Chapter 7
Sophie started therapy the next week.
Dr. Lane had a soft voice and a room full of dolls.
Sophie picked a small girl doll and put it under a toy table.
Then she placed a tall blond doll beside it.
“Bad lady,” she said.
Dr. Lane asked, “What does the girl need?”
Sophie looked at me through the glass.
“Daddy.”
I broke.
I had built towers, bought companies, crushed competitors, and negotiated with men twice my age.
But I had not protected the one person who needed me most.
After the session, Dr. Lane said, “Children often blame themselves.”
My throat tightened.
“She asked if she was bad.”
“She needs repetition. Safety is built by proof.”
So I became proof.
I canceled trips.
Moved meetings home.
Ate every meal with Sophie until she stopped checking my face before taking bites.
I threw away the dog bowl.
Then Sophie asked where it went.
“In the trash.”
“Can it come back?”
“No.”
She thought about it.
“Good.”
Mrs. Bell returned full-time.
She cried when she heard what happened.
“I should not have taken vacation.”
“No,” I said. “You should have been able to.”
Vanessa had timed it.
My trip.
Mrs. Bell’s absence.
My mother’s visit.
Every piece had been arranged.
That made the next discovery worse.
Marcus found a draft petition on Vanessa’s laptop.
Request to suspend Richard Sterling as sole trustee of Sophie Claire Sterling Trust.
Reason listed:
Emotional impairment following spouse’s death.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
They were not only after Sophie’s money.
They were after Sophie herself.
