Chapter 3 - THE SISTER WHO WOULD NOT BE SILENCED
Sophie Carter was nineteen years old, five feet tall, and possessed the stubbornness of three grown men.
She was also the bravest person I knew.
When our mother died, Sophie was finishing high school.
She wanted to become a nurse.
Not because anyone expected her to.
Because she remembered how the hospital nurses treated Mom during her final hours.
One nurse sat beside Sophie when she couldn't stop crying.
Another brought her a blanket.
A third quietly explained what was happening without pretending there were answers nobody could give.
Sophie never forgot.
Now she attended Westbridge Community College, worked weekends at a grocery store, and studied until midnight.
She was determined.
Intelligent.
And absolutely furious when I told her Ryan had come to the Moretti estate.
"You should've called me!"
I sat beside her in the campus cafeteria.
"I didn't want to frighten you."
She stared at me.
"Elena, he already came to school."
I looked down.
She softened.
"You're trying to protect me."
"Of course."
"But I can't help if you keep deciding what I should know."
The words hurt because they were true.
For years, I'd treated Sophie like a child.
After Mom died, I became responsible for everything.
Rent.
Bills.
Food.
Transportation.
School fees.
I loved her so fiercely that I'd begun confusing protection with making every decision alone.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Sophie took my hand.
"Then tell me."
So I did.
I explained the debt.
The threats.
The messages.
The appearance of Daniel Bellamy.
And Alessandro's connection to Carter-Ridge.
Sophie listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she looked pale.
"Mom was investigating something."
"Maybe."
"And Ryan knew?"
"Possibly."
She looked toward the window.
Then whispered, "I never liked him."
I smiled sadly.
"You told me."
"Repeatedly."
"I know."
She squeezed my hand.
"He made you feel small."
My eyes filled.
I looked away.
Sophie continued.
"Every time he came over, you changed."
"How?"
"You stopped laughing."
I covered my mouth.
She looked down.
"I missed you even when you were sitting right beside me."
That broke me.
I began crying.
Sophie moved beside me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
For several minutes, we sat together.
Then she whispered, "We don't have to do this alone anymore."
I nodded.
For the first time, I believed her.
After lunch, we met with an attorney recommended through an independent legal aid service.
Her name was Rebecca Shaw.
She specialized in financial exploitation and domestic abuse cases.
Rebecca reviewed the payment records Ryan had supplied.
Within twenty minutes, she frowned.
"These documents are inconsistent."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
"Several invoices refer to companies that appear to have no connection to your mother's estate."
She examined another page.
"And this loan acknowledgment?"
I nodded.
"Ryan made me sign it."
"When?"
"Six months after Mom died."
"Did you receive independent advice?"
"No."
Rebecca leaned back.
"We need to establish whether the underlying debt existed at all."
Sophie crossed her arms.
"It didn't."
Rebecca smiled gently.
"We'll investigate that."
She also helped us document Ryan's threats and discuss protective legal measures.
For the first time, I understood that I didn't owe Ryan obedience because he'd once helped me.
Kindness wasn't a contract for ownership.
When we finished, Sophie looked at her watch.
"Oh no."
I frowned.
"What?"
"My lab fee."
I stared.
Twenty-eight dollars.
The little expense I'd counted twice that morning.
Sophie looked embarrassed.
"I forgot to pay it."
I opened my purse.
She stopped me.
"Elena."
"What?"
She smiled.
"I already paid it."
I blinked.
"How?"
"With my paycheck."
"But you needed that money for—"
"I rearranged my budget."
I stared.
Sophie laughed.
"See? I'm capable of solving a problem."
My eyes filled.
She hugged me.
"You're allowed to let me grow up."
I smiled through tears.
Then nodded.
"All right."
Outside, the afternoon sun shone over the campus.
For a moment, life felt ordinary.
Then Sophie's phone vibrated.
She looked at the screen.
Her smile vanished.
"Elena."
"What?"
She turned the phone toward me.
An unknown number had sent a photograph.
Our mother's silver laptop.
It sat on a table I didn't recognize.
Beneath the photograph were four words.
May you like
TELL YOUR SISTER GOODBYE.
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