Chương 4
“I’m not angry.”
“You kicked a door open tonight, didn’t you?”
I looked at the office wall.
“How do you know that?”
“You sound like a man who kicked a door open.”
“The latch was weak.”
“Daniel.”
“Fine.”
She sighed.
“I’ll call Marcus.”
Marcus Hill ran Human Resources and had the emotional disposition of someone who considered spreadsheets a form of recreation.
“He’s going to hate me.”
“He already hates everybody.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“It should be.”
I heard typing.
“We meet at eight tomorrow.”
“It’s Christmas.”
“You called me.”
“Right.”
“And Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“Do not email anyone.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Do not text Martin.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Do not tell Claire what you’re considering.”
I looked at my phone.
Three missed calls had become seven.
“No problem there.”
“And do not touch a single personnel file before Marcus and I get there.”
“That feels insulting.”
“It is preventive.”
She hung up.
I stayed in the chair.
For a while, nothing happened.
That felt strange.
My whole body had been running on emergency since Sophie called.
Now there was only the hum of the building’s ventilation system and the occasional click from metal ducts cooling in the ceiling.
Sophie appeared in my doorway.
“Coffee machine won.”
“I noticed.”
“I think it needs an engineering degree.”
“It needs water.”
She looked offended.
“There was no sign.”
“There’s a reservoir.”
“That sounds like something a company owner should label.”
I almost smiled.
Then she saw the divorce papers.
Her expression changed.
“Can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you sad?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Yes.”
“You don’t look sad.”
“I’m trying not to look like anything right now.”
She came farther into the office and sat across from me.
“Do you still love her?”
I looked at the folder.
“I don’t know what I feel.”
“That means yes.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It kind of does.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“And you’re bad at lying.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“Your grandmother used to say that.”
“My mom’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“She liked you.”
“She tolerated me enthusiastically.”
Sophie smiled faintly.
Then her eyes dropped.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Tonight.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I could’ve apologized.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.”
“But then none of this would’ve happened.”
I leaned forward.
“Sophie, look at me.”
She did.
“This did not happen because you defended me.”
Her mouth trembled once.
“I knew Grandpa was trying to get a reaction.”
“That still doesn’t make his behavior your responsibility.”
“What about Claire?”
I had no answer ready.
That frightened me more than Martin’s cruelty.
Sophie deserved clarity, and clarity was exactly what I did not have.
“I don’t know why she did what she did.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
She picked at the edge of her sleeve.
“I think she’s always been waiting for me to leave.”
The sentence landed quietly.
No accusation.
No drama.
Just a sixteen-year-old describing the architecture of a home she had lived in for eight years.
“What makes you say that?”
Sophie shrugged.
“She talks about when I go to college a lot.”
“So do I.”
“Different.”
“How?”
“You talk about where I might go.”
She looked down at her hands.
“She talks about my room.”
I stared at her.
“She asked if I wanted new furniture after you leave.”
“No.”
“She said maybe she’d make it into a reading room.”
“When?”
“Like, last month.”
I sat back.
“You never told me.”
“You already had enough going on.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“No.”
“What?”
“You do not decide what I can handle.”
She blinked.
I heard the sharpness in my own voice and hated it immediately.
“Sophie, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.”
“It isn’t.”
She looked toward the window.
I tried again.
“You don’t protect me by hiding things that hurt you.”
She nodded without looking at me.
“That’s literally what you did with Claire’s family.”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
She looked back at me.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
I let out a breath.
“That was accurate.”
She pulled one knee against her chest.
“So what happens now?”
“Tonight?”
“In general.”
“I don’t know.”
“Are we going home?”
“Eventually.”
“Will she be there?”
“Maybe.”
Sophie’s shoulders tightened.
“We can stay somewhere else.”
“Hotel?”
“For tonight.”
“What about Christmas?”
I looked at the dark office beyond her.
“Christmas might be unconventional.”
“Can we get Chinese food?”
“That’s your concern?”
“I haven’t eaten since Grandpa started talking about your truck.”
That made me check the time.
It was nearly midnight.
“You didn’t eat dinner?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were busy planning a corporate massacre.”
“I am not planning a corporate massacre.”
She looked at the report.
“That stack has murder energy.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
It came out short and tired.
She smiled.
For thirty seconds, we were just father and daughter in an empty office making bad jokes on Christmas Eve.
Then my phone started ringing again.
Claire.
Sophie saw the name.
“You should answer.”
“I don’t want to.”
“That’s why you should.”
I gave her a look.
“When did you become eighty?”
“Trauma ages people.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
The phone kept vibrating.
I answered.
“Hello.”
“Where are you?”
Claire sounded furious.
Not frightened.
Not sad.
Furious.
“Safe.”
“Daniel, don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Disappear with Sophie and ignore me.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“I know whose daughter she is.”
The way she said it made my grip tighten around the phone.
“Careful.”
Claire went quiet.
Then she spoke more softly.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it?”
“I’m upset.”
“So is she.”
“I didn’t tell Dad to put her outside.”
“You didn’t stop him.”
“I froze.”
“You sat down.”
“Because everyone was staring at me.”
I looked at Sophie.
She was studying the carpet now, pretending not to listen.
“You chose the audience.”
“That’s not fair.”
May you like
“You gave me divorce papers in front of thirty people.”
“I didn’t know when else you would actually listen.”
