Chapter 9 - GABRIEL’S LETTER
Lila wanted to read the letter.
Immediately.
Of course.
Dominic hesitated.
Her therapist reviewed it first with permission.
Nothing harmful.
No secrets requiring adulthood.
So Lila opened it at the kitchen table.
Ethan sat beside her.
Dominic and Laura stayed across the room.
Lila read slowly.
Hello, kid I haven’t met.
If Dominic is your father, I am sorry in advance.
Lila burst out laughing.
Dominic glared at the ceiling.
Gabriel.
Even dead.
The letter continued.
Your dad is stubborn, loud when he thinks he’s whispering, and incapable of admitting he is worried until everyone else already knows.
Ethan laughed.
Dominic pointed:
“Both of you can leave.”
Neither moved.
Then:
But if you ever wonder whether the Bellini name means you owe this family something, it doesn’t.
A name is not a debt.
Lila became quiet.
Gabriel wrote:
Our father believed families survive through bloodlines and succession.
I think families survive when children are allowed to become people instead of replacements.
Dominic swallowed.
He wished Gabriel had said this to him.
Maybe he had tried.
They were both younger then.
Worse listeners.
The final paragraph:
If I have a child one day and you meet them, don’t let adults turn you into competitors.
You didn’t choose the family you were born into.
Neither did they.
You should at least get the chance to choose whether you like each other.
Lila looked at Ethan.
Ethan looked at her.
Then she said:
“I mostly like you.”
He shrugged.
“Same.”
Dominic laughed.
Laura cried.
Gabriel had written the antidote to Veronica twelve years before she created the poison.
The letter also changed Dominic’s legal priorities.
He met Grace.
“I want the gender preference gone.”
“We’re already challenging.”
“Not just for Lila.”
“For all descendants.”
“Good.”
“If we can terminate the old governance structure entirely?”
Grace smiled.
“That may actually be cleaner.”
Dominic stared.
“You enjoy destroying my father’s estate.”
“Immensely.”
They began.
Independent trustees.
Equal beneficiary standards.
No automatic male preference.
No spouse gaining broad authority merely through marriage.
No child’s identity tied to management control.
Modernization.
Complicated.
Possible.
Teresa supported it.
Laura supported Ethan’s interests.
Beatrice—Dominic’s elderly great-aunt who had stayed out of recent family politics—sent a handwritten note:
ABOUT TIME.
Dominic framed it in the legal office out of spite.
Meanwhile Veronica’s public image collapsed after gala footage leaked.
Dominic did not leak it.
Probably a guest.
He refused interviews.
No media war.
Veronica released a statement claiming:
“The incident has been mischaracterized during a painful private dispute.”
Lila saw part on a tablet before Dominic could stop her.
“What does mischaracterized mean?”
Dominic answered:
“Someone thinks people are describing something incorrectly.”
“She pushed me.”
“Yes.”
“So they’re describing it correctly.”
“Yes.”
Eight-year-old legal analysis.
Efficient.
Dominic ensured Lila did not become public spokesperson for anything.
School continued.
Piano lesson.
Swimming.
Dessert.
Normality as defense.
Ethan returned to Hawthorne.
Dominic offered to pay tuition.
Laura refused.
“Gabriel’s trust can handle it once activated.”
“Fine.”
Dominic signed the acknowledgment.
Not because of the money.
Because Ethan deserved his father’s plan.
The trust activated.
Laura remained trustee.
Dominic had no control.
Exactly right.
Ethan called afterward.
“So I’m rich?”
Dominic smiled.
“You’re ten.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Your trustee controls it.”
“So no sports car?”
“No.”
“This family is terrible.”
Dominic laughed.
Then Michael entered with bad news.
Someone had tried to access the Bellini family archive remotely.
Using Veronica’s former assistant credentials.
Rachel denied it.
Logs showed location:
Zurich.
A foreign IP.
Possibly spoofed.
Possibly not.
The file targeted:
SALVATORE AMENDMENTS — SEALED.
Another open thread.
Maybe Veronica had another ally.
Maybe the old trust held one more surprise.
Dominic looked at the alert.
Then turned the tablet off.
“Tomorrow.”
Michael smiled.
“Lila’s piano recital?”
May you like
“Yes.”
Priorities.
