Chapter 13
Bianca asked to see Livia.
I said no.
She became furious.
“I have been in her life for two years.”
“And?”
“I deserve to explain.”
“No.”
Her expression twisted.
“You’re teaching her to hate me.”
I stared.
“She’s three. She wants you away from her.”
“That’s because you reacted like I’m some monster.”
I almost laughed.
“I walked in while you raised clippers toward her a second time.”
“I was fixing the uneven side.”
There.
Even now.
Reframing.
The second approach was not continuation.
It was correction.
“You don’t get access to her so you can repair your image.”
Bianca’s eyes filled.
“I loved her.”
“No.”
She flinched.
“You loved the version of her that didn’t compete with you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe.”
I nodded.
“But fairness is no longer the priority.”
She stared.
“There will be no goodbye?”
“Not unless Livia asks for one.”
“She’s a child.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re letting her decide?”
“Who touches her? Who approaches her after frightening her?”
I stepped closer.
“Yes.”
That offended her.
Of course.
Control always hates consent most when the person gaining it is smaller.
Bianca looked toward the hallway.
“You will regret letting a toddler run your house.”
I smiled faintly.
“She doesn’t.”
Then my voice dropped.
“But neither do you.”
She understood.
The engagement had made her believe she was already Mrs. Rizzano.
Already entitled to reorganize the house.
Already entitled to discipline the child.
Already entitled to decide which dead woman could be remembered.
May you like
The ring on the floor had ended more than a wedding.
It ended the authority she had awarded herself.
