“No, you don’t, but you’re going to,” he continued, smiling now. “Don’t you stand there and talk about yourself like that and expect me to just sit here and listen. I won’t let you tear yourself down and act like you’ve got a right to do so. Do you know who you sounded like just now? You sounded like your mother, and you aren’t your mother. Even though she’s out of your life, that woman’s poison still looms over you and I’m not about to let it continue.” He looked at her. “I probably should have said something before but...this saboteur and the online stuff... I wonder if it might be Gloria?”

Kim’s eyes widened at this idea, which, she had to be honest, had never even crossed her mind.

Could it be that her mother was behind all the recent problems with Villa Dolce Vita? Punishing her for rejecting the family by trying to upend the grand launch? It was possible, but Kim couldn’t really see it.

Underhandedness wasn’t at all Gloria’s style, to say nothing of the fact that she and Kim’s dad had made good on their promise to cut her out of their lives all those years ago.

The Westons hadn’t attended Kim and Gabriel’s wedding; they didn’t even bother to reply to the invite. Which at the time had been hurtful, yet no real surprise to Kim.

Her parents had just got on with their lives, as if their daughter had never existed. So what would have changed in the meantime for her mother to want to mess things up for her, after all these years?

“I don’t think it could be her,” she told Gabe wearily. “But at this point, I really have no idea.” What with Antonio’s secrecy, Emilia’s accusation, and the ongoing weirdness between her old friends, Kim wasn’t sure of anyone anymore.

It seemed the only constant in her life was Gabriel.

Now he stood up and held her face with both his hands, turning it up to his. “Well, anyone who does try to hurt you has got me to answer to. I love you, Kim. Our daughter loves you, too. You may not be there the way I’d have liked over the last couple of years, I’ll admit that, but I know you love us. I also know you and have been aware for a long time that you felt inadequate as a mom. I tried to help you, to take it slow and not rush you. But maybe I was wrong to do that. Maybe I should have forced you to face your fears from the start, but I didn’t think you were ready.”

“What’re you saying?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.