Chapter 6
My children asked why the capos bowed.
Of course.
Mia first.
She was eight.
Subtlety had no chance.
“Are you queen?”
“No.”
“Then why did they do that?”
“Respect.”
She frowned.
“For punching Nolan?”
“No.”
Important.
I did not want violence becoming the explanation for authority.
“They respect me because I lead the family.”
Leo sat across from us.
“Like Grandpa did?”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Different.”
“How?”
“Same responsibility. Different rules.”
He thought.
Then:
“Do we have to do it later?”
There.
Succession again.
“No.”
Both looked surprised.
“You can choose your lives.”
Mia immediately said:
“I want horses.”
Excellent.
Leo asked:
“What if I want family?”
“Then you earn a role.”
His face tightened.
“Even though I’m your son?”
“Especially because you’re my son.”
Good.
Nepotism is easiest to excuse through love.
I would not teach them that blood erased qualification.
Then Mia asked:
“Does Nolan hate me?”
No.
Wrong direction.
“He hated being stopped.”
She accepted that.
Children understand behavior better than ideology when adults speak plainly.
That night I wrote one new family rule:
No child under sixteen used in succession conversations.
Not even jokingly.
No “future boss.”
No “little queen.”
May you like
No comparing cousins.
Let children become people before relatives turn them into positions.
