“Can we invite Ariadne?”
“Anyone you want, sweetheart.”
She squealed and immediately put a hand over her mouth. Alistair chuckled as he called Alice and invited her too.
He finished the call and turned to Gabriela, “All set.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we’d better wake your mother. She has therapy in an hour.”
Before he rose, Gabriela put her small hand over his. Her pretty face was serious when she asked, “Can I tell you a secret?”
“I’m all ears,” he smiled.
“But you can’t tell Mama. Promise?”
“Fairy.” Alistair grimaced and covered her hand with his other one. “I can’t keep secrets from Sophia. And you shouldn’t either. But I will promise you this,” he put two fingers over his heart, “if it’s something Sophia doesn’t need to know, then we can keep it between us. Okay?” He’d learned the hard way that some secrets did more damage than good, but he did want Gabriela to trust him.
Gabriela bent her chin to her chest, avoiding his stare while she thought about Alistair’s counterproposal.
“You can trust me. But Sophia is your mother. She loves you and she’s your best friend-”
“I know. That is why you can’t tell her. It’s going to make Mama sad.”
What? “Hmm. Very well. Tell me your secret.”
She stared at him with her beautiful blue eyes and whispered, “Sometimes... I miss my Daddy. I don’t cry anymore, but I still miss him.”
Alistair swallowed with difficulty. His hand gently squeezed her little one, giving comfort.
“Alistair, if you marry Mama, would you be my father?”
“If you wish,” the words rasped from his throat as a lump formed in it.
“Then can I call you Daddy?”
Daddy! Even now, Alistair could hear Nathalie calling him. The memory was raw and the pain, fresh. It was too much for him to bear stoically. He looked down at their hands, so she wouldn’t see the tears that gathered in his eyes. His chest hurt when he breathed in deep and his voice was loaded with emotion when he said, “I’d be honored to be your father, Gabriela.” He could hardly speak without revealing his strong emotions. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
9.21 a.m.
Gabriela’s kiss awoke a still groggy Sophia. Despite everything that had happened yesterday, she was feeling refreshed. When she stretched out lazily and opened her eyes, Gabriela sprinkled kisses on her cheek.
“Wake up, Mama,” she said impatiently, so excited she was practically bouncing on the bed. “We are going to Craigdale.”
That made Sophia blink and fully wake up. She rubbed her eyes and pushed up, seeing Alistair standing by the edge of the bed, “Hey, good morning. We’re going to Craigdale? Today?”
“Aye,” he sat by her side. “After your therapy session. I’ve spoken with Dr. Colton-”
“You’ve spoken with Dr. Colton,” she repeated dryly, tilting her head to study his face. Sophia didn’t know if she should be irritated with the way he had decided everything without consulting her. She wasn’t used to having someone else make the decision. “When?”
“He called about ten minutes ago. He wanted to know how you spent the night.” He tucked back a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Tavish Uilleam is coming with us, you don’t need to worry.”
Sophia smiled, amused. He orders everyone around.
“And Alistair let me invite Ariadne, Alice, Michael and Leonard,” Gabriela complemented. “Everyone, Mama! Can I choose your clothes?”
Sophia’s smile couldn’t be contained anymore. Gabriela’s happiness was her priority in life and if Alistair made her daughter happy, she would put up with some meddling in her life. Right now, it was the lesser of her problems.
Kensington. Dr. Guilhermina Kent’s Office.
10.14 a.m.
Guilhermina Kent opened the door to her office and smiled, welcoming Sophia in with a kiss on each cheek. She was Columbian and looked thirty, despite being forty-five years old. She had olive skin, very short brownish hair and brown expressive eyes. She didn’t dress conservatively; she didn’t talk pompously; she used just a hint of makeup. She encouraged her patients to call her by her nickname, Mina, and she talked - really talked - during the sessions. And smiled a lot. No stern looks or frowns from Dr. Kent.
Edward was the one who had referred her. Based solely on her appearance and demeanor, Sophia would never have guessed she was a psychiatrist, who graduated from Stanford University, with a doctorate in psychoanalysis from the University of Essex.
“How are you, Sophia?”
“I’ve been better,” Sophia sat in the armchair instead of lying on the couch. She preferred to look at Dr. Kent’s face and the doctor was very comfortable with this arrangement.
Dr. Kent’s trained gaze swept over Sophia’s face. “You look better than yesterday. Much better.”
“I’m trying to convince myself of that as well,” Sophia said wryly.
With her lips twisting ruefully, Dr. Kent sat in her armchair, facing Sophia and crossed her legs.
“You know, Sophia, you are human. You don’t have to punish yourself because you can’t always live up to the high standards you set for yourself.”
High standards? You have no idea. Sophia grimaced, “People expect me to behave according to the high expectations I’ve always set. I have always had a perfect and model behavior. I- Sophia, the lawyer, the teacher, the heiress, even the widow and the mother... We are myths, hiding our dark secrets under fairy tales.”
“We are here to deconstruct these myths you have created for yourself and shed some light on those supposedly dark secrets of yours.”
“People see what they want to see and they will react to me based on who they want me to be.”
Dr. Kent smiled then and put her elbows on her knees. “And who do you want to be, Sophia?” she asked quietly, resting her chin on her enlaced fingers.
I don’t know. Sophia didn’t answer.
“Secrets,” Dr. Kent mused, “they weigh on us. How much are you carrying on your shoulders?”
“A lot,” Sophia breathed.
“You know you need to unburden yourself of your secrets, don’t you?”
“Once secrets are told... their power to wound becomes greater.”
“What hurts more, Sophia? The one time confession of a sin or an unconfessed sin that festers and rots?”
Sophia exhaled a gush of air. “Mina, if one of your patients sat right here in this armchair and told you they had committed a crime - a murder - what would you do? Would you report them to the police?”
Dr. Kent reclined slowly, resting her back on the chair and scanning Sophia’s face. She was very good at reading Sophia’s emotions, because she held nothing back in therapy. But, for the first time, Dr. Kent was puzzled and intrigued by how blank Sophia’s face was, even though her question gave much away. “Sophia, it’s not my position to judge or report a patient. And, without taking circumstances into account, I cannot examine what has led to this supposed act. Tell me, when you take on a new case, do you condemn the person at first sight?”
“Touché,” Sophia smiled. But her smile was gone as quickly as it had come. Sophia took a big envelope from her Hermès bag and handed it to Dr. Kent. “I’ve killed eleven of the men in this photo.”
Dr. Kent had to make an effort to stop her mouth from dropping open. She calmly surveyed the photo, lifted her brown eyes, pinning Sophia with her stare. “You killed these men. Very well. What kind of fantasy is this?”
Sophia looked away from the doctor and broke down sobbing. The words spilled from her mouth as she vomited the whole story. At least, the parts of it she remembered.