Chapter 4
Father’s letter did more than end the Custodian Table.
It explained why.
He had watched another child destroyed by it.
My cousin Adrian.
I remembered him vaguely.
Quiet boy.
Older than me.
His father died when Adrian was eleven.
The Custodian branch took control.
Raised him toward leadership.
Every mistake recorded.
Every weakness discussed.
Every friendship evaluated.
At eighteen, they declared him “temperamentally unsuited.”
Then kept the authority they had supposedly held for him.
Adrian left.
Moved west.
Never returned.
I had been told he simply wanted a normal life.
Father knew better.
The system created a child whose entire upbringing was an audition.
Then punished him for failing under pressure.
Father wrote:
No child should spend childhood proving that adults may eventually return what already belongs to them.
I read that twice.
Then another line:
If Sebastian has a daughter, this family will be especially tempted to call custody protection and control tradition.
My jaw tightened.
He predicted Elisa.
Not literally.
The pattern.
A daughter would make conservative elders even more willing to place authority in an older branch.
Lucinda’s branch.
Father wanted it dead before such a child existed.
Lucinda kept it alive.
May you like
Not with ceremonies.
With silence.
