After all, with no wages of their own, they could barely feed themselves.
Emilio's voice cracked with fury:
"Is money all you people care about?!"
Someone pointed at the gold Patek Philippe on his wrist:
"That watch alone could cover every last one of our back wages! What right do you have to lecture us?!"
"Pay us! Yeah! Pay us what we're owed!"
The crowd surged forward. Emilio's face went white.
"These ungrateful wretches! That bastard Angelo must have spoiled them rotten!"
"Rush him! Strip the clothes off his back and sell them for what we're owed!"
"Go!"
"You wouldn't dare!"
Emilio staggered as hands grabbed at him from every direction, barely keeping his footing.
"Orders from the Don!"
A column of Castellano soldiers marched through the compound gates, hauling chest after chest of gifts from the main estate.
It turned out that Don Vittorio had visited Rosalia's compound recently and taken a great liking to Emilio's renovations.
These were his rewards.
Emilio sank to his knees, trembling:
"I humbly thank the Don for this generous tribute!"
The workers who had been seconds from rioting dropped to their knees as well, faces drained of color.
None of them had expected this.