Chapter 2 - The Rules Sofia Never Told Him
“Daddy?”
Alexander looked down.
Sofia was still clinging to him.
“Yes, baby?”
“Am I in trouble?”
The question hurt more than anything Veronica had said.
“No, sweetheart. You haven't done anything wrong.”
“But I didn't finish.”
“Finish what?”
“Her shoes.”
Alexander swallowed.
He wanted to ask a hundred questions.
How long had this been happening?
Who had hurt her face?
What else had Veronica done while he was away?
But Sofia was shaking.
He knew she needed safety more than another frightening conversation.
“You don't have to clean anybody's shoes,” he told her. “Not Veronica's. Not mine. Nobody's.”
Sofia studied him uncertainly.
“Even if they're dirty?”
“Even then.”
She rested her head against his shoulder.
In the living room, Veronica was speaking on her phone.
Alexander heard her telling someone that he had come home acting crazy.
He didn't return to argue.
Instead, he called his younger sister, Naomi.
“Can you come over?” he asked.
“What's wrong?”
“It's Sofia.”
Naomi heard something in his voice.
“I'm leaving now.”
Twenty minutes later, she arrived.
Naomi Vaughn had always been close to her niece. Before Veronica entered their lives, Naomi regularly took Sofia to the park, helped with bedtime, and attended nearly every preschool event.
Recently, those visits had become less frequent.
Veronica had insisted that Sofia needed a consistent household routine.
Alexander had agreed without giving it much thought.
Now he wondered what he had allowed to happen.
When Naomi saw Sofia's face, her expression changed.
“Alexander,” she said quietly, “where did those bruises come from?”
“That's what I'm trying to find out.”
Naomi crouched beside her niece.
“Hey, sunshine.”
Sofia reached for her.
Naomi embraced her gently.
“You want me to help you find your favorite pajamas?”
Sofia nodded.
As Naomi took Sofia upstairs, Alexander returned to the living room.
Veronica stood near the window.
The wine had soaked into the rug.
Broken glass still glittered on the marble.
Alexander took a photograph of the scene, including the cloth and shoe-cleaning bottle. He knew the photograph couldn't prove how his daughter had been treated, but he wanted to preserve what he had found.
Veronica folded her arms.
“Are you seriously taking pictures?”
“Yes.”
“Alexander, you're overreacting.”
“My four-year-old daughter was kneeling at your feet.”
“She spilled juice on my shoes.”
“So you made her polish them?”
“I was teaching her responsibility.”
He stared at her.
“Responsibility doesn't look like fear.”
Veronica glanced toward the staircase.
“She cries whenever somebody tells her no. You spoil her.”
Alexander felt his anger returning.
But he remembered Sofia screaming when the glass shattered.
He lowered his voice.
“I need you to leave tonight.”
Veronica blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Sofia needs a calm house. You can stay with your sister. We'll arrange for you to collect your things.”
“You can't seriously throw away our relationship over a child's tantrum.”
“This isn't about a tantrum.”
Veronica waited for him to soften.
He didn't.
An hour later, she left with a weekend bag.
Alexander cleaned the broken glass after making sure Sofia remained upstairs with Naomi.
Then he called the pediatrician's after-hours service and arranged for Sofia to be examined the following morning.
That evening, he sat beside his daughter's bed.
Her favorite stuffed rabbit lay beneath her arm.
Above her pillow, glow-in-the-dark stars decorated the wall.
Alexander had placed those stars there when Sofia was two.
Back then, she had insisted that every star needed a name.
Now she lay unusually still, watching him.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are you going away tomorrow?”
“No.”
“What about Monday?”
He hesitated.
He had a business trip scheduled.
Three days in Chicago.
A meeting he'd considered important that morning.
“I'll take care of that,” he said. “Right now, I'm staying with you.”
Sofia looked at her rabbit.
“Veronica says big girls don't cry.”
Alexander brushed a curl away from her forehead.
“Everybody cries sometimes.”
“She says crying makes people tired of you.”
He felt his chest tighten.
“Did she say that to you?”
Sofia nodded.
He kissed her forehead.
“You could cry every day for a hundred years, and I would still love you.”
She didn't smile.
But after a moment, she reached for his hand.
He stayed until she fell asleep.
Downstairs, Naomi was waiting.
“There's something you should know,” she said.
Alexander sat beside her.
“Remember Denise?”
Denise Carter had been Sofia's caregiver before Veronica announced that she'd found another job.
“What about her?”
“She contacted me a few weeks ago. She sounded worried about Sofia.”
Alexander frowned.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried. You said Veronica had everything under control.”
He remembered that conversation.
He'd been rushing between meetings.
He had barely listened.
Naomi handed him her phone.
On the screen was Denise's message.
I didn't leave because I wanted another job. Veronica told me not to come back after I stopped her from grabbing Sofia.
Alexander read it twice.
Then he looked at his sister.
The bruises on Sofia's face were horrifying.
But the message suggested something worse.
May you like
There had been warning signs.
And he had missed them.
