Chapter 13
Francesca did not apologize.
Not immediately.
She defended herself for another week.
She told relatives I was overreacting.
She told Vincent I was punishing her for “old parenting disagreements.”
She told Bianca I had manipulated Mason into turning against his grandmother.
That last one failed.
Bianca stopped answering her calls.
That hurt Francesca more than losing access to Caleb.
Good.
Consequences should touch the place behavior came from.
At the next family dinner, my mother was absent.
Nobody died.
Nobody lost authority.
No child was tested.
The food was still served.
That fact would have offended her.
My father sat farther down the table than usual.
Not at the head.
His choice.
I noticed.
So did the capos.
After dinner, Anthony Barlow approached me.
“Your mother has been calling people.”
“I know.”
“She says you’re dismantling tradition.”
I looked at him.
“What do you think?”
He smiled faintly.
“I think half of tradition is just old behavior nobody remembers choosing.”
Fair.
Then he asked:
“What happens if Caleb really isn’t suited someday?”
I appreciated the question.
Not because I liked it.
Because it was honest.
“Then he isn’t suited.”
Anthony blinked.
I continued.
“Being my son does not promise him command.”
“And Mason?”
“Same.”
He nodded slowly.
That was the answer everyone needed.
Not Caleb automatically wins.
Not Mason is excluded.
Children grow.
Adults decide later.
Or perhaps the children decide they want nothing to do with the chair at all.
The idea would have horrified Francesca.
May you like
It relieved me.
For the first time, succession stopped feeling like a weapon aimed at childhood.
