Chapter 3
"Who taught my niece to describe herself as a burden?"
Luca's question hung over the banquet table.
Sophie stared at the cream-colored paper in his hands.
Then she whispered, "I didn't mean it like that."
Luca immediately lowered himself beside her again.
"Sweetheart, did you write this?"
She nodded.
Vanessa exhaled sharply.
"There. You see? I didn't invent her feelings."
But Sophie wasn't finished.
"Vanessa told me what to write."
The room fell silent.
Luca held the paper where she could see it.
"Did you understand everything you were writing?"
"Some of it."
"Which part didn't you understand?"
Sophie pointed to the first sentence.
"That word."
"Burden?"
She nodded.
"I thought it meant when somebody has too much to do."
Vanessa pressed her lips together.
"That's essentially what it means."
"No," Luca said quietly. "Not when you're talking about a child."
He looked at Sophie.
"Did Vanessa tell you I had too much to do?"
"She said you were tired."
"Everybody gets tired, sweetheart."
"And that you worried about me all the time."
"Because I love you."
Sophie blinked.
Vanessa stepped closer.
"Luca, I was trying to help her express complicated emotions."
Madame Fournier unfolded the letter.
"Then perhaps you can explain the second paragraph."
She handed it to me.
"Emily, would you read it aloud?"
My fingers trembled as I accepted the paper.
The words were written in English, but the tone was unmistakably adult.
"I believe a period of separation will allow my guardian to establish his marriage without feeling responsible for my emotional difficulties."
I stopped.
Sophie looked utterly lost.
Luca said, "Keep reading."
I swallowed.
"I respectfully request that my wishes be honored without further discussion."
A guest near the windows whispered, "Good Lord."
I lowered the page.
"Sophie, did you know what that meant?"
She shook her head.
"Vanessa said it sounded grown-up."
"Did she ask you to copy it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Sophie rubbed her thumb against the silver bracelet.
"Because she said Uncle Luca might say no if he thought I was scared."
Vanessa's voice sharpened.
"Children need encouragement to try new things."
Madame Fournier turned toward her.
"Encouragement is not the same as writing their feelings for them."
"I wasn't forcing Sophie."
"Then why did she need to conceal her fear?"
Vanessa had no immediate answer.
I looked at the paper again.
Something about the last sentence troubled me.
"May I ask Sophie something?"
Luca nodded.
I crouched beside her chair.
"Do you remember practicing a French sentence with Vanessa last week?"
Sophie looked surprised.
"The mountain sentence?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
"She said I should learn it in case Madame Fournier asked questions."
"What was the sentence?"
The girl sat a little straighter.
"Je veux partir."
I felt my chest tighten.
"What did Vanessa say that meant?"
Sophie smiled uncertainly.
"That I wanted to see the mountains."
Madame Fournier slowly removed her glasses.
Luca looked between us.
"Emily?"
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Sir, it means 'I want to leave.'"
Sophie stopped smiling.
"Oh."
That single word hurt worse than any accusation Vanessa had made all evening.
Luca rested his forehead briefly against Sophie's.
"You don't have to learn a language to convince somebody you're happy."
Then he stood.
"Madame Fournier, you heard Sophie say that phrase?"
"During our brief conversation before dinner."
"And you believed she wanted to leave?"
"At first, yes."
The French woman looked at Sophie.
"But when I asked what she enjoyed about the school, she spoke about its gardens and whether children were allowed to write letters home."
Sophie looked up.
"I wanted to know if I could write to Uncle Luca every day."
Madame Fournier nodded sadly.
"That was when I became concerned."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"So a child asking about letters is suspicious?"
"No. A child being told to give a prepared answer while asking whether she may contact her family is something I take seriously."
Luca placed the copied statement beside the forged application.
"Was this letter required?"
"No. Not in this form."
"Then why was it included?"
"Mrs. Bellini told me Sophie had independently asked for residential placement."
Sophie shook her head.
"I never asked to live there."
Vanessa looked wounded.
"You told me you wanted to be brave."
"I did."
"You said you wanted to make your uncle proud."
Sophie nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Vanessa spread her hands.
"Then I misunderstood."
For a moment, she sounded genuinely relieved to find a softer explanation.
But Luca shook his head.
"You didn't misunderstand her. You gave her the words you wanted to hear."
Vanessa's eyes filled again.
"You're making me sound monstrous."
"I'm asking you to take responsibility."
Her expression hardened.
"You're not being fair."
Luca looked at the red marks still visible on my forearm.
"Neither were you when you made Emily kneel in front of forty people."
Vanessa looked away.
I hadn't expected him to remember that while his niece was suffering.
He turned toward me.
"Emily, you don't have to stand there."
I returned to the chair he had offered.
It was an ordinary upholstered dining chair, identical to the others.
Yet sitting in it while Vanessa remained standing felt strangely important.
Madame Fournier arranged the papers in the folder.
"Mr. Moretti, I need you to understand that enrollment has not been approved. I would not admit a child under these circumstances."
Luca nodded.
"Thank you."
"But there is another matter."
Vanessa looked at her sharply.
"Please."
The French woman studied her for a moment.
"I believe he needs to know."
She slid a printed schedule across the table.
Luca glanced down.
"What am I looking at?"
"The requested arrival date."
He frowned.
"The wedding isn't until next month."
"I know."
"Vanessa told us Sophie would leave afterward."
Madame Fournier tapped the page.
"That's not what was submitted."
Sophie leaned toward her uncle.
"When am I supposed to go?"
Luca read the date again.
Then he looked up at Vanessa.
His voice was frighteningly quiet.
"This Friday?"
Vanessa said nothing.
"You arranged for my niece to leave Chicago in four days?"
Madame Fournier turned another page.
May you like
And what she showed him next was worse.
"Mr. Moretti, someone has already purchased her plane ticket."
