Chapter 7
I asked Maisie if Frank had ever told her not to call me.
She nodded.
No hesitation.
My chest tightened.
“What did he say?”
She hugged her stuffed cat.
“He said you get mad when I interrupt.”
“I don’t.”
“I know now.”
Now.
That word hurt.
“What else?”
She looked at the carpet.
“He said big girls fix things themselves.”
Frank’s voice again.
No need to hear it.
I knew the philosophy.
Pain handled privately.
Need disguised.
Help delayed until obedience returned.
I crouched.
“If anybody hurts you, you come to me.”
She nodded.
“Even family?”
“Yes.”
“Even Grandpa Frank?”
“Yes.”
She thought about it.
“Even Renata?”
“Yes.”
“Even if they say you’re busy?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Even if you’re with the scary men?”
I almost smiled.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
Rules established.
Children like clear rules.
Adults complicate things when complexity protects power.
Then Maisie whispered:
“Frank said you’d send me away if I made trouble.”
I went completely still.
“Where?”
“He said girls go to another house.”
My breathing changed.
What another house?
I stood and went back to Frank.
“What house?”
He stared.
“What?”
“The one you told Maisie I’d send her to.”
His face changed.
Small.
Enough.
Renata looked at him.
She did not know either.
Interesting.
“What house?”
Frank finally said:
“Old Caruso residence.”
My jaw tightened.
The north house.
Remote.
Barely used.
Family children were once sent there for “discipline” generations ago.
I had shut it down.
“Why mention it?”
Frank shrugged.
“She needed to understand consequences.”
I stared.
“You threatened my three-year-old with exile.”
“It was a story.”
“No.”
My voice went cold.
May you like
“It was history.”
And suddenly I wondered how many old Caruso traditions Frank had been quietly trying to resurrect without me.
