Chapter 3: What Alina Knew
I didn't open the letter in front of Veronica.
I carried Sofia to her bedroom, sat on the edge of her small bed, and held her until her breathing slowed.
She fell asleep with her fist curled against my collar.
I stayed there for a long time, listening to the sound of the house.
Veronica didn't come upstairs.
When I was certain Sofia was deeply asleep, I laid her down, pulled the blanket to her chin, and went to the study.
I locked the door.
I set the box on the desk and turned on the lamp.
The letter with my name on the back was the oldest.
The postmark was from twenty-two months ago — four months after Alina had left.
I opened it.
*Daniel,*
*I know you won't believe this.
I know how it looks.
But I need you to know that I didn't leave Sofia.
I left because Veronica told me that if I didn't, she would make sure I never saw Sofia again.
She said she had evidence.
She said she had people.
I didn't know what that meant then.
I do now.*
*She was your assistant before she was your wife.
Did you know she kept copies of everything?
Every message.
Every file.
Every conversation you had in that office that you thought was private.*
*I'm not writing this to hurt you.
I'm writing this because Sofia deserves to know her mother didn't abandon her.
Please don't let Veronica raise our daughter.
Please.*
*— Alina*
I read it twice.
Then I set it down and looked at the wall.
Veronica had been my executive assistant for three years before we married.
I had trusted her with everything — my schedule, my contracts, my clients, my home.
After Alina left, she had been the one who helped me manage Sofia's care, the household, the grief.
She had been calm and capable and present in a way that I had mistaken for love.
I picked up the next letter.
This one was addressed to Sofia.
*My sweet girl.
Mama thinks about you every single day.
I hope you are eating your breakfast.
I hope you are being brave.
I have a drawing I made for you — a rabbit in a garden, because you always loved the rabbits at Grandma's house.
I'll send it next time.
I love you more than all the stars.*
I put it down before I finished it.
I sat in that chair for a long time without moving.
Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Slow, deliberate.
They stopped outside the study door.
"Daniel." Veronica's voice was quiet through the wood.
"Whatever she wrote — she wrote it to manipulate you.
That's what she does.
That's what she's always done."
I didn't answer.
"I've given you fourteen months," she said.
"I've given Sofia a stable home.
I've given you everything you needed.
Don't throw that away over a woman who walked out on her own child."
I looked at the letter in my hand.
The rabbit in the garden.
The stars.
"Go to bed, Veronica," I said.
A long silence.
"You're going to regret opening that box," she said.
May you like
Her footsteps moved away down the hall.
I opened the next envelope.
