Raphael
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She didn’t look at Vincenzo when she said it.
She looked straight at me. Her chin lifted just enough to make the point clear.
“I’m not a charity case.”
For a second nobody spoke.
Gianna stood there barefoot in the middle of Vincenzo’s study and every inch of her posture screamed the same thing.
I don’t need any of you.
Interesting.
Vincenzo let out a slow breath, the sound somewhere between tired and amused.
“We never said you were,” he replied calmly.
His tone stayed even, patient in that way men get when they’re explaining something obvious to a stubborn child.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he continued, “every woman in this house has the same arrangements,” he gestured lazily toward the sitting area, “My wife Claire. My sister-in-law Madeleine. Every woman under my roof. It is my responsibility to take care of the women and children in my family,” he said. “You’re not some special exception, Gianna.”
Her jaw tightened.
Vincenzo continued like the matter was already settled.
“Your mother’s accounts are already arranged,” he added, “Jules as well.”
That finally made Gianna blink in surprise.
“A trust has been set aside for her,” he said. “She’ll be leaving that public school soon and transferring to a proper private one. It’s the least I can do after your mother married my father.”
To anyone with sense, the conversation would have ended there.
But Gianna wasn’t anyone with sense.
I could see it in the way her fingers curled tighter at her sides. In the stubborn set of her shoulders. In the way her spine straightened instead of bending.
She didn’t look grateful.
She looked angry like someone had just insulted her.
The pride on that girl was unbelievable.
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