Chapter 23
Lucy met Bianca when she was fifteen.
Vittorio said no first.
Then hated himself for how quickly it came.
Lucy stared.
“You said older.”
“I said we could discuss it.”
“We’re discussing.”
“That does not mean yes.”
“I know.”
Good.
Dr. Bell was no longer Lucy’s regular therapist but agreed to consult.
Leah reviewed Bianca’s legal status.
No active prohibition prevented a professionally supervised meeting if Lucy requested it.
Bianca had not contacted Lucy directly.
Had not attempted to bypass counsel.
Had not asked relatives to intervene.
That mattered.
Not enough.
Lucy wanted one meeting.
“Why?”
Vittorio asked.
“I want to ask why she wanted me to call her Mom.”
That surprised him.
Not dog bowl.
Not the floor.
Not breakfast.
Mom.
The meeting took place in Dr. Bell’s office.
Vittorio next door.
Bianca entered looking older.
Smaller somehow.
Lucy noticed.
Fear had once made adults huge too.
Bianca sat.
“Hello, Lucy.”
“Hi.”
Silence.
Then:
“Why did you want Mom?”
Bianca looked down.
“Because I thought being your father’s wife should give me a certain place in the family.”
“That not answer.”
Bianca nodded.
“No.”
She tried again.
“I was jealous.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
Lucy’s face changed.
Bianca continued before shame made her retreat.
“When you needed Vittorio, he stopped what he was doing.”
“He my dad.”
“Yes.”
“I treated that as something being taken from me.”
Lucy stared.
“By five-year-old.”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Did you think if I say Mom then you win?”
Bianca closed her eyes briefly.
“In a way.”
“Win what?”
“Rank.”
The word sounded ugly in the room.
Good.
Lucy thought.
“Did you love Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Did you love me?”
Bianca took longer.
“I wanted to.”
Lucy frowned.
That answer hurt differently.
Bianca saw.
“I cared about you sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“I also resented you.”
Lucy looked toward Dr. Bell.
Then back.
“More honest.”
Bianca nodded.
“Did dog bowl make you feel important?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
Vittorio heard through the adjoining audio connection and closed his eyes.
Bianca continued.
“Not because of the bowl itself.”
Lucy waited.
“Because you were obeying me and your father did not know.”
That was the core.
Not discipline.
Not food.
Control hidden from the person whose attention she feared.
Lucy asked:
“Are you sorry because got caught?”
Bianca swallowed.
“Getting caught forced me to stop telling myself what I did was normal.”
“That yes?”
“Partly.”
Lucy appreciated that more than a clean no.
The meeting ended after thirty-eight minutes.
No hug.
No promise.
Outside, Vittorio asked:
“How are you?”
Lucy thought.
“Gross.”
Fair.
Then:
“I believe her.”
“About?”
“Being sorry.”
Vittorio nodded.
“Still don’t like her.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Can see again someday.”
That hurt.
Vittorio did not say no.
Not immediately.
Progress.
Lucy looked at him.
“You scared.”
“Yes.”
“Of her?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“You can be.”
Then walked toward the elevator.
Vittorio followed.
May you like
He had spent years telling Lucy that fear did not make every decision correct.
Now she had become old enough to tell him the same thing.
