*Nathalia Nogueira, 18* (Nathalia — last Christmas)

Dark wavy hair, greenish eyes, plus-size. Average height, 5'5". A little naive, but a fast learner.

A devoted mafia-romance reader, Nathalia learned the hard way that real life doesn't play by the rules of fiction. Fresh out of high school and desperate for a better life, she fell for an old internet scam — discovering that when something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Thinking she'd been recruited by a plus-size modeling agency, she walked straight into the hands of traffickers who sold her to a mafioso.

But this mafioso didn't want to keep her for himself. He wanted to give her away as a Christmas present...

...

*Nathalia Nogueira, 23* (Nathalia — next Christmas)

After escaping from Cappadocia, Nathalia became a famous author.

She lost weight, cut her hair, and became the mother of little Klaus.

Known for writing about strong heroines who break free from abusive relationships, she became an icon for women everywhere.

But one fine day, she discovered that her escape wasn't the end of her own love story — and her destiny was to remain a mafioso's Christmas present.

...

*Nicolau Polat, 37.* Turkish. Tall — 6'5". Blue eyes, dark hair with a slight curl. Usually bearded. Smokes when he's on edge. Short fuse — cross him and your chances of survival drop to zero.

A man who strikes fear into everyone around him — because he lost his humanity the day his beloved Yolanda died on Christmas.

Christmas became the day Nico turned even more bloodthirsty, and to calm his fury, his allies kept gifting him girls who resembled Yolanda every year.

The fate of those girls was always cruel. Nico never truly wanted a replacement, and whenever he grew tired of the look-alikes, they were discarded.

This went on until Nathalia — the only one brave enough to scream at him: "Stop calling me Yolanda! My name is Nathalia!"

The next day, she escaped. And created a brand-new obsession in that man.

Nathalia

My best friend Fabio spent every night in my bed.

Every single day, he'd lean a ladder against my window and climb into my room after everyone was asleep. Before anyone woke up, he'd be gone.

Even though we spent every night together, I never gave him my first time.

But with one week left before high school graduation, I decided to give myself to him.

I wanted to make it special — a note confessing my feelings and telling him I'd be waiting in my room that night.

I slipped the envelope onto his desk, hoping he'd find it quickly. Instead, his friends found it first.

That's when the mocking started.

"Hey, Fabio! You seriously wanna get in bed with that fat girl?"

Fabio looked completely mortified. He glanced at me, then said:

"Of course not! Who'd wanna sleep with a girl who looks like a pig? I love Emma, and she's the one I want."

He grabbed Emma by the hand — the most popular girl in school — and kissed her right in front of me.

I was devastated. In that moment, I finally understood why he called me his "friend" and kept it a secret that he came to my bed every night to kiss me.

The mockery shifted and zeroed in on me alone.

Within hours, the entire school knew that I'd invited the football captain to have sex.

They hurled insults and threw fruit at me, calling me "pig" — a nickname Fabio himself had coined.

I went home covered in filth and bruises from the fruit that hit me.

My mother took one look, pinched her nose, and told me to go clean myself up.

My father complained that I didn't know basic personal hygiene and would never measure up to my older sister.

I went to the bathroom and stayed there for hours, crying and scrubbing the mess off my body.

I didn't leave my room for the rest of the day. I buried myself in my mafia romance novels, trying to escape the cruelty of my reality.

But even the romances started to suffocate me — something I'd never noticed before. Not a single heroine was fat like me. It was as if even the authors didn't believe a plus-size girl could be loved.

I gave up reading and curled into a ball on my bed until the early hours.

Past midnight, I heard a knock at my window.

Through the glass, I saw Fabio.

I hated him. But curiosity about whatever excuse he'd give me for today dragged me to the window to open it.

"What are you doing here? I thought I was a fat pig to you."

"Nathalia, you're way too sensitive. It was just a joke, and school's almost over. Dealing with a little bullying isn't that bad."

Not a single trace of remorse in his eyes.

"But what are you doing here? Didn't you say you love Emma?"

"Emma's my girlfriend. You're my friend. Let's not change things over this. Don't be annoying and jealous. Anyway, I'm here because you said tonight we could hook up. Let me in — I'm already excited."

"Unbelievable! You still think I'm giving you my first time? You must be insane!"

"Quit the drama, Nathalia! Keep acting like this and you'll die a virgin. I doubt anyone besides me would ever have the guts to see you naked."

I was furious.

"Fabio! You're an idiot, and for the love of God, never show your face in front of me again!"

On impulse, I shoved the ladder.

"Nathalia, help me! Nathaliaaaa—"

The ladder toppled and he went crashing down from the second floor, letting out a scream of pain that woke the entire neighborhood.

I slammed the window shut, dove into bed, and pretended to be asleep.

Minutes later, I heard ambulance sirens. The whole neighborhood had gathered around Fabio.

My bedroom door burst open and my father stormed in, furious.

"Nathalia! What did you do? Why did you push the Tavares boy off a ladder?"

I paused, realizing the sleeping act wasn't going to fly.

That's when I had an idea.

"I don't know... I didn't even know it was him. I thought it was a burglar trying to break in. Why would he bring a ladder to climb into my window in the middle of the night? If you ask me, he's a lunatic!"

My father looked thrown off. It seemed like it had just now occurred to him how strange it was for a man to climb a ladder and try to enter a girl's bedroom at two in the morning.

"You're sure you don't know anything about what happened?"

"I swear I don't! Maybe he's some pervert who wanted to peep at my sister and got the wrong window."

The second I mentioned my sister, my father stormed out of my room.

I got up and looked through the window. Three people were holding my father back while he tried to beat up Fabio, who was being loaded onto a stretcher by the paramedics.

"That kid's a pervert! He was trying to spy on my daughter! I'm calling the police, and he's going to pay for this!"

I smiled, thinking Fabio was in deep trouble now.

"Serves him right. That's what he gets for messing with me."

I couldn't wait to see how he'd explain his way out of this one.

Nathalia

The next day, Fabio's friends set a trap for me. When I opened the classroom door, a bucket of mud dumped onto my head — leaving me filthy and sporting a lump on my forehead.

I looked over at Fabio, who was right there, laughing at my misery with his friends.

I didn't let it slide.

I scooped up a handful of mud from the floor and hurled it at them.

His friends dodged, but Fabio had a broken leg. He took all of it straight to the face.

Everyone went silent. Fabio looked horrified.

Maybe he thought his sweet little friend wouldn't fight back. But I was done being humiliated and doing nothing about it.

"Nathalia! How dare you? I'm injured! I'm calling the principal to punish you!"

I walked up to him and slapped him across the face with a mud-covered hand, smearing him even more.

"Go ahead! Call the principal, and I'll tell everyone exactly why you fell off that ladder and broke your leg!"

"Tell them what? That I was trying to peep at your sister? Isn't that what you told your dad? Your sister's way better than you, Nathalia! Skinny, gorgeous, and smart. Who here wouldn't want a peek at that body?"

His friends immediately nodded along, laughing.

I froze. Fabio knew exactly how much it destroyed me to be compared to my sister.

He knew my parents had compared us my entire life — and that in the eyes of my whole family, I was the lesser one.

He was the only person I'd ever trusted enough to tell how that made me feel. He'd once promised he'd never do the same.

I turned around without a word and went home.

Once again, my parents didn't care. They just complained about the mess on my clothes.

If it had been Ruby getting bullied, I was sure they would've stormed the principal's office.

But with me, they didn't even notice I was being bullied. Or maybe they noticed and just chose not to get involved.

I showered again and went to bed early.

In a few days, I'd graduate. And then came Christmas.

I was finally escaping the high school bullying, but I'd have to face an even bigger challenge — my relatives.

Every Christmas, my family gathered at my aunt's house, and there, all I ever heard were criticisms.

Now that I'd decided to study literature in college, I'd probably be torn apart for not following in the footsteps of my brilliant sister.

"Ruby scored first place on the college entrance exams."

"Ruby's the top student in her math program, and you pick a career that doesn't even pay."

"Ruby's so beautiful and smart she'll marry someone important any day now."

"Nathalia, why can't you be more like your sister and stop being such a disappointment to your parents?"

Just imagining all the criticism headed my way made me want to disappear off the face of the earth.

I unlocked my phone and started scrolling through Instagram. Nothing but photos of girls with perfect bodies, racking up thousands of likes and compliments.

I went to the mirror, took a photo of myself in my nightgown, and posted it with the caption:

"Plus-size girls are beautiful too, you idiots! Why are only skinny girls allowed to be loved?"

It was a cry from the bottom of my heart.

I didn't consider myself lesser than those girls just because I was curvy.

But I knew the hate would come. I was used to it by now.

A notification popped up:

"@talentscout commented on your photo"

I was surprised — I hadn't expected a comment that fast. My profile wasn't even popular.

My first thought was that the flood of hate had already started.

Probably some troll leaving something nasty.

I decided to ignore it and went back to bed.

I tossed and turned for hours, my mind racing.

I couldn't stop asking myself why life had to be so unfair.

Why could someone be adored just for being thin? What about personality? What about substance?

And why did I have a flawless sister whose only purpose seemed to be making me feel even more humiliated?

Eventually I gave up on sleep and grabbed my phone again.

There they were — the haters in my comment section.

"Who do you think you are, fatso!"

"Even if you lost weight, nobody would love you."

"Stop envying other girls and shut your mouth!"

I scrolled past the hateful comments until I landed on that first one.

"@talentscout: Our agency values curvy girls like you. I sent you a DM with all the details."

I was skeptical. It was pretty random.

I opened my messages, and there it was.

"Would you like to travel to England with all expenses paid and become a successful plus-size model? We saw your profile and you're exactly what we're looking for. Reply to this message and don't miss the opportunity to become famous and very rich."

I was wary, but curiosity won out.

I replied with a quick "Hi" and got an immediate response.

The person on the other end started sending me photos of other curvy girls who'd gone to England to work with them.

They were all plus-size like me, wearing designer clothes and posing next to sports cars.

It looked like a dream.

Better yet, it looked like the perfect chance to escape my family's relentless criticism — and prove to Fabio and everyone who'd bullied me that I was successful and they were nothing but losers.

"@nathalia: I'm interested in your offer. How do I get hired?"