Chapter 1
I look over to my dad; he’s with his new girlfriend, who looks like a supermodel, the one that he introduced to us when I was thirteen, was the first in an endless line of new conquests for Salvatore Mancini; none last more than six months anyway.
Mom smiles like it’s the happiest moment in her life, exchanging laughs with Grannie Daisy.
Meanwhile, my brothers are distracted by their own friends and new amorous conquests.
I look ahead and notice both of my best friends standing still, giving me the side eye, fully aware that this would be the last place I would like to be at today.
Surrounded by people I barely know, indifferent or just don’t like me, even though my mom refuses to believe, her perfect little princess is hated by some.
I wasn’t exactly an angel like you would assume by my looks, during my school years, my motto was always, hurt before getting hurt, leave before being abandoned.
I can say that I’ve left a trace in my way.
Everyone around me looks incredibly happy, and I ask myself if I’m the only one that feels misplaced and alone, even with hundreds of people around me.
Sometimes, I would like to disappear or be someone else.
“Blow the candles, honey!” I hear my grandmother’s voice in automatic command; I squeeze my eyes shut and wish with all my heart to be happy than ever without restrictions.
I open my eyes, and I’m faced with a three-layer cake well decorated in a light pink with gold details, probably prepared by a cake shop that charged more than one minimum wage.
The sound of the fireworks becomes loud from outside.
I look at the XV-century clock that decorates the wall.
It’s two minutes past midnight. I’m officially an adult, my own woman.
Nothing really changed. I’m a Mancini. I have responsibilities.
Nothing will ever change, no matter how old I am.
I feel a tight hug; I smile, recognizing the perfume and hugging him back. Even though my brother Lorenzo is behind me, my middle brother Vincenzo approaches me and also hugs me, making me feel stuck between my older brothers, and in that moment, I’m happy and loved.
“I can’t wait for you to see the gift we bought for you!
” Vincenzo does his distinctive look and raises his eyebrows, showing his excitement.
Lorenzo simply smiles and gives me a sign to follow him.
I follow my brothers to the office that used to be used by my grandfather.
On the table, I can see a wooden box decked out in gold and gemstones.
I smile to both, knowing already the surprise that I was going to find inside.
I rush toward the box and carefully opened it, finding a “Memory of Azov,” one of the most beautiful pieces created by Peter Carl Fabergé.
I look at the perfect Fabergé egg, and my eyes fill with tears.
I open the egg mindfully to check the surprise inside and admire the little ship that’s placed there.
For many years, I imagine vanishing in that ship, vanishing far away, maybe to another era.
I look over to my brothers, who are leaning toward the office door, crossing their arms with delicate smiles, and I run toward them andhug them tightly, making them hug me back.
I don’t need to say a word; they know I love them.
Around when I was thirteen years old, I developed a weird obsession for the Romanov family.
Maybe because those princesses looked as lonely as me, I don’t know.
But in that same year, I got my first Fabergé egg, and since then, it has become an obsession.
I’m in love with them, particularly that one.
“Okay, time to give your attention to the guests; let’s go, Chiara.
From now on, you can admire your egg for the rest of your life.
” Lorenzo gives me a stern look that I know I can break in seconds but choose not to.
He’s right. I leave the office smiling, hand in hand, with my two favorite people, actually happy.
I watch my dad and his new girlfriend coming toward me with a stern look like he was about to tell me off without saying a single word.
He does this a lot. Gives me a slight signal with his head to follow him to the mansion’s main door.
I notice that most of the guests are following us; it couldn’t be any other way.
He never misses an opportunity to show off his wealth or that he’s a good dad, which clearly is not the reality.
At least since the moment he left through that same door with his bags, he never came back with them.
The door opens so I can go before him. He offers me a smile that I cannot read, and as soon as I look ahead, I immediately realized that it was a question of pride.
A red Ferrari F90 Stradale was right in front of me, wrapped with a gigantic red bow, signaling loudly my birthday present.
I glance over at my dad, and he’s smiling back at me with raised eyebrows like he’s waiting for a reaction.
I simply smile back and assert with my head, making all the guests applaud.
I focus on my new Ferrari , undeniably beautiful but not a gift I would give to someone that barely knows how to drive.
I think maybe his gift is an attempt to compensate for his absence, and then I remember all the people around me, and I realize that it was all about appearances.
It’s always about looking good. He would never be like my brothers, mom, or Grannie Daisy, who gave me their presents in private.
He always wants to show off; it’s like my approval is never enough.
I take my hand to my pearl necklace around my neck, a gift from Grannie Daisy.
She offered it to me minutes before the party started and said that I’m a woman now, and any woman deserves to have her own pearls.
The necklace came in a set with earrings and a bracelet, exactly what I thought I was going to get from her.
I look at my new white gold ring, with a big dark diamond in the center and small clear and gleaming diamonds around it, a gift from mom that was gifted to her by her mother when she turned eighteen years old.
It seems too much, a real family heirloom, and now it’s mine.
He was given to me two days before my birthday after having a little panic attack where I shouted I didn’t want a party.
My mom told me that being an adult comes with responsibilities, and this was mine.
The ring was left on my nightstand while I was asleep, and I only saw it the next morning, knowing it was time to grow up.
Everybody appears ecstatic when I look around; the fireworks are still loud in the back, as well as the popping up of excessively expensive champagne bottles.
At the entrance, there’s a big table filled with countless birthday present boxes that’ll take days to open, thanks to my unwillingness to write thank you cards.
I stare at all the smiling faces surrounding me and notice that few are significant in my life.
Dad is close to his girlfriend, talking to some clients and investors, probably taking advantage of my birthday to celebrate some deal.
Mom is with her long-term best friend, drinking champagne and laughing out loud, probably a bit drunk.
Grannie is talking to the owner of a mine of emeralds, maybe trying to figure out if these stones are enough for the family’s brand.
My brothers are enjoying themselves surrounded by women, probably trying to decide which one will accompany them at the end of the night.
Then I notice myself, the birthday girl, standing between the small tables with cocktails scattered through the room, alone, without a purpose, no one to entertain, abandoned.
I search for my best friends and can’t find them anywhere.
I slowly walk through the room, smiling occasionally at any guest that notices my presence.
I continue to the lower floor. The access door is locked.
I bang on the stone, knowing it’s fake, and open the small compartment where the key is.
I look around and see no one close, so I quickly open the door, locking it behind me.
I go down the stairs toward the game room, passing by it, entering the movie theatre, no one is there.
I smile and head to the door that gives access to the indoor pool.
I enter without making a sound and watch my two best friends with long dresses curled up to their knees, with their legs in the heated pool, both with glasses of champagne in their hands and two bottles sitting next to them, and observe an unused glass next to the bottles and know they thought of me.
I close the door behind me and finally gain the attention of the two people in the room, both smiling in my direction and making a gesture for me to approach them.
I return the smile, opposite to the ones that I was sharing throughout the night.
I raise my dress and remove my heels, throwing them anywhere without paying much attention.
As soon as I start getting close, they detach and form a tiny space for me to seat in their middle.
While sitting, the two hugged me, wishing me a happy birthday, whispering in unison so close to my ears that makes me tremble.
“I thought you weren’t showing up!” says Leticia, unbothered, while Aurora shakes her head in a weird way, making me think she might off drunk too much champagne already.
“I had to greet the guests. Besides, it’s not like I can simply vanish from my own birthday party!” I said.
“The birthday party that you didn’t ask for,” says Aurora in a jumble while standing up, waving her glass like she was doing a clumsy toast, making me and Leticia laugh.