Chapter 3: Thirty-Seven Hours
The footage was timestamped.
Richard sat at the kitchen island, Sophie asleep against his shoulder, and watched the screen with the kind of stillness that comes just before something breaks.
The camera covered the kitchen and the hallway leading to it.
He rewound to yesterday morning — 7:14 a.m.
Sophie appeared in the frame in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes.
She opened the refrigerator.
Stood in front of it for a moment.
Reached for something on the lower shelf.
A hand came into frame and pushed the door shut.
Vivienne's hand.
"That's not for you."
Sophie stepped back.
"But I'm hungry."
"You had dinner last night."
"That was a long time ago."
"Go to your room."
Sophie didn't move right away.
She looked at the counter, where a bowl of fruit sat.
Vivienne followed her eyes.
"Don't even think about it."
Sophie turned and walked out of frame.
Richard's jaw tightened.
He kept watching.
At 9:40 a.m., Sophie came back.
She stood in the kitchen doorway, small and uncertain.
Vivienne was on the phone, laughing at something, a full plate of eggs in front of her.
Sophie said nothing.
She just stood there.
Vivienne looked up, covered the phone with one hand, and pointed toward the hallway.
Sophie left.
He watched the whole day.
Lunch — Vivienne and a friend, wine glasses, takeout containers spread across the table.
Sophie appeared once in the background, stopped when she saw the friend, and disappeared again without saying a word.
Dinner — Vivienne ate alone at the island.
Scrolled her phone.
Got up, rinsed her plate, and left the kitchen without setting anything aside.
The dog's bowl was filled at 8:00 p.m.
Sophie came into the kitchen at 10:47 p.m.
The house was dark.
She stood in front of the refrigerator for a long time, then turned and looked at the dog's bowl on the floor.
Richard stopped the footage.
His hand was flat on the counter.
He didn't trust himself to move it.
Sophie stirred against his shoulder.
"Daddy?"
"I'm here."
"Are you mad?"
He looked down at her.
Her gray eyes were still puffy, still searching his face for something she wasn't sure she'd find.
"Not at you," he said.
"Never at you."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "She said if I cried to you, you'd send me to boarding school.
Far away.
She said that's what happens to little girls who make trouble."
Richard set the phone face-down on the counter.
"Sophie.
Look at me."
She did.
"You are never going anywhere.
Do you understand me?
This is your home.
I am your father.
Nothing changes that."
Her lower lip trembled.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She pressed her face back into his neck and held on.
He sat there without moving, one hand on her back, while the anger settled into something harder and colder than anger.
Something that didn't shake.
Something that could wait one more hour — just long enough to get Sophie upstairs, into her bed, with the nightlight on and the door open.
Then he took out his phone again.
Not the camera app this time.
His attorney's number.
It rang twice.
"Richard.
It's almost eleven."
"I know.
I need you here first thing tomorrow.
Bring whoever handles family law."
A pause.
"How bad?"
Richard looked at the sticky note still sitting on the counter.
*She eats when she behaves.*
"Bring everyone," he said.
He ended the call.
Looked at the note one more time.
Then he heard the front door open.
Heels on marble.
The soft click of a handbag set down.
May you like
A light switched on in the hallway.
Vivienne was home.
