The Crimes of Love and Hate

Chapter Five

SERAFINA- I summoned up the courage and strode into the kitchen, confident, with my terrible embroidery proudly displayed on my dress. My father had just seen a client to the door, no doubt promising him plenty of bootleg alcohol or whatever job he wanted, and was pacing through the kitchen, thinking. I boldly walked up to him.

"Do you like my dress, padre?" , I said mockingly.

"Am I supposed to?", He said coldly, tiredly. "I don't know what you want from me, Serafina. I have given you a good house, food, servants, and yet you still act rashly and have never once thanked me. I am tired, Serafina, of the games you want me to play. I am old and I have business that does not involve a disrespectful and ungrateful daughter", my father said, almost sadly, but with the cold edge that had earned him an empire.

I felt my temper rise in my chest. "I never asked for a manor. I never asked for staff. I asked for you to notice me, to care about me! You wish you had two handsome, clever sons, and one perfect daughter who never spoke. I am not that girl. I am not here to look pretty and sit nicely, Father!" I screamed, my voice hoarse with anger and emotion.

"I act out so you'll notice me! I act out so even for a second, it's like I have a parent that sees me!"I said, my voice tapering off into tears.

"You are disrespectful. You may paint me as unkind, but I simply want others to respect you, though you are incapable of returning the gesture. I am not here to be your mother. I provide for you, but I cannot care for you as you want me to. I-" he stammered, losing his cold and stiff facade for a fraction of a second, "I want you to be cared for, loved. I know your mother could have given you this. But I can't, Serafina. I can't", He said quietly and sadly.

"Fine. Then I don't need you after all. I'm leaving." And before he could protest, I grabbed my satchel and coat and ran down the street, towards the place where our drivers waited.

"Take me to Matteo," I told Kurt, our driver, and he obliged. Maybe he saw me run to the car, or my tears, but he seemed to sense that this was not the time to protest my being alone in the city. And he was right.