Too smooth.
“She can barely move,” I said.
Rebecca’s expression hardened instantly.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Undermining me.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because I suddenly realized she truly believed herself.
Rebecca came downstairs slowly.
Calmly.
Too calmly.
“Sophie,” she said firmly, “go wash your face.”
My daughter didn’t move.
Rebecca’s jaw tightened.
“I said go.”
Sophie clutched my arm harder.
That tiny movement changed everything.
Rebecca saw it too.
And for the first time since I’d walked into the house—
she looked nervous.
I stepped between them.
“We’re taking her to the hospital.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Sharp.
Automatic.
Too fast.
My chest went cold.
“What do you mean no?”
“She doesn’t need a hospital.”
“She has bruises shaped like fingerprints on her back.”
Rebecca’s face lost color.
Just slightly.
But I saw it.
“That’s ridiculous,” she whispered.
“Is it?”
Silence.
Then Sophie spoke in a tiny voice behind me.
“Mom said if doctors asked questions, I should say I fell.”
Rebecca snapped toward her violently.
“SOPHIE.”
My daughter flinched so hard she nearly fell backward.
That did it.
Completely.
Every instinct inside me roared awake at once.
I picked up my daughter immediately.
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Daniel, stop being insane.”
“Move.”
“You are NOT taking her anywhere.”
The rage in her voice finally cracked through the mask.
And suddenly I saw it.
Not the woman I married.
Someone else.
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