"My brother is crude and unworthy. He has tarnished the Castellano name! I am willing to take over the household and restore dignity to this family!"
Rosalia looked at my brother's refined, austere face.
Her cheeks flushed.
"Granted."
Severance papers landed on the table.
I became the laughingstock of Kingsport.
I didn't argue. Didn't make a scene. I packed my things and left like I was told.
So why did they all come begging me to come back?
……
When Rosalia Castellano said "Granted,"
I was caught off guard.
I had rolled up my sleeves and poured myself into running her family's operations for an entire year.
She had praised me more than once in front of others.
She said I was the greatest fortune of her life.
And now, after one look at my brother's face,
she was ready to hand him everything?
Emilio slid me a sidelong glance, dripping with contempt.
It was always like this.
He had been a prodigy with words and letters since childhood, groomed to be a consigliere of the highest order.
All I ever knew was arithmetic, the lowly craft of earners.
Every time he dazzled a room with some effortless quotation from Machiavelli or Dante, he would turn and give me that same look. That quiet, cutting dismissal.