Lombardi family possesses everything they want - money, recognition, success, business. The only thing lacking for these people is happiness. Because when the reckoning for past sins ominously knocks on the door, you begin to appreciate things that...
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My family became wealthy thanks to their natural tenacity and inclination towards entrepreneurial endeavors - that was the official version that everyone, fortunately, believed. The Lombardis indeed owned the "Tempora" network of elite watch stores for several generations, and even publish a thematic magazine. But my ancestors earned the money for this very business in a not too legal and conscientious manner. I'll get back to that later and tell you more about it in detail because right now we're talking about something completely different.
But even the brightest medal has its dark side.
I never really knew what my closest people were up to - just a few words, but never delved into the details. My family didn't live together - yes, we lived under the same roof and shared a common courtyard, garage, pets, and finances. But to each other, we were still strangers, and from an early age, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing in life. It's like a puzzle where one small piece is missing to complete the whole picture.
They knew how to be rich, to be successful, to be perfect. But they didn't know one thing - how to be happy. In pursuit of elusive ideals, they completely lost themselves.
I am the eighth and youngest child in this crazy family, and in all my sixteen years, I still haven't figured out why my parents had so many descendants if they still have no clue what to do with all of us. None of us received enough attention from them, and most of us didn't get any at all. Nannies, tutors, psychologists, personal drivers, and a bunch of other hired personnel replaced our closest people and played the role with which our mom and dad, to put it mildly, coped poorly.
Our parents, grandparents, and other close relatives became slaves to their own business. They were staunch opponents of working for wages, and in their humble opinion, a business makes a person independent. But in the case of my dear family, the Lombardis became dependent on their own wealth.
I was groomed for Harvard almost since the very birth, and, as funny as it may sound, I hadn't even heard of other universities until recently. Significant prospects for a carefree life lay ahead of me, but at the same time, the right to my own opinion was being closed off. Because when the script of your life is strictly outlined step by step, you won't find a blank page for experiments and creativity. Life itself resembles a precisely calibrated clock that always shows the right time.
They had many things, and these things controlled them. They engaged in a business they hated to earn money that brought no one true happiness. But they didn't even know another life. Their greatest unhappiness lay in the fact that those around them thought the Lombardis were infinitely happy.
Their each day was meticulously scheduled by the minute, and notebooks were filled with kilometers-long lists of tasks. Everything had to be flawless, without delays or unforeseen events. The Lombardis had to have the most money, the most expensive house, the most successful business, and the smartest children.
But sometimes even the most precise mechanism malfunctions, and the best thought-out script has to be rewritten from scratch. And one day, for the first time in sixteen years, it happened to me.
