I step into the kitchen slowly so I don't startle her further.
Marta notices me and her expression shifts to concern when she sees the blood on my shirt.
I shake my head slightly to tell her not to say anything.
"Is she sick?" I ask.
Angelica tenses.
She pulls Sofia closer and meets my gaze with defiance. "She has a cough. Nothing serious."
"Has she seen a doctor?"
"Not yet. We only just got here, remember? Besides, it's the middle of the night."
Her tone is sharp and I don't care for the look on her face, but I ignore it and look at Marta.
"Call Silvio in the morning. Have him come check on her."
Marta nods. "Of course."
I turn my attention back to Sofia.
She's small and fragile-looking in a way that makes me want to protect her.
She has my eyes—the same dark brown that I see in the mirror every morning, the same shape.
There's no question that she is mine.
"What's your name?" I ask.
She doesn't answer.
She buries her face against Angelica's side and refuses to look at me.
"You know her name," Angelica says in a cold tone. "And she's tired and scared. Leave her alone."
I don't leave.
I walk to the table and crouch down so I'm at eye level with the girl.
She peeks at me from behind her mother's arm.
I keep my expression neutral and my voice calm.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I say. "You're safe here."
She doesn't respond, but she doesn't hide either.
She watches me with cautious curiosity.
"Do you like the Christmas tree?" I ask.
She nods slowly. "It's pretty," she whispers.
"My housekeeper put it up," I say. "I don't usually decorate for Christmas. But she insisted."
"Why not?" Sofia asks. Her voice is small and hesitant.
