Chapter 2
Sofia remembered the first fragment that night.
Not a face.
A sound.
Metal scraping against concrete.
She called Raffaele from upstairs.
“Dad.”
He answered immediately.
“What?”
“I remember her shoes.”
Raffaele went still.
Sofia closed her eyes.
Beatrice had worn silver heels.
One had broken.
Sofia remembered seeing it lying beneath a bronze worktable.
Then:
Beatrice’s hand gripping her wrist.
Someone shouting.
A sweet chemical smell.
Then nothing.
Raffaele asked no leading questions.
He had already called Dr. Ellen Mayer, the neurologist who treated Sofia after the accident.
The next morning, with Sofia’s permission, the doctor reviewed the old records.
Sofia had suffered a concussion.
That explained gaps.
But something else appeared in the toxicology report.
A sedating medication.
Low concentration.
Raffaele stared at the page.
“She wasn’t prescribed this.”
Dr. Mayer shook her head.
“No.”
“Why wasn't I told?”
“You were.”
Raffaele looked up.
The doctor pulled an archived discharge summary.
A family representative had explained that Sofia had taken medication for anxiety before the fundraiser.
Raffaele read the name attached to the statement.
Grace Hale.
He remembered Grace sitting beside him at the hospital.
Calm.
Supportive.
Helping doctors understand what happened while Raffaele was half-mad with fear.
“She lied.”
Dr. Mayer answered carefully.
“We know the medication history she provided was inconsistent with Sofia’s actual prescriptions.”
Raffaele took the document.
Back at the foundry, he asked Sofia:
“Did Grace ever give you a drink that night?”
Sofia closed her eyes.
A flash.
Grace smiling.
A champagne flute.
“You look pale, sweetheart.”
Then another memory.
Beatrice appearing behind Grace.
Watching the glass.
Sofia opened her eyes.
“I think Beatrice knocked it out of my hand.”
Raffaele leaned forward.
“Why?”
May you like
Sofia whispered:
“I think she knew what was in it.”
