Chapter 10 - SOPHIE'S MOTHER
Sophie’s biological mother was Claire Bennett.
She died four years earlier.
Official cause.
Pulmonary embolism after childbirth.
No one had questioned it.
Why would they?
Claire had been hospitalized.
Doctors documented the clot.
Ethan had watched her die.
Vanessa had not even known him then.
At least, that was what he believed.
Detectives rebuilt the timeline.
Vanessa worked for a private patient advocacy company.
Claire’s hospital used it.
Vanessa had access to patient scheduling.
Not medication.
Not directly.
Marcus had invested in the company.
Then investigators found an email.
Marcus to Vanessa.
BENNETT IS VULNERABLE.
His wife was still alive when he wrote it.
That sentence nearly destroyed Ethan.
But evidence did not show Vanessa caused Claire’s embolism.
Instead, something colder emerged.
Claire had survived the first clot.
Doctors wanted her transferred for emergency treatment.
A delay occurred.
Insurance authorization.
Forty-seven minutes.
The patient advocacy company had flagged the transfer for review.
Vanessa’s login.
Could those forty-seven minutes have changed the outcome?
Doctors could not say with certainty.
That uncertainty was its own torture.
Vanessa denied intentionally delaying anything.
Marcus’s messages suggested otherwise.
MAKE HIM NEED SOMEBODY.
Ethan read it.
Then walked outside the interview room.
He punched a concrete wall.
Once.
Bad idea.
His knuckles split.
Quinn found him holding a paper towel around his hand.
“Feel better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He almost laughed.
She sat beside him.
“They may never charge her for Claire.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t mean nothing happened.”
“I know.”
He hated those words.
Sophie was discharged into Ethan’s care.
No Vanessa.
No mansion staff except Rosa.
Ethan did not take Sophie home.
He rented a small beach cottage under a company name.
Two bedrooms.
Bad plumbing.
Sophie loved it.
“It’s tiny.”
“Yep.”
“My room can hear your room.”
“Yep.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
That one word hurt.
The first night, she woke at 1:06.
Then 2:20.
Then 4:03.
Each time Ethan sat beside her.
No speeches.
Sometimes she talked.
Sometimes she didn’t.
At breakfast she spilled milk.
The glass tipped.
White liquid ran across the table.
Sophie froze.
Her face emptied.
Ethan grabbed a towel.
“That was rude.”
She stared.
“What?”
“The milk.”
He wiped it.
“Just attacked the table for no reason.”
Sophie’s mouth twitched.
Then she started crying.
Ethan sat on the floor with her.
She whispered.
“Vanessa got mad when I spilled.”
“I know.”
“I tried not to.”
“I know.”
Then Sophie said.
“She made me practice.”
“Practice what?”
“Falling.”
Ethan went still.
“Where?”
May you like
Sophie pointed toward the stairs.
