Chapter 2
We moved into the library.
Family only.
Lucinda.
Preston.
Vincent.
My sister Elena.
Elisa upstairs with her nanny.
The wedding continued without us.
Good.
Other people deserved not to have their marriage swallowed by Caradonna history.
I read the letter again.
Father wrote it sixteen years earlier.
Before Elisa.
Before her mother, Marina, and I even knew whether we wanted children.
The Custodian Table had existed for three generations.
Its purpose sounded practical.
If the Caradonna head died while leaving a minor child, an older branch would temporarily manage family affairs and “protect” the child until adulthood.
Which branch?
Lucinda’s.
Her father had been my father’s older cousin.
After him—
Lucinda.
And through marriage—
Preston.
I looked at her.
“You would control Caradonna if I died while Elisa was young.”
She straightened.
“Temporarily.”
There was that word.
“How temporarily?”
“Until she was old enough.”
“To do what?”
Silence.
Father’s letter answered.
The old arrangement allowed the Custodian branch to decide whether the child was suitable to inherit any leadership role at all.
There it was.
Not guardianship.
Gatekeeping.
If I died, Lucinda and Preston could raise Elisa near the family, govern in her name, then later declare her unsuitable and retain control.
I stared at them.
“You knew.”
Lucinda whispered:
“I knew the tradition.”
“No.”
I held up the envelope.
“You knew Father ended it.”
Her face broke.
That was different.
May you like
She had not merely expected an old custom to continue.
She had hidden the order that killed it.
