So when I left Jack, when I finally packed a bag and took Lily and walked out of that beautiful house with its beautiful furniture and its beautiful lie of a marriage, my mother couldn't understand.
He didn't hit you, she'd said, like that was the only metric that mattered.
And I'd wanted to scream at her. I'd wanted to explain that there are ways to break a person that don't leave bruises. That Jack had spent years making me smaller and smaller until I barely recognised myself.
That he'd controlled the money and criticised my body and made me ask permission for things that should've been my right. That he'd looked at other women while I stood right there and made me feel like it was my fault for not being enough.
But I couldn't say any of that. Because if I did, I'd have to watch my mother's face as she realised that the charm Jack used on her was the same charm he'd used on me. The same manipulation. The same playbook.
She fell for it too. And admitting that Jack is a monster means admitting she was fooled.
So instead, we do this. This careful dance around the truth.
"Lily's watching Peter Pan," I say, grabbing my jacket from the hook by the door.
"Again?"
"She loves it."
My mother softens, just a fraction. Whatever her feelings about my life choices, Lily is untouchable. "She's a sweet girl."
"She is."
I shrug into my jacket, check my phone for the time. The catering company van picks us up from a central location, and if I miss it, I don't work. If I don't work, I don't get paid. If I don't get paid?—
Don't spiral. Not now.
"There's leftover pasta in the fridge," I say. "She already had a bath. Bedtime is eight, but she'll try to negotiate for eight-thirty. Don't let her."
"I know how to handle my own granddaughter."
"I know you do."
We stare at each other. There's so much hanging in the air between us. I want to hug her. I want to shake her. I want to ask why she can't just see what Jack really is.
But I don't have time for any of it.
"I'll be back around midnight," I say instead. "Maybe later, depending on cleanup."
"Be safe."
Be safe. Like the danger in my life is the late-night subway ride home and not the man she keeps telling me to reconcile with.
"Always am."
I slip past her into the hallway, and the door clicks shut behind me. The neighbour's cigarette smoke clings to the air, and somewhere below, someone's playing music too loud.
I take the stairs two at a time.
Nico
I stand at the base of the double staircase, checking my watch for the third time in two minutes.
Seven forty-three. The gala starts at eight.
Tonight's my turn on rotation. Pietro handled last month's charity auction. Lorenzo took the opera fundraiser before that. We trade off escorting our sister or their wives to these social obligations like prisoners drawing lots for yard duty.
None of us want to be there.
