Chapter 7 - Livia’s Mother
Elena died when Livia was two years and four months old.
A cerebral aneurysm.
No suspicious death.
No hidden survivor.
No mystery.
One moment she was standing in our kitchen arguing with me about whether Livia should attend a bilingual preschool.
Three hours later I was in a hospital waiting room being told there was nothing surgeons could do.
I had spent four years treating Elena’s memory in two contradictory ways.
Sacred where it comforted me.
Inconvenient where it interfered with moving forward.
Bianca exploited the second.
She told me keeping Elena’s photographs everywhere made it impossible for us to become a family.
Reasonable in moderation.
She told me Rosalie encouraged Livia’s fixation by talking about Elena too often.
Possibly.
She told me Livia needed to stop comparing wedding dresses to “Mommy’s white dress.”
Painful, but understandable.
Each complaint individually sounded like a woman trying to marry a widower.
Together they became erasure.
I had not seen the difference until Bianca ran clippers through the hair Elena used to brush.
Therapy was not optional anymore.
Not only for Livia.
For me.
Dr. Miriam Cole asked in our second session:
“Why did you choose Bianca?”
I almost laughed.
“She was intelligent. Confident. She wasn’t intimidated by my family or work.”
“Did she like Livia?”
“At first.”
“What does that mean?”
“She was attentive. Bought books. Took her shopping. Helped with school events.”
“Did Livia like her?”
“Yes.”
That was important.
This was not a story where a child hated the villain instantly and the father ignored obvious evil.
Livia once asked whether Bianca could come to parent breakfast.
She drew the three of us together.
She held Bianca’s hand during a thunderstorm.
Something changed when the engagement became real.
Maybe Bianca stopped performing.
Maybe fear increased.
Maybe both.
Rosalie said the change began when commercial planners first toured Bellaforte.
Bianca started talking about “adult spaces.”
She removed toys from the formal garden room.
She wanted Livia’s bedtime moved earlier when investors visited.
She banned crayons from the east library.
Ordinary household choices, perhaps.
Then:
She moved Elena’s portrait from the main staircase without asking.
Livia cried.
Bianca called it a tantrum.
Rosalie put the portrait in storage rather than fight.
I came home and barely noticed.
That admission hurt.
Then an old video from Elena’s phone surfaced.
Not secret.
Family archive.
She was sitting in the garden with two-year-old Livia on her lap and Rosalie behind them holding a picnic basket.
Elena joked:
“If anything happens to me, these two will run Bellaforte better than Alessandro.”
I laughed in the video.
Rosalie said:
“Absolutely not.”
Elena answered:
“Good answer.”
Nothing legal.
But seeing their relationship changed something.
Rosalie had never acted like a woman waiting for power.
She had repeatedly avoided it.
Then Sterling confirmed Elena had named three possible “personal advocates” in priority order.
First:
Her sister Francesca.
She lived in Italy and had since become medically unable to travel regularly.
Second:
Rosalie Kent.
Third:
A professional child advocate selected by Sterling.
Again:
Not guardian.
Not trustee.
Observer and reporter.
Could Rosalie gain financially?
No.
The trust would reimburse reasonable professional expenses if formally activated.
Nothing more.
Bianca’s claim that Rosalie wanted a lucrative trust position collapsed.
Then Francesca called me.
She was seventy now.
“Alessandro, Elena worried about exactly one thing.”
“What?”
“That Bellaforte would make people think Livia was wealthy before they remembered she was a child.”
That sounded like Elena.
Then:
“She did not hate the idea of you remarrying.”
“I know.”
“She hated the idea of a new marriage turning Livia into an obstacle.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did she know Bianca?”
“No.”
“So this was general.”
“Yes.”
Good.
No prophetic dead wife.
Then Francesca mentioned Schedule Seven.
“I signed a witness acknowledgment when Elena created it.”
“What does it do?”
“I don’t remember the legal details.”
“Anything?”
She hesitated.
“It removes certain people from Bellaforte decisions if they try to force Livia out for financial reasons.”
There.
Close.
Not full mechanism.
The hearing was five days away.
Then Bianca filed her own petition asking the court to remove Rosalie as a potential advocate because of “emotional enmeshment” with Livia.
She attached photographs.
Rosalie hugging Livia.
Rosalie attending school recital.
Rosalie sleeping in a chair beside Livia during a fever.
Evidence of caregiving.
Bianca called it improper dependence.
I looked at the filing and understood the same trick she used on my daughter:
Take love.
Remove context.
Rename it pathology.
The court denied emergency removal.
Full issue waited.
Then Livia asked me:
“Can Rosalie stay forever?”
I said the wrong thing first.
“Of course.”
Dr. Cole corrected me later.
Do not promise forever when employment and life can change.
So I went back.
“Rosalie can stay as long as it works for everyone, and no one is sending her away because she protected you.”
Livia nodded.
“Bianca said maids go when wife comes.”
I felt something cold.
“Did she say that?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“She said Mommy people go away after wedding.”
Mommy people.
Rosalie.
Photographs.
Hair.
Maybe even Livia.
May you like
The wedding was not simply Bianca joining our family.
In her mind, it was a change of regime.
