When I Walked Away, He Learned to Miss Me
The annual Vittorio family gala was in full swing when my brother, Don Marco Vittorio, decided to host a card game. The stakes were simple: the winner could make one demand of him.
Everyone knew I had been brought back to the Vittorio estate three years ago but still hadn't been formally acknowledged as family. They stepped aside, murmuring that this was Marco's way of giving me a chance—a test I might finally pass.
Only Gianna, the family's adopted princess, made sure I had none.
She counted off her boasts on her fingers. "Marco gives me a black card with a fifty-thousand-euro monthly limit."
"He bid on a lighthouse in the Bay of Naples for me."
"I give the family toast at New Year's Mass."
"My name is on the trust."
Four statements. I had one card left.
She smiled and delivered the killing blow: "This whole game? Marco threw it just to cheer me up."
My heart sank. I looked at my brother.
He smiled indulgently—that same smile he'd worn for three years, always taking her side, always asking me to wait.
I folded. I laid down my last card.
And suddenly, I didn't want to go home that badly anymore. I didn't need the Vittorio name.
I was done.