Chapter 13
Matteo read the notes in silence.
His face changed at the third page.
“I never approved this.”
Rosalie pointed to the initials.
“Those are yours.”
“I initialed weekly household reports.”
“Without reading them?”
Matteo looked toward Alessandro.
The irony was brutal.
He had accused Alessandro of enjoying ignorance.
Matteo had done the same thing one level below.
Some entries were disguised.
Livia refused structured quiet time.
Livia resisted dietary discipline.
Livia displayed fixation on caregiver.
Beneath the clinical language were a locked door, withheld dessert, and attempts to separate her from Rosalie.
Matteo had signed.
Not because he knew every detail.
Because keeping Bianca satisfied made the wedding easier.
His motive was rational.
That made it worse.
Alessandro closed the notebook.
“You didn't need to hate Livia.”
Matteo looked at him.
“You just needed her discomfort to be less important than your plan.”
Matteo’s breathing became uneven.
“Yes.”
There was no defense left.
Rosalie stood near the window.
Alessandro looked at her.
“You should have been heard the first time.”
She folded her arms.
“Yes.”
No reassurance.
No quick forgiveness.
Alessandro accepted that too.
He offered Rosalie a formal senior-caregiver role with direct reporting outside household hierarchy.
She declined.
“For now.”
“Why?”
Her eyes moved toward Livia.
“Because you still solve guilt by giving people positions.”
That stopped him.
“What do you want?”
“A house where saying something bad happened doesn't become a political decision.”
Alessandro nodded.
That was harder to provide than a title.
The family residence changed.
No locked child spaces.
No disciplinary authority granted through marriage.
No private household directives routed through business staff.
Livia’s therapist began working with her.
The uneven haircut remained.
Alessandro offered to have it professionally corrected.
Livia refused.
“Rosalie says it grows.”
So they left it.
Then, one evening, Livia brought Alessandro a drawing.
Three people.
Herself.
Rosalie.
Alessandro.
Matteo was not there.
Bianca was not there.
But in one corner was a woman with long hair.
“Mommy?”
Livia nodded.
Then she pointed to another tiny figure outside the house.
Alessandro frowned.
“Who’s that?”
“Uncle Matteo.”
Alessandro’s chest tightened.
“Why is he outside?”
Livia looked at him.
“Because he knew.”
Three words.
May you like
Alessandro realized Rosalie had never told Livia about Matteo’s reports.
Which meant someone else had.
