The question hung in the air.I didn’t have a good answer.I wanted freedom, but freedom to do what?I’d never had to think about it before.My life had always been mapped out -- private schools, designer clothes, carefully curated social events, and eventually a marriage that would strengthen family alliances.
“I want to choose,” I said finally.“I want to choose who I fuck, who I marry if I marry, what I do with my life.Is that too much to ask?”
“For Giuseppe?Probably.”
I laughed, but it came out bitter.Moving back to the chaise, I dropped onto it dramatically, throwing one arm over my eyes.“He’s been worse lately.More controlling.Like he knows something I don’t.”
“Maybe he does.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”I let my arm fall, staring at the ceiling.The fresco up there -- some Renaissance reproduction that had cost a fortune -- suddenly seemed ridiculous.Everything in this room was ridiculous.Beautiful and expensive and utterly meaningless.“I can feel it, Adi.Something’s coming.Some decision he’s already made that’s going to change everything.”
“Have you tried talking to him?Actually talking, not just fighting?”
“You can’t talk to Papa.You can plead your case and then watch him do whatever he was going to do anyway.”I sat up, running my fingers through my hair.My diamond bracelet caught on a strand and I yanked it free with more force than necessary.“He pretends to listen, nods in all the right places, and then completely ignores everything you’ve said.”
“What about Sofia?”
“Mama?”I snorted.“She’s worse.At least Papa is honest about being a controlling bastard.Mama just smiles and suggests I try being more accommodating.More understanding of the family’s needs.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”I stood again, unable to stay still.The restless energy was back, stronger now.I moved to one of my jewelry cases, running my fingers over the pieces inside.Tiffany, Cartier, Bulgari -- gifts from my father, purchased with blood money and given with the expectation of gratitude.“She’s been doing this so long she doesn’t even see it anymore.The way she swallows her opinions, plays the perfect hostess, pretends not to notice when Papa comes home with blood on his cuffs.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of?Turning into her?”
The question hit too close to home.I closed the jewelry case with a sharp snap.“I’d rather die,” I said again, and this time I meant it with everything in me.
“Well, don’t do that.Your funeral would be boring and I’d have to wear black, which washes me out.”
Despite everything, I smiled.“You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best and you know it.”I could hear her moving around on her end, probably getting ready for whatever evening plans she had.“Look, I know you don’t want advice --”
“Then don’t give it.”
“-- but maybe pick your battles.Giuseppe’s old school.You’re not going to change his mind by going head-to-head with him every time.”
“So what, I should just roll over and accept whatever he decides?”
“No.I’m saying be smart about it.You’re clever, Cat.Probably the smartest person I know, even if you are a spoiled brat.”
“Fuck you.”
“Love you too.My point is, if you’re going to fight him, make it count.Don’t waste your energy on every little thing.”
I wanted to argue, but she wasn’t wrong.Papa responded to strength, to strategy.Throwing tantrums -- no matter how justified -- just made him dismiss me as a child.“Fine.I’ll be strategic.”
“Liar.You’re going to do something dramatic and probably get yourself grounded, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”I glanced at my closet, an idea already forming.“There’s a family dinner tonight.Something important, based on how tense everyone’s been.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
“Caterina Lombardi, whatever you’re planning --”
“Gotta go, my warden’s here.”I’d heard the footsteps in the hall, recognized my mother’s measured pace.“I’ll call you later.”
