I got into another van, which is heavily escorted. Apparently my father's partner is a man of great power.

Throughout the journey, I only looked through the glass of the van window. It took about two hours to get to the mansion of my father's partner.

One of the men opens the back door of the van. My mother is the first to get out, she stretches her arms, adjusting every muscle in her body.

"Mrs. Gomez." A cold voice is heard coming from somewhere in the luxurious mansion.

She looked everywhere, without being able to see the man who spoke.

"Go to the living room. My wife is waiting for you."

The woman who picked us up at the airport, takes me by the arm and leads me inside the luxurious mansion.

"Let go of my daughter!"

"She can walk on her own." For the first time, I heard my mother interfere for me.

"Sono ordini del Boss... (These are the Boss's orders...)" the woman replied, and takes me to the living room.

Seated, like a queen, is a beautiful woman. Brown lips, tanned skin, she was dressed extremely elegantly, a classic dress, of those that I had not seen in years.

"Benvenuta... Mi chiamo Camila. Sono la moglie di Massimo."

...(Welcome... My name is Camila. I am Massimo's wife)...

I didn't understand what the hell this woman said. I see her extend her hand, and I do the same.

"My name is Paola Gomez. I have been sent from Mexico by my father."

"Paola, very beautiful name. I see that you don't understand Italian."

"I'm glad to know that you speak Spanish. That will make it easier to communicate." I expressed, releasing the woman's hand.

"Take a seat, my son will be here soon. He is the one who will take care of you." The woman took a seat, crossing her legs.

One of the maids entered leaving a cup of tea in front of us.

"Tea is served every morning before breakfast."

...Will it be lunch? I thought....

My mother takes the cup of tea and took a sip.

"Mmm, it's quite delicious. It has a different flavor. A unique flavor. Like mint, but with milk."