Chapter 12
Luca returned the copied formula cards.
Did I believe every copy was returned?
No.
So Helena changed three proprietary bases.
Not because we were terrified.
Because secrecy had already failed.
Once knowledge escapes, better systems assume it exists outside.
That annoyed older family members.
They preferred stories where betrayal ends when traitor hands back envelope.
Life is not that polite.
Luca and I met twice afterward.
Cold.
Functional.
The second meeting, he surprised me.
“I loved her.”
I looked at him.
“Why tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
Maybe because Valeria had ended things with him.
Why?
His secret copying.
Not the kiss.
Not even using Caradonna formula.
She could forgive ambition.
She could not tolerate discovering that the man who offered freedom had quietly built leverage against her.
Irony.
“You two deserve each other,” I said.
He laughed.
“Probably.”
Then:
“She loved you more.”
I did not answer.
Competition over emotional percentages is pathetic at forty-two and forty-eight alike.
Luca continued.
“She came to me because she wanted a place where she didn’t feel like somebody’s future wife.”
“And you made her somebody’s useful partner.”
He flinched.
Good.
We had both reduced her differently.
Mine through protective gravity.
His through opportunism.
She reduced herself too by choosing secrecy.
Nobody got clean hands.
That was becoming a recurring feature of adulthood.
Before leaving, Luca said:
“Your mother hates me.”
“Yes.”
“She sent back a hotel gift basket.”
“What did she write?”
He smiled.
“Nothing.”
Worse.
May you like
Margaret.
Excellent.
