2

My father looked annoyed. When a man was cornered, even the sound of a dropped poker chip was too much.

Adrian frowned and turned away. Valeria hurried over, picked up the chip, and put it back in my hand.

"Amalia, go wait for me in the sitting room, okay?"

She took a fruit-flavored hard candy from her dress pocket and laid it in my palm.

She didn't scold me.

Nobody in my family ever did. They just gently ushered me out whenever something important came up.

Lorenzo came over too. He crouched in front of me with his usual practiced smile.

"Amalia, listen to Valeria. There's hot chocolate in the sitting room, along with those almond cookies you like."

He turned to Rosa Costa, our maid. "Rosa, take Amalia to the sitting room. Keep the door closed. We don't want anything upsetting her."

I looked down at him.

Ten years ago, when he first entered this study, he hadn't dared touch the chair across from my father.

Now he gave orders in my father's place, and somehow nobody in my family thought anything of it.

Rosa carefully took my arm. "Come along, Ms. Amalia."

I didn't move.

Victor gave a sudden laugh. "What's the hurry, Mr. Bassi?"

He picked up his coffee and looked at me. "So this is the famous Amalia Romano? I hear she can't tell a Committee badge from a poker chip."

My father's face darkened. Adrian's head snapped up.

"We're here to discuss an agreement, Victor. Leave my sister out of it."

Victor spread his hands. "You misunderstand me, Adrian. For something this important, the whole family ought to be here. Why not let Amalia stay as a witness? She can see for herself how the Romano seat ends up in Ferrante hands."

Not a single curse word in it, and it was uglier than any curse.

Valeria pressed the report to her chest. "You came here to negotiate temporary management, not use my sister's condition to humiliate us."

"Condition?" Victor smiled. "Are you sure you want to use that word before a Committee hearing, Valeria? If a direct member of the family can't manage her own affairs, the Committee has every reason to question whether your family can maintain a stable line of succession."

Adrian stepped forward, the chair legs screeching across the floor.

"Say that again."

Lorenzo stepped between them at once. "Adrian, please. Don't do anything rash."

He turned to Victor with a slight bow. "Mr. Ferrante, Valeria spoke in the heat of the moment. Please don't hold it against her."

Then he faced my father. "Don, let Amalia leave. If Mr. Ferrante insists on dragging her into this, there's no reason to make her stay and be humiliated."

My father said nothing for a long time.

The candy wrapper crinkled in my fist. He glanced at me and started to say something, then stopped.

He no longer had the strength to protect a daughter who didn't know any better.

When I was eight, Adrian taught me about poker chips.

White, blue, black. He laid them out one by one.

If I got them wrong, he gathered them up and started again. Sometimes I just stared at the table. He never got angry. He'd push the candy closer to me.

When I was ten, Valeria took me to the doctor.

Worried I wouldn't understand, she always crouched beside me, held my hand, and explained everything slowly. On the way back to the estate, she'd ask if I was cold or hungry, or if I wanted to sleep with my head on her shoulder.

Eventually, they all accepted it. My family could afford one useless child.

That was exactly what I'd wanted.

But tonight Victor was using me to hit my father where it hurt most.

At last, my father spoke. "Take her out. I'm not leaving her here for people to laugh at."