New Beginnings

 I always believed that walking through the streets of Paris was a kind of undeniable magic for the hearts most hardened by past hurts and that at each step a look would cross with yours, reminding you of the best feelings that could exist in your memories, no matter how distant they might be, they would still be reborn, then make you believe in a new beginning of happiness. However, I keep walking for more than two hours and everyone is hurrying and locked in their worlds. I am the only one looking out, because looking in means that it has been almost a year since she was taken from me. And not even the light of the Eiffel Tower with all its splendor can give me back the hope that everyone says they feel when they see it shining. It may be that my heart doesn't know how to contemplate so much peace, barred by my blood, where the legacy of anger, power, and revenge runs...

“ A coffee, s'il vous plaît!”, I ask, finding in a small terrace the perfect place for a rest. And from the expression of naturalness with which she fulfills my request, I can smile satisfied with my accomplished pronunciation.

The last few months have been dedicated to perfecting the language. Staying dependent on Amelia is not an option. There will be no progress on my daughter's clues, not until I give her the power she so desperately desires. 

Poor thing, should I warn her that death is the price to pay?  

“No... Let it be a surprise from your dear Chloé..." I joke to myself, still looking at the fake document she had arranged for me. But soon my thoughts give way to more serious questions,” What would you like to wear, Chloé? Or be?”, I drum my fingers on the table impatiently as well as my mind, and before long my eyes meet a group of young people, in which the oldest would probably be 23 years old.

The coffee arrives, but there is no time to drink it.

“ Merci!” 

 I leave a note on the table and follow their tracks. They are distracted enough not to touch the sound of my heel.  They laugh loudly and smoke, accompanied by vulgar conversation that in my eyes is the key to the forbidden door that finally opens from my gilded cage.  The best private teachers, the best trips, the best clothes were nothing more than an investment to build a caricature of me that would one day serve business, that would always manage to bend the most stubborn of men, but that would be easily lost in a conversation among their peers, because I was denied the freedom to sit on a bench in a square on any given day among friends, without the fear of an enemy bullet being my next companion.

The shopping mall is our arrival point, and it is not long before the boys feel lost from the girls, who move quickly through the shop windows, forcing them to give up this race and opt for a more attractive distraction while they go shopping. I feel old when I see the chosen store. Although we are the same age, I would never in my dreams imagine myself wearing T-shirts with prints about movies and series that I don't have time to watch or sneakers that would be more comfortable for walking and running.  Not that it was necessary, there were always cars at my disposal and my steps are naturally calm, even to deliver death to enemies. However, that was Francisca.  Chloé would grow up from scratch and along with it a chance to experience everything that had been denied me until now...

“ Do you want anything?”

“I'll take these pieces here and those shoes there and anything else they decide to take. It is for a younger sister, but I don't understand much about this fashion”,  I comment with a gentle smile that an old lady would sketch after criticizing the new times.

“ I see, high fashion Italy, right?”, She murmurs after her eyes analyze my clothes and shoes.

I cross my arms instinctively, as if this could hide my identity. If I once doubted that clothes could tell so much about who we are, right now I am completely sure.

“I worked in a haute couture store before I came to work here. It's quite famous, it's called Ar…”

I interrupted her.

“ Pardon! Would you mind fixing them for me? I'm in a bit of a hurry…”, My "compasses" have already slipped out of the store and I can't lose sight of my imaginary friends.

She nodded, and her agile movements in putting away each item and shoe with perfection actually confirmed her version of having had a better fate as a saleswoman. 

What would she have been up to? 

Neither is relevant to me at this point, although a feeling flickers in my heart that what she would say next would be something familiar to me.

The next destination was a beauty salon, decided by them in conjunction with the justification that having an updated haircut is just as important as wearing the latest thing photographed on a pop star's body.

Almost all of them chose lights and radical hairstyles that would be perfect for Chloé if I still didn't need at certain times to frequent environments where discretion is the watchword. So I opted to continue with my medium and dark strands, although the hairdresser suggested giving a touch of autumn brown as well as my eyes to some locks. But I denied it. The dark matched the wavy hair, which in turn matched in perfect harmony with my chocolate sculpted skin and my slightly pink lips. And after a flat iron, I tied it all up into a clumsy bun, purposely leaving a few strands loose to give me a young girl's fucked-up look.

My playtime has come to an end and I say goodbye in silence to my "helpers" who continue their gossip without realizing who enters or leaves the space, much less that they have been followed all this time.  And at this point I understand why being a Calderone I would never be an ordinary woman....

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“Francisca? I thought I got the wrong room…”, Amelia's voice couldn't hide her surprise when she saw me in a t-shirt and jeans, lying on the bed, eating brigadeiro while watching a series on TV.

“ Do you like it?”, I tease her, silently hoping that my new look would be enough of a reason for her to have a little instability about the fragile certainty that I am not her hostage as I appear to be all these months.

“ I confess I am surprised…”, She closes the door and places the key card I gave her on the sideboard in the entryway.

 Her arms are crossed in front of her body and her clear eyes intensify like two torches of fire ready to burn me.

“I know you've spent a long time in that hotel room, with no news of your daughter, and I can't imagine how frustrating it can be. But, it was the best thing to do until everything calmed down and it was safe to carry on with our plans...

I start laughing at the " safe" and it takes me a few seconds to pull myself together.

“ Amelia, Amelia…”, I get up from the bed to face her better and as it started to be usual, her blond strands are perfectly aligned, possibly after having gone through one of the best salons in Paris, almost turning her into a decorative element of this luxury hotel room where gold tones predominate, “ In this business, nothing is safe. That time was just for me to manage my emotions and prepare myself for my new role”

“ Just try not to take him too seriously. I need Francisca for business…”, She warns.

“ Do you speak from experience?”,I let my suspicions slip.

“ What do you mean?”, She pretends not to know what it's about.

I reach into a bag hidden behind an armchair and reveal a wine-colored satin dress. Although the fabric doesn't have the same fall of silk because it is a replica bought in a cheap store, it still has a lighter, slip and subtle sheen.

“ That was exactly the dress you were wearing the night I met you. It's very funny, because during all those months, you started to wear better clothes. Either you have more money than you pretend not to have in order to exploit me and thus get more and more; or, you have made some very interesting friends after your arrival in Sicily and your return to Paris”

“Neither one thing, nor the other! “, She undoes the knot in her arms and goes to the mini bar in search of something to drink, avoiding me to stare at her.  

“Do you remember the night we met? Your husband knew that I am one of the biggest event planners in Paris. However, I also know that he, like other businessmen, invites me to work hoping to get information about competitors or enemies. So, I tried to look as simple as I could to be credible to my naivety about what he might try to get out of me…”, She pauses,  I am unsure if it is to pour herself a whiskey or to better elaborate her next excuse, “And as for my new dresses, I am dating a businessman and I am trying to impress him. He is a bit of a perfectionist... But any questions?”

“ No, enjoy your drink, dear Amelia. I'm going to the bathroom”, I leave the dress on the bed and turn to my left, still feeling the weight of his gaze on my back until my silhouette disappears. I pass through the endless corridors destined to store clothes, shoes and accessories. While for me, it is only a necessary and strategic space for me to gain time to run, hide, or shoot. However, in this moment it serves to distract me and give voice to my intuition. Something tells me she is lying and my memories about the night we met also align with this idea....

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Sicily, Italy, two years ago

Families always gather around the table. Even the most unusual ones like ours was. Mafia elements connected not by blood ties, but by loyalty and deep down by a deep desire to be the masters of destiny. However, that night, we would have a guest and for some reason, I should be the last to know...

“ Who is this woman you invited to dinner?”, My eyes follow Anthony's reflection in the mirror as I put on the last touches of my make-up.

" I can never hide anything from you, not even a surprise..."

,what was meant to be a friendly excuse, comes out of his mouth with a slight hint of wounded pride.

Anthony was nothing more than a son of one of our winemakers who saw his luck turn when his father passed away and mine saw fit to embrace him to teach him the trades of the business. Like most, he managed to keep a low profile, maintaining the rule of silence as he busied himself with ordinary work, keeping suspicion away from our real roles in our peaceful region.

 Having been at my father's side for years gave him enough credit to be elected to the position of Head of the family by the vote of all the members.  However, it never seemed to be enough, awakening in me the vague impression that, his need for self-affirmation would still make him take decisions that would forever break our fragile peace...  

" A man of honor has an obligation to tell the truth, that's the rule, Anthony", His eyes were locked by mine through the mirror for a few moments.

 “You are right, madonna…” A very peaceful answer to my expectations. However, when I saw him get up and walk over to me, the certainty of a turnaround became closer.

“ But I learned from your father that rules are made to be broken. For example…”, He pretended to think as his hands reached for my shoulders and rubbed against my skin as if it were a crystal ball that would reveal the answers he so desired, then continued:

“ When his sister ran away and he didn't move enough to repair the enormous damage it was to his honor. Or, when he never touched the names of the great enemies of the past and just when he was about to die, he whispered: Paris, Paris…” 

I swallowed dryly although I disguised it with a sympathetic smile drawn in my reflection. 

 My daddy didn't lie when he swore he didn't know where my sister Lorena had run off to. It's not that there were no means to find out, but doing so would mean having to deal probably with the fact that a family member had chosen a form of justice so different from ours. And that would not only remove my father from his position as head but from the organization as well. 

“ So madonna, learn that men of honor may not tell the truth when they are in conflict with each other, when they want to cheat, or when their bosses wish to keep some secret…”, He finished with a sarcastic smile and anyone could assume that his words were just some kind of joke.

 The truth is that he couldn't compare my family's losses with his desire to ride roughshod over the group's own welfare just to prove himself worthy of the position he holds. He didn't understand that, it was extremely abiding by the rules that would make him admirable and only in extreme cases would one understand a breach. However, vanity is a weakness that haunts even the best of men. 

Luckily, I was the only one to witness my Papa's last wish. It would be madness to risk the safety of the organization only to kill a man surrounded by spotlights that would likely turn on us. 

 “Are you going to fuck her to get what you wish for?”, escaped my mouth intentionally like a surprise sting from a bee, which caused his large hands calloused by the years of hard work of his youth to suddenly pull away from my delicate skin, grasping his black strands that refused to line up even with gel. Thick strands that matched perfectly with his beard and his eyes as dark as two buttons on any jacket. He was an attractive and handsome man, however, he would not be my choice if I had the right one.

“ I would never betray the person with whom I share my bed, Francisca…”, he gives his word.

“ You just said that honor doesn't matter…”, I turn my body so that my eyes confront his with no optical illusions between us.

“ Everything I do is to have your admiration, your love…”, He justifies himself.

Love, the second weakness, gentlemen, perhaps the most dangerous.

“ Loyalty is enough for us, Anthony! We have a deal, it's all business, sex and a marriage of convenience”

“ Don't you like me?”, He takes a step towards me and I know that this is the moment I should disappear. His sentimentality in control can be more devastating than his self-centeredness.

“ Understand that even I don't like what I have become. I wait for you in the living room with the guests", I confess coldly, then walk away.

I closed the door, passed through the corridors, and as I descended the main staircase, I found the enormous room filled with men, some with company and others not so much. I didn't expect my dress with a beautiful V-neckline to elicit a glance or a sigh. Because the wives of allies should not even be looked at, nor should their daughters and sisters. So it was the only single woman of the evening who stole the scene, whether it was curiosity about her identity or her beauty and attributes perfectly fitted by a more economical dress compared to mine. 

“ Amelia, that's her name…”, whispered Luigi discreetly as he handed me a glass of wine. - She is a famous organizer of events in the Parisian elite. 

Anthony is not an idiot. He knew that to belong to my father's circle, whether for loyalty or enmity, power and influence were strong leads to follow. And I couldn't bear to imagine the moment he would discover the real reason that fueled the rivalry between the Arnaults and the Calderones.

He would be overcome by madness...

“ Pleasure, Amelia!”, she came forward and I didn't even notice her approach. My thoughts stole my attention for a few severe seconds.

“ Pleasure, Francisca!", I motioned to the waiter to bring her a glass as well. 

Her gaze was lost. I wouldn't risk saying that she knew anything concrete about everyone at the dinner. But, I didn't underestimate her, after all, if Anthony saw a way in her, I should do the same. Whether it was a good or bad bet, only in time would I come to find out....