Chương 4
“I know how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to keep the foundation from becoming collateral damage.”
“My daughter was taped to a chair at a foundation gala.”
Silence.
“Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not collateral.”
He did not answer.
After the call, Natalie found Sophie sitting on the bathroom counter trying to peel adhesive from her wrist.
“Stop picking.”
“It’s sticky.”
“I know.”
Natalie soaked a washcloth in warm water and held it gently against the skin.
Sophie watched her reflection.
“Do I have school?”
Natalie had forgotten it was Friday.
“You don’t have to go.”
“Will everybody know?”
The question landed harder than Natalie expected.
“I don’t know.”
“My class doesn’t watch the news.”
“No.”
“Except Mason watches everything because his dad lets him have TikTok.”
Natalie blinked.
“Mason is seven.”
“He says he’s eight online.”
“That seems legally airtight.”
Sophie smiled, then became serious again.
“Can I stay home?”
“Yes.”
Natalie called the school.
She told the attendance secretary Sophie was ill.
It was the first lie of the day and not the last.
At nine twenty, a woman from child protective services called. She explained that someone would need to interview Sophie and Natalie, separately if appropriate, and that the report named Eleanor as the alleged person responsible.
Natalie wrote notes on the back of an electric bill.
At nine forty-seven, a detective from the city police department called about “the incident involving your daughter and an alleged assault at the Whitmore gala.”
Natalie closed her eyes.
“Which assault?”
The detective was quiet for half a second.
“Both, Ms. Brooks.”
By ten thirty, a courier delivered a letter from Eleanor’s attorney.
Natalie nearly refused it.
Instead she signed.
The envelope contained three pages of carefully phrased language about “an emotionally charged family disagreement,” “physical contact initiated by Ms. Brooks,” “potentially misleading public allegations,” and a request that all communication go through counsel.
There was also an offer.
Eleanor would not pursue a complaint regarding the slap if Natalie agreed not to make public accusations until “the facts could be responsibly established.”
Natalie read the sentence three times.
Then she called a lawyer.
Not the family lawyer.
Not anyone the Whitmore Foundation had ever paid.
She found Rebecca Cho through a friend from Sophie’s school who had once used her during a custody dispute.
Rebecca answered from what sounded like a moving vehicle.
“You’re the aquarium woman.”
Natalie sat down.
“That’s me.”
“I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“It was accurate.”
“Did you receive anything in writing?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t answer it.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. Police?”
“Called.”
“Child services?”
“Called.”
“Media?”
“About sixty.”
“Don’t talk to them.”
“My mother’s version is everywhere.”
“Your mother’s version or the internet’s version?”
Natalie paused.
“I don’t know.”
“That distinction matters.”
Rebecca told her to preserve everything: messages, photographs, clothes, the medical paperwork, the duct tape if she had it.
Natalie looked toward the kitchen trash.
The white dress was still inside.
“I threw the dress away.”
“Is the trash gone?”
“No.”
“Then retrieve it, put it in a clean paper bag, and don’t do anything else to it.”
Natalie stared at the garbage can.
“Great.”
“You’re going to feel ridiculous doing some of this.”
“I already do.”
“That’s survivable.”
Natalie hung up and pulled her daughter’s expensive dress from beneath coffee grounds and an empty yogurt carton.
She stood in the kitchen holding it by two fingers.
Sophie came in.
“I thought we threw that away.”
“We did.”
“Then why did it come back?”
“Lawyers.”
Sophie considered this explanation and apparently found it sufficient.
Natalie placed the dress in a grocery bag.
Her mother’s first personal message came at 11:03.
I am trying to protect you from making an irreversible mistake.
Natalie typed:
You taped my child to furniture.
She stopped.
Sophie had said a man used the tape.
Precision mattered now.
You ordered someone to restrain Sophie with tape.
She sent it.
Eleanor responded three minutes later.
I ordered no such thing. I told staff to keep her seated. An employee exercised poor judgment. I will not accept responsibility for another adult’s decision, and neither should you.
Natalie read the message until the words blurred.
The first crack in Sophie’s version had appeared.
Or in Eleanor’s.
At noon Rachel Donnelly called.
Natalie almost did not answer.
“Hi,” Rachel said.
“Hi.”
“I deserve whatever you want to say.”
“I don’t have anything organized.”
“That’s okay.”
Natalie sat at the dining table.
Rachel spoke quickly at first, then slower.
She had been near Eleanor during the donor reception. She remembered Sophie wandering from the VIP table. She remembered Eleanor telling an event worker to “keep that child in the chair until Natalie is done.” She had not heard Eleanor say tape.
“Who was the worker?”
“I don’t know. He had a utility belt.”
“Aquarium staff?”
“Maybe event production.”
“Did you see him tape her?”
“No.”
“Did you see Sophie taped before you grabbed me?”
“No.”
Natalie closed her eyes.
Rachel continued, “I saw Eleanor standing near the chair afterward.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking to Senator Clayborne.”
Natalie almost groaned.
“Of course she was.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“All right.”
“No. Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I get it.”
Natalie rubbed her forehead.
“Why did you grab me?”
Rachel was silent long enough that Natalie thought the call had dropped.
“Your mother told me you were having some kind of panic episode.”
Natalie stared at the wall.
“What?”
“She said you’d been unstable since Evan died.”
For a moment Natalie could not speak.
Rachel hurried on.
“I didn’t know what she meant. You were shouting. Amanda moved first. I thought—God, this sounds terrible.”
“It sounds exactly like what happened.”
“She said Sophie was frightened of you.”
Natalie’s mouth went dry.
“Was Sophie looking at me?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
“I’m trying.”
Rachel began crying quietly.
Natalie felt no desire to comfort her.
“Rachel.”
“Yes.”
“Was my daughter trying to get to me?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
May you like
Natalie looked down at her hand.
The cut in her palm had been covered with a butterfly bandage.
