My mother continued.
“You aren’t related to us by blood.”
“I’m marrying Roman.”
“And Theo is his son.”
“That’s a legal relationship.”
“So would your marriage be.”
I pulled out a chair.
“Sit down, Camilla.”
She hesitated.
Then sat.
I remained standing.
“You said you were protecting the family. From what?”
She glanced at Vivian.
“I didn’t know your circumstances.”
“My adoption should not be the fact that makes you reconsider what you did to my son.”
Her face tightened.
I leaned forward.
“If I were related to everyone in this house by blood, he would still have had the same right to that chair.”
My mother nodded.
Camilla looked down.
For the first time that night, she seemed to understand that the revelation had not created an exception.
It had exposed the rule.
Her explanation changed.
She said she wanted a smaller dinner.
Then a more formal dinner.
Then time with adults.
Each version avoided the sentence she had actually spoken.
I asked why she placed Theo’s setting beyond the service door.
“He likes the staff.”
“So do I.”
“They’re comfortable with him.”
“So am I.”
She looked irritated.
“You can’t pretend he understands every conversation at this table.”
“Neither do I. That doesn’t make me a guest in my own family.”
My mother watched quietly.
Then Camilla said:
“You’re letting a child determine the shape of our marriage.”
I looked toward the staircase.
“He was waiting for dinner.”
She pressed her fingers against the table.
“I need to know where I stand.”
“You stood between him and his chair.”
“That is not fair.”
“No,” I said. “It wasn’t.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked about Theo’s history folder.
Camilla’s expression changed.
“He told you?”
