It was exactly two hours later, and Lena stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection.
She wasn't dressed in some heavy party gown or a white wedding gown; that made her sigh in great relief.
Lena was dressed in an above-the-knee blue, handless gown; she also wore expensive jewellery with her hair held in a bun.
“Here, ma’am.” A maid walked in with a glass of juice, and Lena appreciated it.
“Can I know how you got the courage to apply for a job as a maid under a mafia?” Lena was so curious; weren't these ladies scared of working for a mafia?
“That’s the thing; we don’t have a choice. These men own us,” the maid explained with a painful smile, and Lena was confused.
“You are American, so how come an Italian man owns you?” asked Lena.
“It doesn’t matter what I am; this life is c
