Chapter 15 - The Girl Who Counted the Yellow Suns
Sophie knew something was wrong long before anyone explained it.
The adults had stopped laughing at breakfast.
Marco was answering phone calls in corners.
Elena kept checking her laptop with tears in her eyes.
And Dante had spent two nights sitting alone in the library, staring at Lucia's photograph.
To Sophie, those were more frightening signs than any locked gate.
On Monday morning, she entered the breakfast pavilion wearing her blue school uniform and carrying her black spiral notebook.
Dante was seated at the table with a cup of coffee he hadn't touched.
“Daddy?”
He looked up.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
She studied him.
“You didn't sleep.”
Dante managed a smile.
“I slept a little.”
“That's what grown-ups say when they didn't.”
He almost laughed.
Sophie climbed onto the chair beside him.
“Is it because of Lucia?”
Dante hesitated.
Over the years, he had learned that pretending everything was fine rarely fooled Sophie.
“I'm learning some things about what happened when Lucia was sick,” he admitted.
“Bad things?”
“Yes.”
“Did somebody lie?”
Dante looked at her.
“I think so.”
Sophie opened her notebook.
The pages were filled with familiar symbols: yellow suns for promises kept, blue question marks for uncertainty, and yellow lightning bolts for people who made her feel unsafe.
She turned to a photograph of the entire household taken at her birthday celebration.
Everyone was smiling.
Dante.
Elena.
Marco.
Sal.
Rosa.
And several guests from the foundation.
Sophie pointed to a man standing behind Elena.
“Who is he?”
Dante glanced down.
“Vincent Carrera.”
“Is he your friend?”
Dante remained silent.
Sophie noticed.
“He doesn't have any suns.”
Dante looked at the photograph.
For years, he had considered Vincent a loyal adviser.
Yet Sophie had never placed his name among the people she trusted.
“Why not?” he asked.
She turned to an old page.
Beside Vincent's name sat two blue question marks.
“He always asks me whether you love me as much as Lucia.”
Dante froze.
“When did he ask that?”
“At the Christmas party. And at the hospital fundraiser. He said sometimes dads love their first children the most.”
The words struck Dante harder than a blow.
He remembered Vincent sitting beside Sophie at the foundation dinner.
He remembered thinking the man was being kind.
“What did you tell him?”
Sophie shrugged.
“I said love isn't a pizza. You don't run out because somebody else gets a slice.”
Dante closed his eyes.
Then he pulled her into his arms.
“You're absolutely right, sweetheart.”
Sophie hugged him tightly.
“Did I make him mad?”
“No.”
“He didn't smile after that.”
Dante stared at Vincent's face in the photograph.
The man had been planting cruelty inside his little girl's mind while pretending to support their family.
It took every ounce of Dante's self-control to remain calm.
“Sophie, if Vincent ever tries to speak to you again, you tell Mommy or me immediately.”
“Okay.”
“And you don't have to solve grown-up problems.”
She frowned.
“But I helped before.”
“You did. And I'm grateful every day. But your job is to be eight years old. Play with Barnaby. Go to school. Make birdhouses for Lucia.”
Sophie considered this.
Then she nodded.
“Can I still use my notebook?”
“Always.”
She smiled and returned to her breakfast.
Later that morning, Dante met Agent Bennett inside the library.
Bennett placed several files on his desk.
“We're investigating fraudulent medical contracts, interstate wire transfers, and evidence tampering,” she explained. “Your foundation appears to have been exploited, but we need full access to its records.”
“You'll have it,” Elena answered.
Bennett looked directly at Dante.
“I also need to know whether you intend to interfere with this investigation.”
Dante leaned back.
“What exactly are you asking?”
“I'm asking whether any witnesses will disappear because you decide to handle Vincent privately.”
Marco's expression hardened.
But Dante raised his hand.
“No one is disappearing.”
Bennett studied him.
“That's not the reputation you built.”
“No,” Dante admitted. “It isn't.”
Elena placed a hand on his shoulder.
Dante continued.
“I've made mistakes. Some of them terrible. But this concerns children who need medical care. I want Vincent prosecuted, and I'll give you what you need to prove what he did.”
Bennett nodded slowly.
“Then we can work together.”
She opened another folder.
Inside were bank statements connecting Northbridge Pediatric Supplies to a company registered in Uruguay.
Marco recognized the address.
It belonged to the business managing Marcus Raldi's offshore confinement.
Dante stared at the documents.
Vincent had not only profited from the foundation.
He had been receiving payments from the company holding Marcus.
“Can you locate him?” Dante asked.
“Marcus Raldi?”
“Yes.”
Bennett hesitated.
“We've been trying.”
Dante straightened.
“Why?”
She placed a photograph on his desk.
It showed a heavily guarded industrial compound beside a remote harbor.
A handwritten note beneath the image read:
PRISONER 17 — MEDICAL TRANSFER REQUESTED.
Dante recognized Marcus immediately.
He looked thinner.
Older.
Almost unrecognizable.
Bennett lowered her voice.
“Someone inside the facility sent this to our office.”
“Is he sick?” Dante asked.
“We don't know.”
“Is he alive?”
“As of three weeks ago.”
Dante looked toward the window.
Beyond the glass, Sophie was playing fetch with Barnaby.
Three years earlier, Dante had condemned Marcus to lifelong exile, believing that confinement would be enough to end his former friend's treachery.
Now someone else controlled Marcus's fate.
And if Vincent had been manipulating the same financial network for ten years, Marcus might possess answers no one else could provide.
Bennett gathered the photographs.
“We need to find him before Vincent realizes what he knows.”
Dante nodded.
For the first time, revenge was not the answer forming in his mind.
It was responsibility.
He had sent Marcus away.
Whatever crimes Marcus had committed, Dante could no longer pretend that an unlawful private punishment was justice.
He looked at Bennett.
“Bring him home to face a court.”
Bennett's eyebrows rose.
“Even if his testimony exposes your own decisions?”
Dante looked at Sophie's notebook resting beside his desk.
May you like
Then he answered without hesitation.
“Even then.”
