Chapter 4: The Version She Told
Bianca was the first to move.
She set the lipstick down, smoothed the front of her robe, and turned to face the room with the composure of someone who had rehearsed for exactly this moment.
"I think," she said, "that everyone who doesn't belong here should leave."
She looked at Rosalie.
Then at the makeup artist.
Then, pointedly, at Elena.
Elena did not move.
"Mama." Alessandro said it gently.
A warning, not a dismissal.
"I'll take Livia to get something to eat," Rosalie said.
She didn't wait for permission.
She picked Livia up — the girl was small enough still, just — and carried her toward the door.
As she passed Alessandro, Livia reached out and touched his face with one hand.
He caught her fingers and held them for a moment.
Then let go.
The door closed behind them.
In the corridor, Livia pressed her face against Rosalie's neck.
"Rosie," she said.
"My hair looks bad, doesn't it."
"No, sweetheart."
"It does.
I can feel it."
Rosalie stopped walking.
She sat down on the bench along the corridor wall and held the girl properly, both arms around her.
"Your hair is going to grow back," she said.
"And until it does, we'll find something beautiful to do with it.
I promise."
Livia was quiet for a moment.
"Is Daddy going to still get married today?"
"I don't know yet."
"I don't want him to."
Rosalie didn't answer that.
She just held her tighter.
Inside the bridal suite, the conversation had not softened.
"You want to talk about honesty?" Bianca's voice carried through the door, not loudly, but clearly.
"Let's talk about the fact that you never told me the full story about Livia's mother.
Let's talk about what you left out."
Alessandro's reply was lower.
Rosalie couldn't make out the words.
"I found things too," Bianca said.
"I didn't come into this blind."
A pause.
"What things?" Alessandro's voice, sharper now.
"Letters.
From before we met.
From a woman named Serena."
Silence.
"I see that name means something to you."
"Where did you find letters—"
"In the same place your mother found her little document.
Your father's study.
Apparently your family keeps everything." A short, humorless sound.
"Everything except the truth."
Rosalie looked down at Livia.
The girl had gone very still.
"Rosie," Livia said quietly.
"Who is Serena?"
Rosalie's chest tightened.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
She knew the name.
She had heard it once, years ago, from Alessandro's sister in an unguarded moment that was never repeated.
But she did not know what the letters said.
She did not know what Bianca had read.
She did not know what was about to come apart.
The door to the bridal suite opened.
Elena stepped out.
She pulled it closed behind her and stood in the corridor for a moment, her hand still on the handle.
She looked at Rosalie.
Then at Livia.
Then she sat down on the bench beside them, smoothed her skirt, and said nothing for a long moment.
"Elena," Rosalie said carefully.
"What's happening in there?"
Elena looked at Livia.
"Are you hungry, little one?"
Livia nodded.
"Then let's find you something." She stood and held out her hand.
"Rosalie, come with us.
Alessandro needs a few minutes alone."
"With her?"
Elena's expression answered that before her words did.
May you like
"No," she said.
"Not with her."
