The Capo’s Daughter Needs No Permission Chapter 18
I didn’t record a video.
And I didn’t rehash the feelings I had already explained too many times.
I made a timeline.
The first image was the metal box my mother had photographed while I was in the hospital.
Inside were five hundred and seventy-six permission slips. Every single one bore my father’s seal—proof that this was not some childhood game, but a system of restrictions on my movement and resources that applied only to me.
The second image was the call log from the night of my ER visit.
From the first call to the fifty-eighth, the timestamps lined up perfectly with my hospital admission and surgery records.
The third image was the education fund notice, the link to the Gucci bag from the group chat, and the time-stamped receipt of the transfer my mother eventually sent me.
The last few images came from the group chat that didn’t include me.
In the public version, I redacted all phone numbers, the Family name, my father’s title, and any business-related details, leaving only the dates and the exact words Ava herself had sent.
The unredacted originals, I submitted through the education fund’s internal channel directly to the managing advisors.
Before I posted, I wrote a single line:
“I’m not asking anyone to believe my feelings. Just look at the dates.”
In less than half an hour, the comments questioning me stopped.
People started placing every sentence from Ava’s video side by side with the chat logs.
She said she hadn’t known I was seriously ill.
But she had known all fifty-eight calls were from me, and she had known Marco blocked me so she wouldn’t lose her game.
She said she had never intended to touch the education fund money.
But the link to the Gucci bag had come from her.
She said the permission slips were just a game.
But five hundred and seventy-six slips collected over three years, each requiring a local capo’s seal for redemption, told a very different story.
Ava quickly deleted her video.
A little while later, she started a livestream.
“Screenshots can be faked!”
“I’m just a girl without parents. Why is everyone trying to destroy me?”
She was crying so hard she could barely form a sentence.
This time, Marco didn’t step in to defend her.