Chapter 7: What Sofia Said
Dr.
Vargas spent forty-five minutes with Sofia in the sitting room — the same room where everything had begun the evening before.
Dolores sat just outside the open door, close enough to hear if Sofia called for her, far enough to give the child space.
Mateo waited in the kitchen.
He did not pace.
He sat at the table with both hands flat on the surface and did not move.
When Dr.
Vargas came out, he closed the sitting room door softly behind him and sat down across from Mateo without preamble.
"She's articulate," he said.
"Unusually so for her age."
"Her mother was a teacher," Mateo said.
"She read to her every night until—" He stopped.
"She told me about the book." Dr.
Vargas set his folder on the table.
"She also told me quite a lot of other things.
I want to be clear that what I'm about to share is a summary — my formal assessment will take longer and will need to be documented properly.
But given what you've described, I don't think you should wait for the written report to understand the general picture."
"Tell me."
"Sofia has been experiencing what I would describe as systematic emotional pressure.
Not physical — she was clear about that, and I believe her.
But the pattern she describes is consistent and deliberate." He opened the folder.
"She was told repeatedly that speaking about her mother was making her father sad, and that a good daughter would not do that.
She was told that the housemaid — Dolores — was not a real member of the family and that relying on her was a habit she needed to break.
She was told that her feelings about the current situation were wrong and that she needed to correct them."
Mateo's hands pressed flat against the table.
"She was also told," Dr.
Vargas continued, his voice steady and careful, "that if she told her father any of this, he would be disappointed in her.
That he had enough to carry.
That a brave girl would handle her own problems."
The kitchen was completely silent.
"She recorded the videos," Dr.
Vargas said, "because she decided that if she couldn't tell you, she needed proof.
She said—" he glanced at his notes, "—she said she learned from a cartoon that cameras never lie.
So she set up the tablet herself and waited."
Mateo looked at the table.
"She also said something else." Dr.
Vargas paused.
"She said she was sorry she didn't finish her sentence last night.
She said she got scared when she saw Renata's face and the words went away.
She wanted me to tell you that she was going to say Renata kjlled the fish."
Mateo looked up.
"The fish in the small tank in her bedroom.
A goldfish — she said her mother gave it to her.
It d*ed approximately three weeks ago.
Sofia believes Renata did it deliberately.
She said she came home from school and the tank was empty and Renata told her the fish had simply d*ed the way all things d*e, and that it was a good lesson."
Something crossed Mateo's face that was not quite grief and not quite rage but occupied the space where they meet.
"The fish's name," Dr.
Vargas said quietly, "was Elena."
Mateo stood up from the table.
He walked to the kitchen window and stood there with his back to the room, one hand braced against the frame, looking out at the driveway where Renata's car was still parked, still occupied, still running whatever calculation she had been running since last night.
"What does she need?" he asked.
His voice was steady.
"Sofia.
What does she need right now?"
"Consistency.
Safety.
The clear and repeated message that she did nothing wrong and that the adults in her life are handling it." Dr.
Vargas closed the folder.
"She needs to know she can talk about her mother.
She needs to know the book is hers.
And she needs to not see that woman in this house again — not today, and I would strongly advise not for some time."
Mateo turned around.
"That I can do."
He walked back to the table, picked up his phone, and called his attorney.
When the line connected he said four words: "We're moving forward today."
Then he walked down the hall to the sitting room, knocked gently, and opened the door.
Sofia was on the sofa with her picture book open in her lap, the pages turned to somewhere in the middle.
She looked up when he came in.
"Dr.
Vargas said you wanted to tell me something," he said, sitting beside her.
She nodded.
"I'm sorry I didn't finish."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for." He put his arm around her.
"Not one thing."
She leaned into him.
After a moment she said, very quietly, "Daddy.
Can I show you something in my room?"
"Of course."
"I kept some of Mama's things," she said.
"Under my bed.
In a box.
Renata didn't know about it." She paused.
"I was saving them.
In case."
He pulled her closer.
"In case of what, baby?"
Sofia thought about it.
"In case I needed to remember she was real."
Outside, a car door finally opened.
Renata's heels on the front path.
The sound of a key in the lock.
Mateo did not move from the sofa.
But he took out his phone and sent one more message — this time not to his attorney.
May you like
This time to the front door camera system.
*Start recording.*
