The Royal Agreement

Chapter Three

As I walked home, I noticed a parade of cars lined up in front of the house. Not just any cars—these were sleek, polished, and definitely out of place in our neighborhood. I slowed my pace, eyeing them warily.

Who in the world was visiting us? Loan sharks? No, these cars looked too fancy for that. My parents weren’t the type to dabble in anything shady, but still, I approached the house with caution.

I was still debating with myself about what kind of people those cars were carrying. They looked like the kind of cars important people—like VVIPs—would use, but who knows? It’s not like we get visitors like that often.

My mind wandered to my family’s financial situation. I mean, we’re comfortable, I guess, but I’ve never really given it much thought. I won’t even question it because we’re pretty well off and they give me beyond the bare minimum, please.

Dad works for an Italian company, and he’s always busy with his job. He mentioned once that he’s an operations director or something like that, but honestly, don’t ask me for details. I’m a Science kid, not a business guru.

Dad’s job seems to keep him pretty occupied, though. He’s always on the phone, discussing logistics, production schedules, or whatever it is that operations directors do.

He travels a lot too, hopping between Italy and other countries for meetings or to check on the company’s various projects. It sounds important, but to me, it’s just Dad’s job—one of those grown-up things that I never really tried to understand.

And then there’s Mom. She’s, well… Mom. On the surface, she’s a housewife—always at home, making sure everything runs smoothly, from breakfast in the morning to dinner at night. But she’s not just any housewife. She’s got this other role, too.

Mom works for the Italian Embassy, doing what she calls “remote work” from home. Sometimes, she’ll disappear for a few hours or even a day, handling some kind of embassy business. She doesn’t talk about it much, and honestly, I’ve never asked. It’s just something she does, and then she comes back, slipping into her usual routine like nothing happened.

Most of the time, though, she’s home, making the house feel… well, like a home. It’s kind of amazing how she juggles everything—her work, the house, and making sure Dad and I don’t completely fall apart.

Before I marched inside, still puzzling over those fancy cars, I heard laughter coming from inside. I pressed my lips together, curiosity getting the better of me, and then slowly walked toward the source of the sound.

I stepped inside, half-expecting to hear hushed voices discussing something sinister, but instead, I was met with the sound of laughter—loud, joyous, and completely at odds with the tension I’d been building up in my head. I paused in the entryway, torn between curiosity and a desire to make a quick retreat to my room.

The laughter was coming from the living room to my left. The stairs straight ahead beckoned me, promising a safe escape, but just as I was about to tiptoe my way up, Dad’s voice called out.

“Ciella, there you are! Welcome home, stellina! Come say hello to our guest.”

I turned my head to the left and froze. Sitting on our couch was a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a painting—a very expensive, historical painting. She was older, probably around the sixties to seventies but she carried herself with a grace that made her seem timeless.

You could imagine Julie Andrews in The Princess Diaries. That might ring a bell.

Her blue velvet dress shimmered under the living room lights, and she had a pair of white gloves resting on her lap, with a pearly white purse placed carefully beside her. Everything about her screamed elegance and authority like she was someone who was used to being at the top—like the royalty I’d only seen on TV.

I’m just praying to the gods that she’s not here to tell me that I’m a Princess.

“Come here, stellina,” Dad urged his tone a mix of pride and expectation.

I awkwardly shuffled into the living room, stopping right in the middle of Mom and Dad. The woman’s eyes, a warm, welcoming sky blue, locked onto mine. They sparkled with a kind of familiarity that made my stomach flutter with nerves. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, the kind that made you feel like you were already loved, even if you’d just met her.

“Uhm… good afternoon,” I managed to squeak out. “I’m Cie—”

“Oh dear,” she interrupted, her voice smooth and rich like she was used to being in charge. Her accent is thicker and bolder than British but you can hear British there. “I know who you are very well. You’re probably wondering who I am.”

I nodded and gave her a sheepish smile.

“I’m Victoria, your parents are very close friends of our family.”

Before I could fully process that, I found myself almost tripping over my own feet to shake her hand and give the traditional kiss on both cheeks that our family was accustomed to.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.

“And how old are you now, Ciella?” she asked, her gaze kind and curious.

“I’m almost twenty-one,” I replied, feeling a little self-conscious under her scrutiny.

“Ah… how much you have grown indeed,” she mused, a hint of something playful in her tone. “My grandson’s just a bit older than you. You should meet him. I have a feeling that the two of you might get along very well.”

“Uh… sure,” I said. However, I couldn’t help but think that sounded like one of those setups that never ended well in movies.

I shuffled back to stand between Mom and Dad, feeling more out of place than ever. This was one of those situations that I desperately wanted to escape from, and fast. I leaned down towards Mom, hoping she’d read the desperation in my eyes.

“I need to do homework now, Mom,” I whispered, praying for an easy out.

“Oh, stellina, can’t you stay a little longer?” she asked, her voice soft and pleading.

I hesitated, but the thought of sitting through a more awkward conversation was unbearable. “Uhm, I have this feeling it would be very awkward. Can I leave now?” I whispered back, giving her my best “let me go” look.

She smiled sadly but then she nodded, understanding my plight, and I quickly tapped Dad’s shoulder in goodbye. As I turned to head up the stairs, I nodded politely to Victoria. Just as I reached the first step, their conversation resumed, and I couldn’t help but catch a few more words.

“It was really a good decision to visit you, Gabbi, Cris,” Victoria said, her voice full of warmth. “After so many years, Ciella is a sight—a beautiful, blooming young lady. She’s grown up so fast. Very gorgeous, she is.”

Mom giggled softly. “But how about Victor? He’s here, right?”

“Oh, yes. He transferred schools. He wanted to see how…”

I suddenly realized I was eavesdropping—something I’d been taught was very impolite. I bolted up the stairs and into my room, where I dumped my bag on “the chair” and threw myself onto my bed, letting out a long breath. My excuse had been homework, but in reality, I had none. I’d finished it all during my free period at school.

Reaching for my phone, I noticed a message from Victor, but not the same Victor I’d just overheard them talking about downstairs. This was the transfer student from earlier. He had taken my number earlier because, as it turned out, he was going to be my lab partner. Not just for the semester—no, apparently for the entire year.

I’m here at the supplies shop to buy my share. Want me to pick up anything for you?

I replied almost instantly: Oh, nah, I’m good. Dad’s gonna cover mine.

Sure. Talk to you later then.

I tossed my phone beside me and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, playing the counting game I used to do when I was little. There wasn’t much on my mind—I felt oddly drained from the day, and the promise of a lazy Friday evening with no school tomorrow was starting to sound better by the second.

It wasn’t long before my thoughts drifted off and I fell into a peaceful slumber, the day’s events fading away like a distant dream.