Chapter 2
I took Livia into the adjoining sitting room myself.
She did not want a mirror.
That told me everything about how deeply Bianca had already gotten inside her head.
I sat on the carpet in front of her.
“Look at me.”
She did.
Barely.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her lip trembled.
“Bianca said I ruin pictures.”
My hands tightened against my knees.
“What pictures?”
“The wedding ones.”
Of course.
Flower girl.
Perfect ceremony.
Perfect bride.
And apparently a three-year-old child who needed to fit Bianca’s idea of symmetry.
“You’re not ruining anything.”
Livia looked down.
“My hair is bad.”
“No.”
“It’s short.”
“Part of it is.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Bad?”
“No.”
I waited until she looked at me.
“Different is not bad.”
She considered that.
Then asked:
“Will you still carry me?”
Something inside me broke cleanly.
I picked her up immediately.
“Yes.”
She wrapped both arms around my neck.
That was answer enough.
Rosalie stood near the doorway, twisting her apron between her fingers.
I looked at her.
“How long?”
Her face changed.
“Mr. Rizzano…”
“How long has Bianca been treating her like this?”
Silence.
Livia stiffened against me.
Rosalie noticed.
So did I.
That meant my daughter was afraid of the answer too.
Rosalie finally whispered:
“Since the engagement party.”
Six months.
My breathing slowed.
“What happened?”
“At first it was comments.”
“What kind?”
“That Livia was spoiled. Too attached to you. Too loud around guests.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Then?
“Bianca started correcting her clothes.”
“How?”
“She would make her change if you complimented what Livia was wearing.”
I opened my eyes.
That was strange enough to matter.
“Why?”
Rosalie looked ashamed.
“I think she hated when your attention moved away from her.”
There it was.
Not discipline.
May you like
Competition.
Bianca had been competing with a three-year-old for her father.
