Chapter 2
The physician arrived within fifteen minutes.
Everything else stopped.
No interrogation.
No threats.
Mireya came first.
Dr. Elena Ward examined her carefully while I stayed beside the bed in the east sitting room.
Her breathing settled.
No severe complication.
We had acted quickly.
Margaret sat across from us with both hands wrapped around a cup she never drank.
When Elena finished, she looked at me.
“She needs rest. And the inhaler stays with her.”
My jaw tightened.
“It will.”
Mireya reached for me.
I lifted her carefully.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Tove took it.”
“I know.”
“She said I was pretending.”
“I know.”
Mireya frowned.
“I wasn’t.”
Three years old.
Already defending reality to adults.
I kissed her forehead.
“I know.”
That mattered more than anything I would say downstairs.
Before Elena left, I asked one question.
“Can someone deliberately cause an episode?”
Her expression sharpened.
“Potentially, depending on triggers.”
No details needed.
I wasn’t looking for a method.
I was looking for motive.
“Could someone know one was likely?”
“If they knew her history and exposure patterns.”
Exposure patterns.
I thought about the conservatory.
Citrus trees.
Soil.
Pollen.
Cleaning agents.
Perfumes.
Dozens of ordinary variables.
Then Margaret said:
“Cullen.”
I turned.
“She had one last month.”
I knew.
Minor.
At breakfast.
Mireya recovered quickly.
“Tove was there.”
So was Chase.
Of course.
Margaret continued.
“And afterward Tove asked Dr. Ward whether children can exaggerate symptoms for attention.”
I looked at Elena.
She nodded reluctantly.
“She did.”
There.
Not proof.
Pattern.
Tove had been building an interpretation.
Mireya performs.
Mireya exaggerates.
Mireya seeks attention.
Then tonight, when the child actually couldn’t breathe, Tove was ready with the line before anyone asked.
Stop encouraging her little performance.
Narrative prepared in advance.
Why?
I carried Mireya to bed.
Once she slept, I went downstairs.
Tove and Chase were separated.
May you like
Good.
I wanted their lies to grow independently.
