Chapter 10 - THE LETTER MY FATHER NEVER SENT
The most painful discovery came from an old box in my mother's attic.
I had returned to Venice to search for additional records.
Inside the box were sketches, invoices, and letters.
One envelope was addressed to Richard Bellmont.
It had never been mailed.
My father's handwriting covered three pages.
He described concerns about the distributor's contract.
He suspected that inventory records had been altered.
He feared someone was trying to acquire the collection without paying for it.
Then came the final paragraph.
If anything happens to the workshop, please make sure Maya knows I never agreed to surrender the Tre Vite collection. It belongs to our family.
I read the sentence again.
And again.
Then I began to cry.
My mother sat beside me.
She took my hand.
“He was so proud of you.”
I wiped my face.
“I should have helped him.”
“You did.”
“No.”
She squeezed my hand.
“Maya, you were his daughter. Not his lawyer. Not his accountant. Not his protector.”
I looked at the letter.
For years, I had carried guilt I had never spoken aloud.
Now I understood something.
My father had not failed.
May you like
He had been deceived.
And I could honor him without spending the rest of my life blaming myself.
