She began crying.
Not loudly.
Guiltily.
“I saw once.”
His stomach dropped.
“When?”
“January.”
Four months earlier.
“What did you see?”
“Mrs. Mercer put Sophie inside.”
Claire’s attorney immediately interrupted.
“We should not conduct witness interviews in the kitchen.”
Ethan’s lawyer, Rebecca Sloan, nodded.
“He’s right.”
Ethan ignored both.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Rosa looked ashamed.
“I tried.”
He froze.
“When?”
“The next morning.”
Ethan remembered.
He had been leaving for Chicago.
Rosa followed him toward the driveway.
“Mr. Mercer, can I speak with you?”
Claire appeared behind them.
“Your car is waiting.”
Ethan told Rosa they would talk later.
He never did.
“What happened?”
Rosa wiped her eyes.
“Mrs. Mercer told me Sophie had been hiding there during a game.”
Claire snapped:
“That happened once.”
Rosa looked at her.
“No.”
Everyone went quiet.
Claire’s attorney put one hand on her arm.
She ignored it.
Rosa continued.
“You told me not to interfere with discipline.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“You undermine me constantly.”
“I take care of Sophie.”
“Exactly.”
Rosa looked toward Ethan.
“She said you wanted her to be stricter.”
Ethan felt cold.
“I never said that.”
Claire looked away.
Rosa continued.
“She showed me messages.”
“What messages?”
“From you.”
Ethan’s lawyer sat straighter.
“What did they say?”
Rosa looked uncomfortable.
“That Sophie had become manipulative since Mr. Mercer remarried.”
Ethan’s chest tightened.
“I never wrote that.”
Another message said:
Claire needs authority. Stop rescuing Sophie from consequences.
“I never wrote that either.”
Rosa nodded.
“I know now.”
Rebecca asked:
“Do you still have the messages?”
“Screenshots.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Ethan looked at his wife.
“Did you send them?”
Her attorney whispered:
“Do not answer.”
Claire obeyed.
That answer was enough emotionally.
Not legally.
Ethan understood the difference.
Rebecca touched his arm.
“Stop.”
He did.
Not because he wanted to.
Because Sophie was upstairs.
The rest could wait.
Claire stayed at a hotel voluntarily that night after attorneys negotiated temporary arrangements.
No restraining order.
No police.
No dramatic escort.
Ethan did not want spectacle.
He wanted space.
Sophie slept in his bed.
At 2:14 a.m., Ethan woke and found her staring at the ceiling.
“Hey.”
She turned.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Nightmare?”
“No.”
He waited.
Then Sophie whispered:
“Is Claire mad?”
“Probably.”
“At me?”
Ethan stared.
“I don’t know.”
“You always say don’t say I don’t know.”
“I say that when I know.”
She thought.
“Okay.”
Ethan shifted closer.
“Whatever she feels is not your job.”
Sophie stared.