Chapter 6 - The Device Named Sophie
Emily wanted to smash the laptop.
Instead she stared at the authorization logs until the letters blurred.
SOPHIE-IPAD.
Her daughter’s device.
Used to approve millions in fraudulent payments.
“No,” she said. “Sophie’s iPad doesn’t have banking access.”
Daniel sat across from her at Nora’s townhouse office.
“The real one doesn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“Device names can be changed.”
Nora leaned forward.
“So whoever enrolled the second device named it after Sophie’s tablet.”
“To hide it in plain sight,” Emily said.
Daniel nodded.
“And because if anyone casually reviewed your trusted devices, the name would look familiar.”
Emily felt sick.
“Can we identify the hardware?”
“Eventually. I pulled a device fingerprint before the account was disabled.”
Nora tapped her pen.
“Who had administrator-level access to identity systems?”
“Michael’s finance-security liaison.”
“Name?”
“Eric Talbot.”
“Loyal to Michael?”
Daniel gave a humorless laugh.
“Michael hired him.”
By evening, Eric’s company phone had been disconnected.
His apartment was empty.
His LinkedIn page disappeared.
That frightened Emily.
But not as much as Sophie’s next memory.
They were eating soup at Nora’s kitchen table when Sophie suddenly said, “Vanessa used my name before.”
Emily set down her spoon.
“What do you mean?”
“She called something Sophie.”
“When?”
Sophie frowned.
“At Christmas. Dad said, ‘Don’t call it that in front of her.’”
Emily and Nora exchanged a glance.
“Was it a computer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see anything?”
“A little silver thing.”
“A phone?”
“Maybe.”
Sophie looked guilty.
“Am I in trouble?”
Emily’s heart broke.
“No.”
“Because they used my name?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t help them.”
Emily moved beside her.
“I know.”
Sophie looked toward Nora.
“Will the judge know?”
The question stunned them both.
“What judge?”
“Dad told me there will be a judge.”
Emily became still.
“When did he tell you that?”
“Yesterday.”
“He hasn’t seen you.”
Sophie shook her head.
“Before Mom came home.”
Emily felt cold all over.
“What exactly did he say?”
Sophie’s voice became small.
“He said if people asked questions, I should say Mom gets mad a lot. He said a judge might ask who I feel safest with.”
Nora’s jaw tightened.
“And what did you say?”
“I said Mom.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“Then Dad looked angry.”
Emily stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.
“He planned a custody case before Vanessa hit her.”
Nora said nothing.
“He already knew there would be a judge.”
“Yes.”
“So the assault wasn’t spontaneous.”
“Possibly not.”
Emily began pacing.
“They were creating evidence.”
“Emily.”
“Recordings of me angry. Financial transactions under my credentials. Vanessa in Sophie’s room. Michael coaching her.”
“Slow down.”
“They wanted me to look unstable.”
“Why?”
Emily turned.
“That’s what I don’t understand.”
A divorce would not give Michael her inherited shares.
Their prenuptial agreement protected the Mercer stock and mansion as separate property.
Michael had been generously compensated—salary, bonuses, investments.
He would leave the marriage wealthy.
But not powerful.
Not controlling.
Unless he could make her sign something.
The proxy.
Emily whispered, “He needed my voting rights.”
Nora nodded.
“And perhaps leverage to keep you from challenging the proxy.”
Sophie pushed her soup away.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Vanessa said you’d sign if Dad had me.”
Nobody moved.
Emily knelt beside her.
“When?”
“Before she hit me.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“She said, ‘When your mother understands she can lose you, she’ll sign anything.’”
Nora immediately began writing.
Emily felt something break inside her.
Not rage.
Something colder.
Michael had not merely chosen Vanessa over Sophie in that bedroom.
He had been using Sophie before Emily ever walked through the door.
The next morning, a forensic child psychologist interviewed Sophie without Emily present.
Two hours later, Nora emerged from the courthouse.
“The judge is maintaining the no-contact condition for Michael temporarily.”
Emily exhaled.
“But?”
“But Michael’s lawyer produced evidence of your recent behavior.”
“What behavior?”
“A security video from six months ago.”
Emily frowned.
“What video?”
Nora handed her a tablet.
The clip showed Emily in the mansion kitchen.
She was shouting.
She threw a wineglass into the sink.
It shattered.
The camera angle did not show Michael standing three feet away telling her that her dead father had considered her weak.
It did not capture what preceded it.
Only Emily.
Angry.
Loud.
Breaking glass.
“How many recordings does he have?”
“Enough to create a pattern.”
Emily stared at the screen.
Then the timestamp caught her eye.
11:48 p.m.
That night Vanessa had supposedly gone home at eight.
Emily looked closer.
In the reflection of the refrigerator door, behind Michael, a woman was standing in the hallway.
May you like
Holding a phone.
Vanessa.
