Chapter 7 - Colin’s version of me
Colin Whitmore had disliked my money before he enjoyed it.
That sounds contradictory.
It wasn’t.
He liked restaurants when I paid.
Vacations.
The townhouse down-payment gift I gave Alessandra before their marriage.
Theo’s nursery furniture.
The night nurse.
But every gift also reminded him that I could provide things he could not provide as easily.
Colin earned good money.
About $240,000 a year as a commercial real-estate acquisitions director.
Successful.
Educated.
Not dependent on me.
Yet he compared.
My houses.
Cars.
Staff.
Connections.
He once told Alessandra:
“Your father gets to look like the hero because he writes checks.”
She defended me.
That became another resentment.
After Theo’s birth, I offered:
Night nurse.
Meal-delivery service.
A housekeeper twice a week for six weeks.
Colin said yes in front of me.
Then complained privately to Marcia.
We later saw the messages.
His mother wrote:
If you let Giorgio install an entire staff, he’ll never let you be head of your own household.
Colin:
Alessandra thinks it’s normal.
Marcia:
Because she’s been rescued her whole life.
Colin:
I don’t want Theo raised thinking Grandpa solves everything.
Marcia:
Then stop letting him.
There.
The nurse was never really about $450 a night.
It was about status.
Authority.
Whose household.
Whose rules.
May you like
And Alessandra’s exhausted body became the battlefield.
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