Page 64 of His Two Hidden Masks

After the engagement painting, my parents commissioned family portraits to mark every stage of my sister’s childhood. My mother cradled Sara, first as a newborn, and next as a chubby toddler on her lap. I liked watching Sara grow in these paintings until she was a pre-teen at thirteen and I showed up.

I was the surprise child. The baby girl that nobody expected. Sara died five years later. Our time together was tragically brief. The last family portrait hung in an enormous gold frame behind my father’s desk.

My father and mother stood beside each other. Sara and I sat in front on them on the turquoise bench that was now in the lobby. I was only five. I don’t remember sitting for the painting, but I remember when they hung it in my father’s office after Sara’s funeral. It was painted months before she died.

Sara looked so vibrant, so alive. There was no trace of the signs of anemia that eventually revealed her swift blood cancer. She was months from death, but in my father’s office, Sara looked immortal, never growing old, never changing.

The door opened and my father strode across the room, sitting down at his desk.

“Papa,” I said, nodding at him in greeting.

“Let’s make this simple, Bella,” my father said, leaning forward on his desk. “The Uzano family is going into business with Street Entertainment. The last thing I need you to do is create distractions with your business ideas or, with Dylan Street.”

Well, fuck. Hearing my father say Dylan’s name was embarrassing. Hot and uncomfortable feelings coursed through my veins. At his icy tone, I regressed to feeling like a teenage girl being scolded for breaking curfew. “Papa, I don’t see how what I do matters…”

“I know you had dinner with Dylan last night,” my father said. “James told me everything, because like me, he wants this deal to go through. He does not want my daughter becoming a problem.”

“How am I a problem?” I asked, unable to stay silent. “And Dylan is not even a part of this acquisition. He runs Creative Development for the company. He wasn’t even supposed to be here.”

“So, now you know everything about him. I see you continue to prioritize your needs above your family. I don’t know what is more troubling to me,” my father said “your lack of judgment or your self-absorption.”

My father did not raise his voice. Like the night we’d spoken in the kitchen after I ran from the church, I wished he’d just yell at me.

“I have thought of nothing but this family for six months,” I said, my voice rising despite my every effort to mirror his controlled tone. My hands shook, so I balled them into fists at my side.

“I barely know Dylan, and you are acting like I’ve committed a crime with him. I am a grown woman, Papa. I can see whom I please. Can you just be honest with me? You are still angry about Roberto.”

“Yes, I’m angry,” he said, losing control of his tone for a split second. “You have always known that being a part of this family requires you to put the business first.”

“How can I put the business first, when you won’t even listen to my ideas about how to evolve? If you even bothered to look at the numbers, you would know that Bella Baci will be profitable.”

“You and your little candies,” my father said. “Total lack of judgement.”

I leaned forward onto his desk, stretching my hands across his leather writing pad as if I were reaching across an impassable crevasse. I knew my relationship with my father was damaged. I now feared there was no going back.

“Papa, please listen to me,” I said. “I am sorry I could not marry Roberto. I know you may not understand me, but I am a part of this family. I want us to succeed.” I took a breath.

My father rocked back in his chair, arms crossed.

“My cooking is how I express myself. It’s my art. Bella Baci will help us spread the word about our properties in every city. With volume sales, we will do more than just make money.”

I couldn’t read his face. His lips were drawn in a thin line, but at least he was still listening. “Since I left Roberto, you have cut me out of all decisions. You dismissed me in front of the board, in front of everyone.”

“Bella, please.” My father rolled his eyes.

“I am not putting anything at risk with Dylan. I am building a brand with Bella Baci that matters. People love my work, Papa. When they eat my candies, the taste, the texture, the aroma of the chocolate, they all come together to form memories.”

“Bella, if we don’t have a family business, there will be no memories for you to capture. Please, stop.” He put both his hands on the edge of his desk.

I clamped my mouth shut. I understood know that I had been foolish to think that my father wanted to engage in a conversation. He had something he needed. I was here to follow orders.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

“You and Roberto were meant to take the helm of this business.”

“Papa, please. Not this again.”

“I did not call you here to command you to marry him,” he said., “Although if you had, we wouldn’t be facing any of these problems right now.”

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