I Was The Mafia’s Maid Now I’m Their Regret Chapter 23
A week later, Francesca came to the school again.
This time she didn’t bring a guard, and she wasn’t wearing an expensive, limited-edition dress.
All she had was an old phone.
“Mom used to film videos with this.”
“After the service ledger review started, she went back and watched everything.”
Francesca opened the first video.
It was that day when I was six.
She was holding Nico while Mom stood nearby, smiling and encouraging her.
In the background, I was standing on a little stool, my head lowered, washing a basin full of baby clothes.
In the second video, Nico was bringing coffee to the guards for the first time.
He dropped a cup, and it shattered. Everyone rushed over to ask if he’d cut his hand.
The camera shook, and there I was, crouched on the floor, picking up the broken pieces.
Then came Francesca plating a Family dinner for the first time.
She dropped several plates, and Mom was laughing.
From the edge of the frame, I walked in silently, replaced the soiled rug, and set the table again.
I had seen all these videos before.
Back then, I had always been searching to see if anyone had caught me in the frame.
Only now did I realize I didn’t need to look.
I had always been there.
The person holding the camera had simply never turned it toward me.
“Mom said she used to only see us,” Francesca said quietly.
“Now that she’s watching again, you’re in every single video.”
I pushed the phone back toward her.
“That still doesn’t make it my childhood photo album.”
“It’s obvious from those videos who the camera was pointed at. It’s obvious who you were all looking at.”
Her eyes reddened.
“I know.”
“I’m not here to ask you to forgive me.”
She took a key out of her pocket.
“The dance studio has been cleared out. This is the key to your old room.”
I didn’t take it.
“Francesca, I’m not going back to live there.”
“Giving the room back doesn’t give me back the years I was pushed into that little room.”
Her fingers tightened around the key.
“Then what can I do?”
“Start by handling your own responsibilities.”
I looked at her.
“In the future, don’t hand off what you should be carrying to someone else. If there’s a performance you want, compete for it yourself. Don’t have Dad ask the consigliere to put in a word for you.”
She was silent for a long time, then nodded.
Just before she left, she suddenly called my name.
“Cosima.”
“The two thousand dollars—no matter where it really went, I shouldn’t have stood there and watched them search your room.”
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t say it was okay.
“I heard you.”
That was all I could give her.