Chapter 6
The old grievance began before either child was born.
Corinne finally admitted that much.
“You became boss at twenty-six.”
“I know.”
“I was thirty-three.”
“I also know.”
“You never asked whether I wanted it.”
I stared.
“The chair?”
“Authority.”
Different word.
Better truth.
Corinne had been the older sibling.
For most of our childhood, she protected me.
Then our father trained me for command.
Not because she was incapable.
Because old Ravello—no, Ferraro—tradition still favored men at the time.
That part had been unfair.
I knew it.
Apparently she never stopped carrying it.
“You should have had more authority,” I said.
That surprised her.
“So you admit it.”
“Yes.”
Her face softened for half a second.
Then I continued.
“And that still does not give you the right to punish Ruby.”
The softness vanished.
“You inherited everything.”
“No.”
“I watched Dad build you a future I was never offered.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
Fair.
I let that stand.
Then I asked:
“What does Noah have to do with it?”
She looked toward her son.
“Everything.”
There.
Not because he wanted power.
Because she wanted history corrected through him.
“You think if Noah receives more, something in your childhood becomes fair.”
Corinne’s eyes filled with anger.
“I think my son should not spend his life under your daughter.”
Ruby stood several feet away listening.
That was enough.
I stepped between them.
“No child spends life under another because adults once fought over chairs.”
Corinne laughed bitterly.
“You can say that because your child starts above mine.”
I almost answered.
Then stopped.
That was the dangerous part.
Some of her grievance was real.
The solution was poison.
If I dismissed the grievance entirely, I taught Ruby the same arrogance Corinne feared.
If I indulged Corinne’s method, I taught Noah resentment was inheritance.
The answer had to separate injustice from revenge.
May you like
That was harder than slapping my sister.
Far harder.
