Chapter 14
Katherine asked to see Clara.
I said no.
She became furious.
“She is my grandniece.”
“Yes.”
“You cannot remove blood.”
“I am not.”
“You are keeping her from me.”
“Yes.”
That distinction seemed impossible for her.
“Why?”
I stared.
“You pulled her chair away.”
“She was being disrespectful.”
“She was trying to sit beside me.”
“She needs to learn hierarchy.”
“You dumped her dinner on the floor.”
“She needed correction.”
“You told her I would die.”
“I said eventually.”
“No.”
My voice lowered.
“You tied my death to her place in this family.”
Katherine looked away.
Then I said:
“You planned to move her while I was unconscious.”
Her jaw tightened.
“For safety.”
“No.”
“For control.”
Silence.
She tried another direction.
“You think Lucia would approve of how soft you’re raising her?”
My whole body went still.
Do not use my dead wife.
Katherine saw it.
Too late.
“She wanted Clara protected.”
“Yes.”
“She wanted her away from family politics.”
“Yes.”
“Then St. Cecilia’s—”
“No.”
I cut her off.
“Lucia wanted Clara away from people who turn children into politics.”
That ended it.
Katherine stared at me.
Then whispered:
“You would destroy tradition for that girl.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
A pause.
“I would destroy any tradition that needs a three-year-old frightened to survive.”
Her face changed.
There was the line.
The limit.
Katherine had spent decades assuming tradition was sacred because it was old.
I no longer cared how old cruelty was.
May you like
If anything, age made it worse.
It meant too many people had suffered without anyone brave enough to end it.
