Chapter 4 - THREE BREATHS, THEN HOME
I did not sleep.
By two in the morning, the police had photographed my apartment.
By three, Luca’s attorney had arranged for me to speak with a detective at his house rather than a station.
By four, Matteo had confirmed that my stolen laptop had not connected to the internet.
By five, I had memorized every crack in the ceiling of the guest room.
At six twelve, somebody knocked.
I expected security.
Instead, Sophia entered on crutches.
I sat up.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking.”
“You should not be.”
“Dr. Benton said six steps.”
“How many have you taken?”
Sophia looked guilty.
“From where?”
“The hallway.”
“Sophia.”
“Seventeen.”
I moved quickly.
“Sit.”
She lowered herself onto the end of the bed.
Her legs trembled.
“What happened to six?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“You could have called.”
“I thought you might leave.”
The answer broke something inside me.
“I’m not leaving without telling you.”
She studied my face.
“People say that.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the door.
“Everybody.”
I sat beside her.
“Sophia.”
“Mommy left.”
“She didn’t choose to.”
“Nana left.”
“When?”
“Cancer.”
I knew that from newspapers.
“Dr. Evans left.”
“Who is Dr. Evans?”
“My first therapist.”
“Why?”
“Daddy said she moved.”
The way she said it made me look more closely.
“You don’t think she did?”
Sophia shrugged.
“She told me I was getting better.”
“What did she mean?”
“She said my legs were waking up.”
“When?”
Sophia’s eyes narrowed.
“Before my birthday.”
“How old were you?”
“Five.”
My pulse changed.
“That was almost two years ago.”
She nodded.
“What happened after she left?”
“Dr. Vale came.”
“Who is Dr. Vale?”
“My nerve doctor.”
“What did he say?”
“That Dr. Evans made me confused.”
A quiet alarm began ringing inside me.
“What else?”
“He said standing was dangerous.”
“Was it?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Dr. Benton agree?”
“No.”
“When did Clare become your therapist?”
“Last year.”
“Did Dr. Vale choose her?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Daddy.”
The bedroom door opened.
Luca stood there.
He wore dark pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
He had clearly heard enough.
“Who told you Dr. Evans said you were getting better?”
Sophia looked at him.
“She did.”
“When?”
“She used to make me stand between the bars.”
Luca’s face tightened.
“You never stood.”
“I did.”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Yes.”
“Sophia, I was there.”
“Not every time.”
The room became still.
“How long?”
he asked.
“Three seconds.”
My eyes filled before I could stop them.
Luca knelt.
“You stood when you were five?”
Sophia nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
“No.”
“I told Uncle Dominic.”
Luca closed his eyes.
That name again.
“He said he would tell you.”
“And then Dr. Evans left?”
Sophia nodded.
Luca rose.
“Stay here.”
“Daddy.”
He turned.
She looked afraid.
“Don’t make the scary face.”
His expression softened.
“I’m not angry with you.”
“You look angry.”
“I’m angry at myself.”
He closed the door behind him.
Thirty seconds later, I heard his voice in the hall.
“Find Dr. Evelyn Evans.”
By breakfast, Dr. Benton had arrived.
She examined Sophia’s legs.
Her explanation was far less miraculous than the ballroom guests would have preferred.
Sophia’s spinal cord injury had been incomplete.
Her nerve conduction had never disappeared completely.
Muscle atrophy, chronic pain, neurological weakness, and fear had limited her mobility.
Standing was not impossible.
Walking was extraordinarily difficult.
Running had been reckless.
But the possibility had always existed.
“What happened last night was not magic,” Dr. Benton explained.
“It was years of therapy, adrenaline, emotional motivation, and a child making a terrible decision that happened to work.”
Sophia smiled.
“It worked.”
“Your quadriceps disagree.”
I looked at Luca.
“What did Dr. Vale tell you?”
“That independent walking was unlikely.”
“Unlikely is different from impossible.”
“Yes.”
“And Dr. Evans?”
“I never heard that Sophia had stood.”
Dr. Benton’s face hardened.
“Those notes should exist.”
“Find them.”
“I intend to.”
Luca’s phone rang.
He answered.
Matteo’s voice came through faintly.
“We found Evans.”
Luca put the call on speaker.
“Where?”
“Wisconsin.”
“Did she move?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
A pause.
“She was fired.”
The table became silent.
“By whom?”
“Dominic.”
Luca’s knuckles whitened around the phone.
“Reason?”
“According to her termination paperwork, breach of patient confidentiality.”
Dr. Benton frowned.
“That would trigger a licensing review.”
“None happened.”
Matteo continued.
“I spoke to her husband.”
Luca waited.
“She refuses to speak to the Moretti family.”
“Why?”
“She says the last time she tried, somebody put her fourteen-year-old son in the hospital.”
Sophia’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.
I looked at Luca.
His face emptied.
“Matteo.”
“Yes?”
“Bring her here.”
“She won’t come.”
“Then ask where I can go.”
Another pause.
“She said no.”
“Why?”
“She says she has proof.”
“What proof?”
“Something she took from Sophia’s medical file before she was fired.”
The room seemed to tighten.
Luca’s voice dropped.
“What?”
Matteo answered.
“An audio recording.”
My skin prickled.
“Of what?”
Matteo hesitated.
Then said, “Sophia talking in her sleep after the bridge.”
Sophia stared at the phone.
Luca whispered, “What did she say?”
Matteo’s answer was barely audible.
“She kept repeating a name.”
May you like
“Whose?”
“Dominic’s.”
