Chapter 24
Massimo stepped down from Lombardi Atelier when Noah was twenty-one.
Everyone assumed Isabella would replace him.
She did not.
That caused more outrage than the original scandal.
Family members called.
Directors whispered.
Collectors asked.
Massimo said nothing publicly until the board meeting.
Then:
“She doesn't want the job.”
One cousin stared.
“She's your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“She's the strongest designer.”
“Probably.”
“Then?”
Massimo looked toward Isabella.
She sat two seats away as an outside creative partner.
Not heir apparent.
Not incoming chair.
“She said no.”
The cousin waited.
Apparently expecting another sentence.
There wasn't one.
The board selected a professional chief executive.
Isabella retained her independent studio.
Lombardi Atelier licensed some of her work.
Under contracts reviewed by people who were not her father.
Good.
Noah watched from the back.
He studied industrial design.
Not jewelry.
Massimo had opinions.
He kept most of them private.
Mostly.
After the meeting Noah asked:
“You wanted Mom chair?”
“Yes.”
“Mad?”
“Disappointed.”
“Same as mad?”
“No.”
Progress.
Then:
“Do you want me?”
Massimo became very still.
The old instinct rose.
Grandson.
Name.
History.
Continuation.
He could see the answer waiting.
Yes.
Of course.
Instead:
“Do you want it?”
“No.”
That hurt.
Good.
Massimo nodded.
“Then no.”
Noah looked suspicious.
“You sure?”
“No.”
They both laughed.
Years earlier Grant had accused Massimo of making every room belong to him.
That accusation had been weaponized.
It had also contained truth.
Massimo had spent years separating those things.
A person could use a true criticism manipulatively.
The criticism did not become false.
At twenty-two Noah presented a university project.
Adaptive retail displays.
Low-height cases.
Moveable surfaces.
Spaces designed for children and wheelchair users without making either group feel separated.
Massimo attended.
So did Isabella.
Grant sat three rows back.
No one arranged the seating.
Noah saw all three.
He did not move them together.
That mattered.
Afterward Massimo said:
“You could use this at Atelier.”
Noah looked at him.
Massimo stopped.
Then tried again.
“If you ever want to pitch it, send it through procurement.”
Noah smiled.
“Better.”
Grant said nothing.
Then later:
“I'm proud of you.”
Noah nodded.
“Thanks.”
No competition.
No name argument.
No discussion of whose world Noah belonged to.
May you like
Just work.
That was newer than any of them admitted.
