Chapter 12 - MY MOTHER’S FOOD
Florence refused formal compensation from Vanessa.
She accepted reimbursement for a ruined blouse and medical evaluation.
Nothing more.
Then she insisted on eating dinner in her own suite for a week.
Not because she feared the dining room.
Because she was angry.
I joined once.
She told me to leave.
“Why?”
“You hover.”
“My children were hungry.”
“They are eating now.”
“You were hungry.”
“I have survived dinner delays.”
“Mom.”
She put down her fork.
“Gianluca, Vanessa humiliated me. Do not turn that into permission to manage me.”
There.
My mother remained my mother.
Not my dependent victim.
I apologized.
Then asked:
“What do you want?”
“Normal staff.”
“You have them.”
“Privacy.”
“Done.”
May you like
“And stop asking whether I ate.”
That one took longer.
