Chapter 3

Vanessa didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she reached for the letter.

“Let me see that.”

Luca kept it in his hand.

“Answer me first.”

“Because the admissions office is efficient. They prepare these things before everything is finalized.”

“Then why does it say parental authorization received?”

“I gave them preliminary permission to hold a place.”

“You aren’t her parent.”

The words struck harder than Luca seemed to intend.

Vanessa looked at him.

For a second, the cold composure disappeared.

“No,” she said. “Apparently, I’m not.”

Luca exhaled.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I’ve been planning meals, arranging appointments, sitting with Sophie when she has nightmares, and handling every detail you haven’t had time to handle for eight months.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

He didn’t answer.

Vanessa’s eyes shone.

“I stayed up with her when she had a fever in February. You were in New York. She wouldn’t take her medicine unless someone stayed beside her.”

Sophie looked up.

“I remember.”

“So do I,” Vanessa said softly.

The memory complicated the room.

I remembered that fever, too.

Vanessa had sat beside Sophie’s bed for nearly four hours.

She’d brought her a cool washcloth and read aloud from a book about horses.

I’d thought she was becoming exactly the steady presence Sophie needed.

And perhaps, for a while, she’d wanted to be.

Luca placed the admission letter on the table.

“I appreciate what you’ve done for Sophie. But caring for her doesn’t give you permission to make decisions behind my back.”

Vanessa looked exhausted.

“Then perhaps you should have been making them yourself.”

He accepted that without arguing.

“You’re right about that part.”

The admission seemed to surprise her.

“I’m her father,” he continued. “It’s my responsibility. I should never have left you to guess what I wanted.”

Vanessa leaned back.

“Briarfield is an excellent school, Luca. Small classes. Counselors. A safe campus.”

“She’s ten.”

“And she’s lonely.”

Sophie spoke before anyone else could.

“I’m lonely when Daddy isn’t here.”

Luca went still.

The words were simple.

That made them worse.

He moved his chair beside hers.

“I know I haven’t been home enough.”

“You come home,” Sophie said.

Then she added, “But sometimes you’re still working.”

I turned away slightly.

Some conversations deserve the small mercy of not being watched.

Luca nodded.

“Yes. I do.”

Sophie traced a circle on the tablecloth.

“I didn’t want a new school.”

“Then you aren’t going to one.”

Vanessa shook her head.

“Luca, don’t make promises before you’ve looked at the assessment.”

He looked at her.

“What assessment?”

“The school asked Sophie to answer some questions.”

“Who was with her?”

“I was.”

“Did you tell them I had approved it?”

“I told them you supported getting her help.”

Luca glanced at the letter again.

“Those aren’t the same thing.”

“No,” Vanessa admitted quietly. “They aren’t.”

For several seconds, there was no sound except the faint hum of the ventilation system.

Then Sophie tugged her father’s sleeve.

“Daddy, can I have my sewing tin back when we’re finished?”

“Of course.”

“All of it?”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“The other stuff.”

I looked at the tin.

There were only a few spools, a pincushion, and the blue envelope inside.

Claire’s good embroidery scissors were missing.

So was her measuring tape.

And the little wooden case that held her collection of colored buttons.

I’d seen those objects three days earlier.

“Sophie,” I asked carefully, “where did the rest go?”

“Vanessa said the old things had to be sorted.”

Luca looked toward his fiancée.

“Sorted for what?”

Vanessa pressed her lips together.

“The house is being reorganized after the wedding.”

“Which parts?”

“The guest rooms, the upstairs sitting room, some of the storage.”

“And Sophie’s things?”

“Only the things she won’t need.”

I felt a sudden chill.

Earlier that afternoon, I’d been instructed to put numbered labels on six cardboard cartons upstairs.

The printed inventory called them family storage.

One was labeled S.M.

I’d assumed they contained wedding decorations for Sophie’s room.

Now I wasn’t so certain.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said, “may I show you something?”

Vanessa immediately looked at me.

“Emily, this really doesn’t involve you anymore.”

I met her eyes.

“You asked me to label the cartons.”

Luca turned.

“What cartons?”

“The ones listed on the housekeeping inventory.”

“Where is the inventory?”

“In the service folder, sir.”

“Please bring it.”

I retrieved the gray folder from the sideboard.

My hands weren’t shaking anymore.

Perhaps I was too tired.

Perhaps there are moments when fear simply runs out of space.

I opened the folder to the page I’d initialed that afternoon.

Six cartons.

All from Sophie’s bedroom.

Winter clothing.

Books.

Personal effects.

Sewing materials.

A box marked Claire Moretti — Keepsakes.

Luca read the list in silence.

Then he noticed the column at the far right.

“What’s this?”

“Destination, sir.”

Five cartons were marked STORAGE.

The sixth had a different instruction.

External delivery.

Luca pointed to it.

“What was in this one?”

I checked the description.

“Clothing, school supplies, personal effects, and selected comfort items.”

Sophie leaned forward.

“My blue coat?”

I nodded reluctantly.

“I think so.”

Her face fell.

“That was Mommy’s favorite.”

Luca took a long breath.

“Where is this carton now?”

“In the upstairs hall, sir. It was supposed to be collected with the others.”

“Collected by whom?”

I looked at the shipping reference beneath the destination.

Then I read it aloud.

“Briarfield House. Receiving Department.”

Vanessa stood.

“Luca, this is getting ridiculous. It’s a prepared shipment, not a prison sentence.”

But Sophie was staring at her father.

“Daddy, did they already take my things?”

“Not if I can help it.”

He closed the folder.

Then he saw one final note printed beneath the shipping reference.

His expression changed.

“What does this mean?”

I leaned closer.

Three words appeared beside the carton number.

Luca raised his eyes toward Vanessa.

“You weren’t just sending her belongings. You arranged for Sophie to go with them.”

Share