On the screen, Sophie clutched Julian closer.
“He needs a doctor,” she said.
Penelope’s face hardened.
“He needs stability. Discipline. A mother who doesn’t tremble every time a baby makes noise.”
“He has a fever.”
“You have a fever,” Penelope snapped. “A fever of weakness. A sickness of attention-seeking.”
Then she twisted Sophie’s hair again.
My wife winced but made no sound.
That silence destroyed me.
Not because it was quiet.
Because it had been trained into her.
I stepped out of the car without remembering opening the door. The parking garage tilted around me. A man from legal called my name from somewhere behind me, but I didn’t turn.
My driver, Marcus, saw my face and stopped mid-step near the elevator.
