Chapter 7: What Sophie Remembered
I rushed into Sophie’s room.
Her eyes were open.
Confused.
Heavy with exhaustion.
“What did you say, sweetheart?”
She looked toward my mother through the glass.
“Grandma had that medicine.”
My mother pushed past the attorney.
“She’s medicated. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
Detective Ortiz blocked her from entering.
“Sophie,” I said gently, “where did you see it?”
“At Grandma’s house.”
“When?”
“The day she measured my flower girl dress.”
My mother’s face went rigid.
Sophie touched the edge of her blanket.
“Grandma said I might get scared at the wedding.”
My stomach turned.
“She said medicine would help me sleep.”
“Did she give it to you?”
Sophie shook her head.
“Aunt Cassandra came in.”
Cassandra was not Sophie’s aunt yet.
But Sophie had been excited to call her that.
“What happened then?”
“They argued.”
“About what?”
Sophie’s eyes closed briefly.
“Cassandra said, ‘You promised nobody would hurt her.’”
My father stepped forward.
“That’s enough.”
Detective Ortiz raised a hand.
“No one interrupts.”
Sophie continued.
“Grandma said Uncle Preston only needed Mommy to look dangerous.”
The room became silent.
My mother’s attorney moved close to her.
“Do not say anything else.”
Ortiz turned toward him.
“Your client is now a person of interest in an attempted abduction and potential drugging.”
My mother laughed once.
“This is absurd.”
“Then you won’t mind coming with us.”
My father stepped between them.
“My wife is not going anywhere.”
Two uniformed officers entered the corridor.
Ortiz’s tone remained calm.
“Yes, she is.”
My mother finally looked at me.
The hatred in her eyes was pure.
Not because she was accused.
Because Sophie remembered.
“You put these ideas in her head,” she said.
I stared at the woman who had given birth to me.
“You were going to drug my child.”
“No.”
“You were going to make her unconscious.”
“I was trying to prevent panic.”
“Before or after Preston framed her?”
Her lips tightened.
“You always twist everything.”
That sentence carried my entire childhood inside it.
Every insult became a misunderstanding.
Every cruelty became discipline.
Every wound became evidence that I was too sensitive.
Detective Ortiz escorted my mother toward the elevator.
My father remained behind.
He looked at Sophie.
Then at me.
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“I told the truth.”
“You destroyed this family.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Your son did.”
His face hardened.
“You’ll regret choosing that child over us.”
That child.
His own granddaughter.
I felt something inside me close forever.
“I choose Sophie over all of you.”
My father stared at me for a long moment.
Then he took out his phone.
“You have until morning to change your statement.”
“Or what?”
May you like
He looked through the glass at Sophie.
“Or the next person who comes for her won’t make the mistake of being seen.”
