Chapter 3 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO ASKED THE WRONG QUESTION
Sophia did not care about corporate trusts.
She cared about Titan.
“Can I see him?”
Elena stared at her daughter across their small apartment kitchen.
“No.”
“He’s lonely.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He looked lonely.”
“He looked like he wanted to remove someone’s arm.”
“Only doctor arm.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Five-year-olds had dangerous confidence.
Three days had passed since Adrian returned home.
Independent medical team.
Medication locked down.
Dr. Reynolds temporarily suspended from the estate under the harmless explanation of “outside review.”
Nobody publicly accused anyone.
Yet.
Then Dante called Elena.
“Mr. Moretti wants to thank Sophia.”
“No.”
Silence.
Dante sounded almost amused.
“That was fast.”
“She’s five.”
“I know.”
“She isn’t coming into an interrogation.”
“No interrogation.”
“Security room?”
“No.”
“Adults?”
“Me. Adrian. You.”
“And Titan?”
Dante paused.
“Probably.”
Sophia shouted from the other room:
“Yes!”
Elena glared toward the doorway.
“Your daughter has excellent surveillance.”
“Apparently.”
They went.
Not because Adrian commanded.
Because Sophia wanted to see the dog.
Adrian sat on the terrace.
Alive.
Paler than usual.
Titan beside him.
The dog stood when Sophia appeared.
Elena immediately reached for her.
Sophia stopped herself.
Good.
She sat several feet away.
Titan approached first.
Sniffed her hair.
Then lay down beside her.
Adrian watched.
“Traitor.”
Titan ignored him.
Sophia smiled.
“He likes me.”
“Apparently more than me.”
“No. He loves you.”
Adrian’s expression changed slightly.
“How do you know?”
“He was scared when you fell.”
Simple.
Then Sophia asked:
“Why did the doctor make you sick?”
Every adult froze.
Elena said:
“Sophia.”
“What?”
“We don’t know that.”
“But Titan knew.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“No.”
Sophia looked confused.
“Titan knew he didn’t like Dr. Reynolds.”
He paused.
“That is different.”
She thought.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Most adults hated corrections.
Children often only needed clear distinctions.
Then Sophia looked at Titan.
“Did he come before?”
Adrian frowned.
“Who?”
“Doctor.”
“Yes.”
“When Titan got mad?”
Adrian looked at Dante.
Dante’s face changed.
“What do you mean?”
Sophia stroked her notebook.
“I saw him growl before.”
“When?”
“Last time Mommy cleaned big room.”
Elena stared.
“What?”
Sophia pointed toward the hall.
“Doctor gave Mr. Moretti medicine.”
Elena’s memory shifted.
Six weeks earlier.
She had been cleaning outside the library.
Reynolds visited Adrian privately.
Afterward, Titan had been locked in the mudroom because he became “agitated.”
Everyone assumed construction noise upset him.
Sophia had been with Elena that afternoon too.
She had seen Reynolds emerge.
“Anything else?” Adrian asked.
Elena immediately said:
“Don’t lead her.”
Adrian stopped.
Then:
“You’re right.”
He looked at Sophia.
“What do you remember without guessing?”
Sophia concentrated.
“Doctor came out.”
“Yes.”
“Titan barked.”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Vincent said bad dog.”
Adrian became still.
“Vincent was there?”
Sophia nodded.
Elena’s stomach dropped.
She had forgotten.
Vincent stood near the staircase that day.
He had laughed.
Titan’s getting old and stupid.
Then he told a guard to lock the dog away.
Dante looked at Adrian.
Another fragment.
Still not proof.
But patterns were forming.
Sophia suddenly asked:
“Why does Dr. Reynolds smell like your water?”
Silence.
Adrian’s head turned.
“What?”
Elena crouched.
“Explain.”
Sophia shrugged.
“Same.”
“What same?”
“Yucky smell.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Like hospital.”
Adrian looked toward Dante.
The broken glass from the study had been collected.
So had the remaining water from Adrian’s carafe.
Toxicology had not returned yet.
Now urgency changed.
The report arrived that evening.
The same unprescribed medication detected in Adrian’s blood was present in the water.
Tiny concentration.
Enough to accumulate over time.
Adrian sat in his study.
Stared at the report.
Then called Mrs. Bellini.
The elderly housekeeper looked offended by the existence of an investigation.
“Who prepares my water?”
“Kitchen staff.”
“Who orders the bottles?”
“I do.”
“Any recent changes?”
“No.”
She hesitated.
“Except Mr. Vincent asked that your study bottles be kept separately.”
Adrian’s pulse slowed.
“When?”
“Maybe five months ago.”
“Why?”
“He said Dr. Reynolds recommended a particular mineral brand because of your blood pressure.”
There it was.
A supply chain.
Not proof of who tampered.
But access.
Dante asked:
“What now?”
Adrian looked toward Titan.
The dog’s head rested on his paws.
For months, everyone had called him aggressive.
Old.
Difficult.
Maybe Titan had been trying to warn them long before Sophia found the words.
“Nothing changes.”
Dante smiled faintly.
“You're going to pretend you're still sick.”
“Yes.”
May you like
“And Vincent?”
“He gets exactly what he’s been waiting for.”
