Chapter 7 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO REMEMBERED EVERYTHING
Sophia began rehabilitation the following week.
Hannah visited only when Sophia asked and when the medical team agreed.
I offered Hannah a permanent position at the mansion.
She refused.
"I don't want to become another employee whose life depends on pleasing you."
I stared.
She continued.
"I want to finish my education."
I nodded.
"Then you should."
She looked surprised.
"You're not going to argue?"
"No."
Sophia adored her.
During therapy, Hannah encouraged her without making promises about what her body would eventually do.
Some days Sophia managed several supported steps.
Other days she was exhausted after standing.
Sometimes she cried.
Sometimes she laughed.
Hannah stayed patient.
One afternoon, Sophia asked to speak to me alone.
I sat beside her wheelchair.
"What is it, princess?"
She looked down.
"Daddy, I remember the accident."
My heart tightened.
"You don't have to talk about it."
"I want to."
I waited.
Sophia touched her silver whistle.
"Mommy was scared."
I swallowed.
"Why?"
"She kept looking in the mirror."
My chest tightened.
"Did she say anything?"
Sophia nodded.
"She said, 'Don't let him see the envelope.'"
I went still.
"What envelope?"
Sophia looked toward the window.
"The yellow one."
I remembered Isabella carrying a yellow envelope the week before she died.
I had asked what it contained.
She told me it was paperwork for the foundation.
Sophia continued.
"Mommy put it under my seat."
My breath caught.
"Under your car seat?"
She nodded.
"Then the car went upside down."
I felt cold.
"What happened to the envelope?"
Sophia whispered:
"The man took it."
I stared.
"What man?"
She looked at me.
May you like
Then said the name I had feared.
"Uncle Dominic."
