“Fuck.”
I’m seized by the urge to throw something. Anything.
Why would she lie about my father like that? Especially when I gave her an out. All she had to do was admit she needed the money for college, and it would have been over. We could have moved on. Had a cordial relationship for the remainder of her stay here. But instead, she came up with this ridiculous story?—
Why would she, though?
What would it accomplish? She had to know I’d react like this.
Unless.
No.
My father wouldn’t.
No, he’s not perfect. Far from it. But this?
Then again, why would Sofia come up with such an incredible story?
Wouldmy father tell her to leave the city, thinking she was a bad influence on me? He’s overbearing at times, too controlling when he thinks he knows best. Could he have offered Sofia money to leave?
Too antsy to stay still, I leave the kitchen and head back to my home office. Down the hall, the door to Sofia’s bedroom isshut. I’m tempted to walk closer, to find out if she’s still crying. But I don’t.
Instead, I close the office door firmly and cross the room to my desk.
My phone sits there on the black wooden desk the interior decorator insisted I buy.“Black’s the way to go,”she explained.“It’s sleek. Modern. Austere.”
In truth, it looks cold.
And I don’t really like black.
As I sink into the leather office chair, I spin Sofia’s accusations through my mind again.
Could he have accused Sofia of doing something so terrible? Had her arrested? Pressed charges for a theft that never happened and had her sent to jail?
Could he have forced her to leave?
I don’t want to believe it.
I don’t want to think of Sofia sitting there, all alone, wondering where I was.
I was so sure she was guilty.
My father said she was.
He had proof. I trusted him.
ButSofia.
I can’t stop seeing her tear-streaked face. I can’t forget the pain in her eyes.
And when she told me how scared she was. How alone. How she waited for me to come and I?—
Fuck.
What if she was innocent all along?
What if I fucked up?
