CHIARA
I found Marina already done with her work. I put on comfortable shoes and asked her to show me around.
She suggested taking a car, but I demanded to walk on foot instead. After a few-minute trek past the stables, the sound of a helicopter that had been faint became clearer to my ears and vision. Yes. There was a fucking helipad! A black helicopter with a big letter C design on the door, showcasing the dominant name in the history of business, was geared up to go. I looked past it, and there were three more reserved helicopters. I pushed the hair from my face and mouth.
Then a car pulled over before a small figure stepped out. Her pinned-back hair and uniform danced wildly in the wind as a bodyguard escorted her. Apparently, Celia was heading back and forth to an elite school in Milan with her own helicopter. Ah, these people were filthy rich.
We came across five-story twin buildings, standing side by side, each with the same design. "These are the maids' and bodyguards' quarters. Each family or even an individual has their own residence. That's my home over there," She explained and pointed at the second story of one of the buildings.
"There must be a lot of workers then," I said, taking in the flats. "You bet. Each person here has their duties, and negligence or laziness is not tolerated. Unless you have a solid reason to back you up. Or else Gabi will eat you alive." She said, "And Gabi is who?" I asked. "The Chief Stewardess of the Conti household and… well, my mother. God, that woman is so discipline-loving." She uttered.
"How old are you, Marina?" I asked, as we made our way past the residence, and came to a Conti mansion's driveway. I was sweating and thirsty. Maybe we should've taken a car.
"I'm twenty," she showed me with her hands, then picked up a fallen branch of flowers from the crape myrtle, swinging it like a sword. "And are you done with school?" She looked so young and full of energy. "Oh, I dropped out. And don't think that it was because I was pressured to become a maid instead. I just… didn't have the brain for school. Mama was so mad at me, but Madam Francesca found something else for me to do." She said, taking out her phone from her uniform skirt, tapping a few times, and then showed it to me.
"Here. I knit swimwear and sell it on the internet. Madam paid for my tuition fees throughout the course and then gave me a capital. Now I have my own small business, making my own money. I'm eternally grateful to her. Because she showed me the way and never let go of my hand. Even when my own mother thought otherwise. Oh, but we're on good terms now." I swiped the phone, looking at the different designs of crochet swimwear. It was a work of art. "These are masterpieces, Marina. I'll need you to show them to me later." I gave her the phone back. "Really? Okay, Madam." She grinned, placing it back. It was a normal thing to run into rich people. But meeting with rich and kind people at the same time?
A loud, shrill sound came, and we both stared at each other with widened eyes before running to the source of it. We halted before the Contis lawn, several people were already there, so we moved closer to the front. A man in his forties was on his knees, blood dripping on the corner of his mouth while he sobbed. Then, a teenage girl who had a shawl covering her was hugged by an older woman as she cried profusely in her embrace. Francesca stood with a big frown on her face, but it was the man with a gun in his hand who dominated the place. Junior's face was so dark that he was almost unrecognizable. "Bring him over here," he ordered, the words and his tone carried so much threat and authority. Because this wasn't Junior, this was the young Mafia lord.