Chapter 2

“Leave?”

Luca repeated the word as though he hadn’t understood it.

Sophie nodded.

“After you get married.”

“Sweetheart, where would you go?”

She looked at Vanessa.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to say.”

That was the moment Luca stopped trying to keep his anger out of his face.

He placed the blue envelope flat on the table.

“Vanessa, what is she talking about?”

Vanessa took a slow breath.

“Briarfield.”

The name meant nothing to me.

Luca frowned.

“What about Briarfield?”

“The school I mentioned last month. The one with the residential support program.”

“You showed me a brochure.”

“Yes.”

“For children having difficulties after a loss.”

“Yes, Luca.”

“I thought we were discussing counseling.”

“We were.”

“Then why does my daughter believe she’s leaving home?”

Vanessa looked toward Sophie.

“Because she misunderstood a conversation.”

Sophie immediately shook her head.

“I didn’t.”

“Sweetheart—”

“You said I could take three things from my room.”

Vanessa’s expression tightened.

“I said we could make a list of the things you’d want if you went for a visit.”

“You told me not to pack Mommy’s stocking.”

Luca turned sharply.

“What stocking?”

I knew exactly which one.

Every Christmas, Sophie hung a red felt stocking that Claire had sewn when she was three.

It had a white cuff and tiny embroidered stars.

One of the stars was almost falling off.

Sophie loved that stocking more than any expensive present I’d ever seen arrive at the mansion.

“Vanessa said it was too old,” Sophie whispered.

“I said you should choose things that would make you feel comfortable in a new environment.”

“But it makes me comfortable.”

Luca leaned forward.

“Of course it does.”

Vanessa pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“This is precisely what I was trying to address. Sophie has held on to every single object from Claire’s life. Sometimes she sleeps with that stocking in June.”

“She was six when her mother died,” Luca said.

“I know how old she was.”

“Then stop speaking about her grief as though it’s a housekeeping problem.”

Vanessa flinched.

For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.

Then I remembered Sophie kneeling on the kitchen floor, searching for a dropped needle because she didn’t want Vanessa to discover she was making the tie.

I remembered the child asking me whether fathers ever stopped loving their daughters after remarriage.

I’d told her no.

But I hadn’t understood why she was asking.

Luca turned to me.

“Emily, have you heard Sophie mention Briarfield?”

“No, sir.”

“Has she talked about leaving?”

I hesitated.

“She asked whether children were allowed to take sewing kits to boarding school.”

Sophie’s cheeks turned red.

“I was just asking.”

“I know, honey,” I said gently.

Luca looked devastated.

“When was this?”

“Last Thursday.”

He rubbed a hand over his face.

Last Thursday.

I remembered it clearly.

Luca had returned from a business trip that evening.

Sophie waited outside his study holding a drawing she’d made at school.

He’d kissed the top of her head, told her he had an important meeting, and promised to see it at breakfast.

Breakfast had been canceled because he left before seven.

I could see that memory returning to him.

“Why didn’t you ask me, sweetheart?” he said.

Sophie looked at the table.

“Vanessa said you were busy deciding.”

“Deciding what?”

“Whether I was ready.”

Luca shook his head.

“Ready for what?”

“To be away.”

He looked toward his fiancée.

Vanessa’s voice grew firmer.

“Luca, you cannot keep pretending everything has been fine. Sophie has been unhappy for months.”

“Because she’s being told there’s no room for her mother’s memory in this house.”

“She was unhappy before that.”

The statement landed heavily.

And I knew it contained some truth.

Sophie still cried on Claire’s birthday.

She became quiet when she saw other children with their mothers.

Sometimes she asked me questions about death that I wasn’t qualified to answer.

Grief didn’t disappear because a family was wealthy.

But I had also seen Sophie laugh while baking cookies, proudly show Luca her schoolwork, and spend an entire afternoon planning the blue ribbon for his tie.

She wasn’t a child who needed to be removed from the people she loved.

She was a child who needed those people to listen.

“Did Briarfield recommend that she live there?” Luca asked.

Vanessa looked away.

“They said residential support might be appropriate.”

“Did they meet her?”

“A preliminary assessment was arranged.”

Luca stared at her.

“You arranged an assessment without telling me?”

“I was trying to gather information.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That Sophie was struggling with a family transition.”

He glanced at the blue envelope.

“You gave her a list of things she had to stop doing to make our family happy.”

Vanessa said nothing.

Luca’s voice dropped.

“Was that part of their advice?”

“No.”

“Then whose idea was it?”

“Mine.”

Sophie began rubbing the handkerchief between her fingers again.

Luca gently took it before another thread came loose.

“Sweetheart, I need you to understand something. No school is going to decide where you live without me talking to you.”

She looked up.

“Even if they’re already expecting me?”

He froze.

“Why would they be expecting you?”

Sophie glanced toward the sideboard.

“Because the lady sent the letter.”

Vanessa pushed back her chair.

“Sophie, we’ve been over this.”

But the little girl had already reached into the sewing tin.

She pulled out a cream-colored envelope with an embossed green tree.

“I wasn’t supposed to show you until Saturday,” she whispered.

Luca opened it.

He read the first paragraph.

Then the second.

I watched the color leave his face.

At the top, beneath the school’s name, were three printed lines.

ARRIVAL: MONDAY, 9:00 A.M.

Luca slowly lowered the letter.

He looked at Vanessa.

“Why does this school think I’ve already agreed to send my daughter away?”

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