Chapter 12
My mother’s arrest broke the De Luca family in half.
Some called me traitor.
Some called me weak.
Some quietly sent documents they had hidden for years.
Fear loses servants when it starts losing trials.
Vivian stayed through all of it.
Not as my bride.
As herself.
She spent mornings with Maisie.
Afternoons with attorneys.
Nights sitting beside me in the garden, both of us too tired to speak.
One night, she said, “Do you still want children?”
The question came from nowhere.
Everywhere.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
“I’m afraid I’ll become my mother.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re afraid of it.”
She looked at me.
“That’s not proof.”
“No. But it is a start.”
Maisie began therapy.
Her first drawing after the court hearing showed the broken vase.
Beside it, she drew herself standing on the pieces.
Her therapist asked what it meant.
Maisie said, “I broke the quiet.”
I kept a copy in my study.
Not hidden.
Framed.
Portia’s trial date was set for spring.
My mother’s for summer.
Carlo took a plea.
Cedric gave everything he had.
Rose’s diaries became public record.
Vivian read them slowly, page by page.
When she finished, she said, “Grandmother tried.”
“Yes.”
“And everyone made trying dangerous.”
I nodded.
Vivian closed the diary.
“Then we make telling safer.”
That was the first time the idea of a foundation appeared.
May you like
Not in a boardroom.
In grief.
