Like Her Mother with Tables, the Dreaded Milania Sure Can Flip a Pancake

When it comes to the children of the Real Housewives franchise, many are adored and some are despised, but none are as feared and respected as Milania Giudice of New Jersey. Welcome to Catching Up with Milania, where (almost) every week, we—as tribute—will be checking in with my hero, Bravo’s dreaded daughter.

The storm was raging far from home this week and the Dreaded Milania was feeling unsettled.


Far away, in the land of Vermont, she could hear a hurricane building strength. It was fueled by smoke and blood the color and thickness of tar—excrement from the twisting bowels of the Beast known as Jacqueline.

So why then, in the face of such chaos, was she feeling no joy?

Huddling over the kitchen hearth, she busied herself with pancake batter, pouring it on the griddle and watching it bubble and brown. A smile pulled at her lips. Pancakes. It was a human indulgence, yes, but it was one of the few she occasionally allowed herself. Well, her smile faltered, that’s not so true anymore, is it?

Bravo’s Dreaded Daughter knew she was growing softer and it scared her. Weeks ago, as she held hands of Nicholas, son of Jacqueline (not that that’s his fault), she felt a spark of...compassion. Bile rose in her throat at the the word, but she swallowed it back. No, she told her self. No, I am a dæmon of righteous spite. Compassion is as foreign to me as sanity is to Nicholas’ mother.

These reassurances, she knew, were in vain.

Mind and heart heavy with sorrow, she allowed her eyes to wander from the griddle to Joe Giudice, the mortal man they called her father. He—vile in his own right—would understand and accept her terrifying glory. He’d refuse to let her go soft.


“I’m gonna kick you...really hard...where the sun don’t shine,” she hissed at him, but the words did nothing to chase away the horrible feeling that was overwhelming her.

“I love you,” she whispered, hopeful that vomiting up the words would rid her of this illness known as “feeling.” When it didn’t, she bit her tongue so hard she bled.


“Go get me some water,” she then commanded, but it was too late. Joe—usually too stupid and muscle-necked to reply—had heard her words and responded with equal affection. What could she do now that they were so eternally bonded?

For the first time in her immortal life, the Dreaded Milania found herself in a prison she could not escape. She found herself loving and loved.

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