Chapter 11
Mia asked whether I was mad at Celeste.
“Yes.”
“Very?”
“Yes.”
“Will you hit her?”
Anna froze.
I understood why.
Mia had seen violence in the dining room.
Marco attacked first.
I hit back.
To a three-year-old, sequence matters less than image.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need to.”
She thought.
“Marco got hit.”
“He tried to hurt me.”
“Celeste hurt Mommy.”
There.
Child logic.
Equal harm.
Equal response.
I crouched.
“Mommy needs safety more than Celeste needs pain.”
Mia stared.
Then nodded as if filing the sentence somewhere.
Good.
I needed it too.
Old Romano instincts pushed toward spectacle.
Public punishment.
Humiliation.
Maybe worse.
But Celeste’s real power came from access.
Hostess authority.
Staff control.
Event control.
My trust.
Remove those.
The person underneath remained.
No borrowed mansion.
No ability to order Anna.
No ability to touch my meals.
No ability to say “Vittorio wants.”
That consequence would last.
May you like
Violence ends quickly.
Loss of access teaches longer.
