Chapter 5 - The First Word in Seven Months
Lorenzo read Isabella’s letter alone.
Marco offered to stay.
Lorenzo told him to leave.
There were moments a man could survive only without witnesses.
He sat on the floor beside Isabella’s boxes, the white stuffed lion in one hand and the letter in the other.
Her handwriting was elegant.
Familiar.
Painfully alive.
Lorenzo,
If Sophie ever becomes seriously ill, there is something you must know. My mother’s family carried a rare inflammatory disorder that was repeatedly misdiagnosed for years. I was tested when I was twenty-six. I carried one of the associated markers.
Lorenzo stopped.
He read on.
This does not mean Sophie has it. It means that if unexplained neurological symptoms ever appear, her doctors should know the family history.
His hands went cold.
Why had Isabella never told him?
The next paragraph answered.
Your father once tried to obtain my private medical records after learning we planned to have a child. He believed any weakness in an heir could become leverage. I never forgave him. I kept the results outside Moretti systems.
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
His father had been dead six years.
And still the old man had found a way to poison another room.
Isabella continued.
I planned to tell you when Sophie was older. If I did not get that chance, the records are with someone named Margaret Ellis. She will understand.
Lorenzo immediately called Marco.
“Find Margaret Ellis.”
“At this hour?”
“Now.”
By morning, they had an address.
Margaret Ellis lived in Maine.
Seventy-four years old.
Retired pediatric neurologist.
Lorenzo had a helicopter prepared before breakfast.
Then Sophie woke.
“Daddy?”
He entered with the white lion.
Her eyes widened.
“You found him.”
“I did.”
He placed it beside Bartholomew.
Sophie touched the white lion carefully.
“Did Mommy make it?”
“She chose it for you.”
Sophie smiled.
Then looked at the envelope in his hand.
“What’s that?”
Lorenzo hesitated.
“A letter from Mommy.”
“For me?”
“Partly.”
Sophie stared at him.
“Read it.”
Lorenzo’s throat tightened.
“Not all of it.”
“Why?”
“Because some of it is grown-up stuff.”
She considered that.
Then pointed toward one paragraph.
“That one.”
He followed her finger.
It was the final paragraph.
He read aloud.
“Tell Sophie I loved her before she had a name. Tell her she never has to be brave every minute. Tell her courage can look like crying, resting, asking for help, or laughing when everyone expects silence.”
Sophie’s eyes filled with tears.
Lorenzo stopped.
She whispered, “Mommy knew I’d be sick?”
“No.”
“Then why did she say brave?”
“Because everybody gets scared.”
Sophie looked away.
“I’m scared.”
The words hit Lorenzo harder than anything else.
He sat beside her.
“What scares you?”
Sophie did not answer.
He waited.
A year ago he might have filled the silence with instructions.
Now he remembered Elena.
Mia had never demanded an answer.
So Lorenzo waited.
Eventually Sophie whispered:
“Sleeping.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes when I wake up, people are standing here.”
Lorenzo’s body went still.
“What people?”
Sophie’s eyes moved toward the door.
“Men.”
His pulse changed.
“Which men?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doctors?”
She shook her head.
“How many?”
“Sometimes one.”
Lorenzo struggled to keep his voice calm.
“When?”
“At night.”
Every instinct in him screamed.
But he kept his face soft.
“What do they do?”
“Look at the machines.”
“Do they touch you?”
She hesitated.
“My arm.”
Lorenzo’s stomach turned.
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
“What did they do?”
“One had a little light.”
She pointed toward the IV equipment.
“He put something there.”
Lorenzo rose so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
Sophie flinched.
He immediately stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
She stared.
“Are you mad?”
“Not at you.”
She looked frightened anyway.
Lorenzo knelt.
“Listen to me. You did nothing wrong.”
She nodded.
“Do you remember his face?”
“No.”
“Voice?”
Sophie’s eyes narrowed.
“He said I should sleep.”
Lorenzo’s blood ran cold.
“What else?”
She thought.
“He smelled like oranges.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Oranges?”
“Like Marco’s Christmas candy.”
A detail.
Small.
Possibly meaningless.
But details kept people alive.
He kissed Sophie’s forehead.
“I need to make a phone call.”
“Are you leaving?”
“For twenty minutes.”
She grabbed his sleeve.
“Mia coming?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
Sophie released him.
Lorenzo walked into the hallway.
Marco was waiting.
“Cancel Maine.”
Marco stared.
“What happened?”
“Sophie remembers unauthorized visitors.”
Marco’s expression hardened.
“At night.”
He understood immediately.
“How long?”
“She doesn’t know.”
Lorenzo lowered his voice.
“She says one of them injected something into her IV.”
Marco swore quietly.
“Get every medication record.”
“Already requested after Cross.”
“Not requested. Seized.”
Marco nodded.
“And find out who wears citrus cologne.”
Marco paused.
“What?”
“Sophie remembers oranges.”
“That could be fifty people.”
“Then check fifty.”
Elena arrived with Mia an hour later.
She knew immediately something was wrong.
Lorenzo was standing outside Sophie’s room with three security men.
“What happened?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Elena stared at him.
“That sentence usually means the opposite.”
Lorenzo almost told her to leave.
Instead he surprised himself.
“Sophie remembered someone entering at night.”
Elena’s face changed.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
Mia squeezed between them and entered the room.
Sophie immediately smiled.
Elena looked through the doorway.
“She trusts her.”
“I know.”
“Maybe she’ll remember more when she’s calm.”
Lorenzo turned.
“You think I should ask her through Mia?”
“No.”
Elena shook her head.
“I think you shouldn’t interrogate a five-year-old.”
The word offended him.
“I wasn’t interrogating her.”
“You had three security men outside the door.”
Lorenzo glanced behind him.
She had a point.
He dismissed them.
Elena’s shoulders relaxed.
“You can protect her without making her feel like she’s in danger every second.”
Lorenzo looked at Sophie.
Mia had put both lions on the blanket and was making them argue.
Sophie laughed.
Again.
That sound.
Every time, Lorenzo felt something inside him come back to life.
His phone vibrated.
Marco.
Lorenzo answered.
“Yes?”
“We found something.”
“What?”
“A discrepancy in Sophie’s medication logs.”
His eyes sharpened.
“How big?”
“Large enough that you need to see it.”
Lorenzo looked toward the girls.
“What kind of discrepancy?”
Marco’s answer was quiet.
“The medication delivered to the estate isn’t the same quantity the pharmacy says was ordered.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Marco continued.
“And Daniel Cross signed for several shipments after he supposedly resigned.”
The room seemed suddenly colder.
The unauthorized access.
The hidden family medical history.
The strange nighttime visits.
None of them were separate anymore.
Somebody had been doing something to Sophie.
May you like
And for the first time, Lorenzo wondered whether his daughter’s silence had ever been caused entirely by her illness.
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