Chapter 12
My mother asked to see Enzo.
I almost refused.
Then caught myself.
Her brother.
Her choice.
They met in the old garden sitting room.
I stayed.
So did two guards.
My mother looked at him for a long time.
“You killed Isabella.”
Enzo shook his head.
“No.”
“You loosened the hand that did.”
His expression tightened.
She knew how to speak to him.
They grew up together.
Shared a father who taught both of them that responsibility could always be pushed one person downward.
Enzo looked at me.
“Matteo touched the saddle.”
My mother laughed sadly.
“And who taught Matteo which outcome would please you?”
Silence.
Then she looked at Vanessa.
“And now a child.”
Vanessa said nothing.
My mother’s face changed.
“You sprayed her with a hose?”
“She was covered in mud.”
My mother stared.
“God.”
Not outrage.
Disgust.
That hurt Vanessa more.
“You think you’re better?”
My mother nodded.
“In that moment?”
“Yes.”
Clean answer.
Vanessa flinched.
My mother continued.
“I have been jealous. Cruel. Proud. I have said things to Damian I regret.”
I looked at her.
True.
“But I never needed a child humiliated to feel important.”
Silence.
Enzo scoffed.
“You always spoiled Damian.”
My mother turned toward him.
“And you always thought fear was proof people respected you.”
He laughed.
“It built this family.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“It built men who killed a young mother and then taught her daughter to blame herself for falling.”
That landed.
Even Enzo stopped.
My mother looked at me.
“You cannot fix Isabella.”
I knew.
“You cannot make Audrey forget.”
I knew that too.
“But you can stop this family from calling cruelty tradition.”
That was the real work.
Not revenge.
Not punishment.
Language.
Structure.
Who gets believed.
Who gets access.
What children are taught to call normal.
I looked at Enzo.
May you like
He had spent decades surviving consequences because every act could be explained as protecting the family.
That excuse ended with me.
