Episode 1

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.

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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."

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