Chapter 15
Camilla opened Angelo’s letter alone.
Domenico offered to leave.
She asked him to stay.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded the paper.
Angelo had written it shortly before his death.
Camilla,
I failed your father before I failed anyone else.
You were young when Enzo died. Anger will be easier for you than grief. If that anger turns toward my son, I cannot blame you.
But do not let anyone build a life with you by feeding that anger.
Camilla stopped reading.
Her breathing broke.
Domenico remained silent.
She continued.
Your father loved you enough to risk his name to tell the truth. If I cannot clear his name while I am alive, I hope one day you choose truth even when it costs you the person standing closest.
Camilla lowered the letter.
Marco.
Angelo had described the trap without knowing who would build it.
For years, Camilla believed her hatred proved loyalty to her father.
In reality, Marco had used that hatred to keep her from seeing him.
She folded the letter carefully.
“I wish I had found this before.”
Domenico looked at her.
“So do I.”
Camilla wiped beneath one eye.
“Would it have changed me?”
Domenico did not lie.
“I don't know.”
That answer hurt.
It also respected her more than false comfort would have.
A year after the wedding that never properly finished, Domenico held a small birthday lunch for Livia.
No ballroom.
No capos.
No marble pedestal.
Just family members Livia actually knew and trusted.
She opened gifts on the terrace.
One package contained a child’s pottery kit.
Livia spent the afternoon making a crooked little vase.
When it dried weeks later, she painted it badly.
Blue on one side.
Yellow on the other.
Domenico placed it on a low shelf in his study.
Camilla saw it during her first supervised visit months later.
She stopped in the doorway.
“Is that hers?”
Domenico nodded.
Livia sat at a small table coloring.
Camilla did not approach until Livia looked up first.
The child stared at her.
Camilla’s hands remained open at her sides.
No diamonds.
No rings.
No entitlement.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said.
Her voice shook.
Livia studied her.
Then returned to her picture.
Camilla accepted that.
She sat in the chair Domenico indicated and said nothing else.
After several minutes, Livia got up.
She carried the crooked vase toward Camilla.
Camilla’s breath caught.
Livia placed it on the table between them.
“Don't break it.”
Camilla’s eyes filled.
“I won't.”
Livia went back to coloring.
Domenico watched from across the room.
He did not call it forgiveness.
He did not call it redemption.
Those words belonged to adults who liked clean endings.
May you like
For now, Camilla had been allowed into the room.
Whether she ever earned a permanent place in Livia’s life would depend on what she did next—not on what the Valenti name once allowed her to demand.
