Chapter 16
Caleb recovered quickly.
Children often recover in ways adults mistake for forgetting.
He did not forget.
For weeks he refused to sit in the dining chair where Francesca tied him.
So I removed it.
Not the whole dining room.
Not every chair.
Just that one.
My father noticed.
“Symbolic?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Months earlier he might have called it indulgent.
Progress can be quiet.
Bianca changed too.
Not completely.
She was still ambitious.
Still sharp.
Still capable of irritating me within thirty seconds of entering a room.
I preferred that to repentance that erased personality.
One afternoon, she sat with me after council.
“I still think I would have been good at this.”
I looked at her.
“Maybe.”
She laughed.
“You can admit that now?”
“Yes.”
She grew quiet.
“I spent years needing you to be worse so I could feel better.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It was.”
We sat in silence.
Then she asked:
“What if Mason wants the life?”
“When he is grown, we talk.”
“And Caleb?”
“Same.”
No promises.
No predetermined winner.
No family game.
Bianca nodded.
“That would have saved us a lot.”
“Yes.”
Too late for childhood.
Not too late for theirs.
That evening, Caleb came into the council room carrying two toy knights.
He handed one to Mason.
“Fight?”
Mason looked at me.
I smiled.
“With toys.”
They sat on the carpet and crashed wooden figures together while capos discussed real territory six feet away.
May you like
Nobody watched to see who won.
That was the point.
