Equally Ungrateful: Like Father, Like Daughter
I attend Don Vittorio Moretti's celebration banquet in a white evening gown that once belonged to his late wife.
But his seven-year-old daughter, Sofia Moretti, shoves me into the sea.
As I plunge into the water, my ankle gets slashed by a jagged iron piling.
The scent of blood instantly draws a frenzy of sharks.
Above me, Sofia stands on the dock, clapping and laughing. The cruelty in her eyes is identical to the way Vittorio looks at me.
Sofia points at me and screams, "Do you really think wearing my Mamma's dress makes you worthy of becoming the Donna of the Moretti family?
"You're nothing but my Papa's mistress. If I tell him to throw you out, he'll do it."
I thrash against the freezing waves, and with every kick, every bone in my body howls in pain.
By the time they pull me ashore, I'm shivering beneath a shawl.
I look at Sofia, waiting for an explanation.
Instead, she simply lifts her chin and spits in my face.
Whatever remained of my hope for the little girl I'd raised for seven years vanishes in that instant.
"You don't have to wait for your Padre to throw me out. I'll leave on my own tomorrow."