Chapter 13
Sophia’s notebook became famous inside the estate.
I hated that.
Adults started asking what she was drawing.
She stopped drawing around them.
Of course.
We had turned something private into evidence.
I apologized.
To a three-year-old.
Elena looked surprised.
Good.
“Sophia.”
The child stared at me.
“I shouldn’t have shown your drawings to everyone.”
She thought.
“Okay.”
“That’s yours.”
“My book?”
“Yes.”
She hugged it.
“Mine.”
Simple.
Important.
I had used her drawings because they exposed Victor.
Necessary in the moment.
Still not entitlement forever.
Elena noticed.
“Thank you.”
I nodded.
Then Sophia tore out one page.
Handed it to me.
Titan.
Me.
Broken glass.
Victor on the floor.
And herself sitting in the middle.
I looked at it.
“What’s this?”
“Scary day.”
Fair.
“Why am I so big?”
She shrugged.
“You big.”
Accuracy.
Then she pointed to Titan.
“He scared too.”
That stopped me.
Everyone had described Titan as vicious.
Protective.
Dangerous.
Nobody except Sophia called him scared.
And she was probably right.
Victor had conditioned him.
Pulled his leash.
Confused his commands.
Then Titan woke to me collapsed and strangers approaching.
Fear looked like aggression.
I looked at the drawing again.
Maybe that applied to more people than dogs.
Victor’s fear of irrelevance became control.
Carlo’s fear of changing hierarchy became conspiracy.
Old capos’ fear of instability became willingness not to ask hard questions.
My own fear?
Loss.
Maybe that was why I kept people at emotional distance even before this.
If nobody mattered too much, nobody could be used against me.
Then a maid’s daughter walked into my study and spoke gently to a hundred-pound guard dog.
Trust entered the room in the least strategic form imaginable.
I folded the drawing.
Then stopped.
“It’s yours.”
Sophia shook her head.
“For you.”
Choice.
May you like
I accepted it.
That difference mattered.
