Chương 6
Sophia sat on the couch in the library wrapped in a blanket.
A security guard brought her hot chocolate.
She thanked him politely.
That small kindness almost made Sylvester more upset.
She was still trying to be well behaved in a moment when she should have only been scared.
He sat beside her.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
Then she shook her head.
It was the first honest answer she had given all night.
"I don't like when people whisper."
He looked toward the hallway.
Staff members immediately looked away.
"They're scared too."
"Are they scared of the man?"
He paused.
"Yes."
"Are you?"
The question surprised him.
He considered giving her the answer she wanted.
But he had spent too much time watching adults hide things from children.
"Yes."
Sophia looked at him.
"You are?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He looked down at his hands.
Because fear was not always about what someone could do.
Sometimes it was about what they had already done.
"Because I don't know who this person is yet."
She thought about that.
"Can you find out?"
He looked at her.
The question carried more weight than she understood.
Because finding out meant opening doors he might not want opened.
It meant looking at his family.
His business.
His own choices.
It meant accepting that protecting someone did not always mean standing in front of danger.
Sometimes it meant admitting danger had been there because you were not looking.
"I can try."
She nodded.
Then she leaned against him.
For a few minutes, nobody spoke.
Outside, the snow continued covering the footprints in the courtyard.
By morning, they would be gone.
But Sylvester knew something had changed.
Footprints disappeared.
Evidence did not always disappear with them.
At 2:13 in the morning, his phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
No attachment this time.
Only six words.
"Ask Helena what she did first."
"Ask Helena what she did first."
The message remained on the screen longer than it should have.
Sylvester read it once.
Then again.
Not because the words were unclear.
Because they were too clear.
The person sending them did not want him to discover a random piece of information.
They wanted him to look at Helena.
They wanted him to doubt the person standing closest to him.
He locked the phone without responding.
Across the library, Sophia was still leaning against his shoulder, her eyes half closed from exhaustion.
He did not want to move.
Not yet.
For the first time in years, being still felt more important than taking action.
But the message changed something.
It created a new question.
Not who was watching them.
Who had decided Helena was the weak point.
At 2:30 in the morning, two police officers arrived at the mansion.
They were professional, calm, and less impressed by the size of the house than the staff expected them to be.
The older officer, Daniel Mercer, walked through the courtyard first.
He looked at the damaged bench.
Then the footprints.
Then the windows.
He did not react dramatically.
He simply observed.
Sylvester noticed that.
People who were good at their jobs usually did not need to prove they were good.
"Mr. Stallone," Mercer said, "walk me through what happened tonight."
Sylvester started from the beginning.
He did not leave out Helena grabbing Sophia.
He did not leave out the argument.
He did not leave out the custody document.
He did not protect anyone from uncomfortable details.
That included himself.
When he finished, Mercer looked toward Helena.
"Mrs. Voss, is there anything you want to add?"
Helena sat across from them with her hands folded.
The same hands that had controlled conversations for decades now looked uncertain.
"I should have reported the first incident."
Mercer waited.
"What first incident?"
"The photographs."
The officer glanced at his notes.
"You received photographs before tonight?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"About three weeks ago."
"From who?"
"A private account."
"Did you save the messages?"
"Yes."
"Did you delete anything?"
"No."
Mercer looked at Sylvester.
Then back at Helena.
"Why did you not contact law enforcement?"
Helena took a breath.
"Because I thought I could handle it."
The officer wrote something down.
"People often say that after situations get worse."
"I know."
"Why didn't you tell Mr. Stallone?"
The room became quiet.
Helena looked at Sylvester.
Not for permission.
Not for help.
For a moment, she looked like someone deciding whether honesty would destroy whatever was left.
"Because I believed he would react before thinking."
Sylvester looked away.
The sentence bothered him because part of him knew where it came from.
Mercer noticed the reaction.
"Is that accurate?"
Sylvester answered carefully.
"Sometimes."
Nobody expected him to admit it.
Especially not Helena.
The officer continued.
"Did you hire a private investigator?"
"Yes."
"Name?"
Helena gave it.
"Do you know where he is now?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he stopped contacting me."
"When?"
"Two weeks ago."
Sylvester looked at her.
That was new.
"You never told me that."
"I know."
Mercer closed his notebook.
"Mrs. Voss, did the investigator tell you anything before he stopped?"
Helena hesitated.
Again.
But this time Sylvester understood something.
The hesitation was not always because she was hiding guilt.
Sometimes it was because she was afraid.
"He told me he found a connection."
"Connection to what?"
She looked at Sophia sleeping nearby.
Then at Sylvester.
"To your past."
The room changed.
Not dramatically.
Not with shouting.
Just enough.
Sylvester felt every person in the room waiting for his reaction.
He hated that.
Because it meant everyone believed there was something he might not know about himself.
"What does that mean?"
Helena shook her head.
"I don't know."
"That's impossible."
"No."
Her voice sharpened.
"I mean I don't know what he found."
Mercer looked between them.
"What exactly did the investigator say?"
Helena swallowed.
"He said the person watching Sophia wasn't interested in her."
"Then who?"
"He said they were using her to get close to you."
Nobody spoke.
May you like
The officer wrote the sentence down.
Sylvester stared at the floor.
