Chapter 15
Genevieve left the Ashworth estate.
Not for me.
I made that clear.
She moved into a small townhouse owned in her own name, surrounded by security she hired herself.
Her parents tried to cut her off financially.
They discovered most of her personal assets had been legally separated years earlier.
Apparently Genevieve had been preparing for escape longer than she admitted.
She requested one meeting with Fatima.
Fatima said no.
Genevieve accepted it.
Then she asked whether she could send Amara a replacement lamb.
Fatima said no again.
Good.
Apologies do not purchase access.
Genevieve stopped asking.
Months passed.
The four captains each faced consequences proportionate to what they chose.
Not all returned.
Michael did, eventually.
He told me something I kept.
“When Vivienne threatened my daughter, I thought loyalty to you meant protecting the family problem from you.”
I understood.
Too well.
People around powerful men often decide what information the leader can handle.
That turns loyalty into filtration.
Filtration becomes blindness.
My father suffered from it.
So had I.
We changed protocol.
Any threat involving a family member could bypass rank.
Housemaid.
Driver.
Cook.
Guard.
Nobody needed a captain’s permission to reach my office with a credible safety concern.
Rafe called it chaotic.
I said:
“Then organize the chaos without rebuilding the wall.”
He did.
Amara became less afraid of me.
At first she still called me Mr. Alessandro.
Then just Alessandro.
One afternoon she visited the estate kitchen while Fatima worked and brought me two cookies.
“One for you.”
“And the other?”
She hugged it to her chest.
“Mine.”
Progress.
I accepted my one.
Her stuffed lamb still had the faint champagne stain.
Fatima offered to clean it professionally.
Amara refused.
“Bad lady did it.”
I looked at Fatima.
She shrugged.
The child wanted the mark.
For now.
Maybe one day she would wash it.
Maybe not.
May you like
Her choice.
That principle had become unexpectedly central to everything we rebuilt.
